Act 3, Scene III

SCENE III. A room in FORD'S house.

Enter MISTRESS FORD and MISTRESS PAGE
MISTRESS FORD
What, John! What, Robert!

MISTRESS PAGE
Quickly, quickly! is the buck-basket--

MISTRESS FORD
I warrant. What, Robin, I say!

Enter Servants with a basket

MISTRESS PAGE
Come, come, come.

MISTRESS FORD
Here, set it down.

MISTRESS PAGE
Give your men the charge; we must be brief.

MISTRESS FORD
Marry, as I told you before, John and Robert, be
ready here hard by in the brew-house: and when I
suddenly call you, come forth, and without any pause
or staggering take this basket on your shoulders:
that done, trudge with it in all haste, and carry
it among the whitsters in Datchet-mead, and there
empty it in the muddy ditch close by the Thames side.

MISTRESS PAGE
You will do it?

MISTRESS FORD
I ha' told them over and over; they lack no
direction. Be gone, and come when you are called.

Exeunt Servants

MISTRESS PAGE
Here comes little Robin.

Enter ROBIN

MISTRESS FORD
How now, my eyas-musket! what news with you?

ROBIN
My master, Sir John, is come in at your back-door,
Mistress Ford, and requests your company.

MISTRESS PAGE
You little Jack-a-Lent, have you been true to us?

ROBIN
Ay, I'll be sworn. My master knows not of your
being here and hath threatened to put me into
everlasting liberty if I tell you of it; for he
swears he'll turn me away.

MISTRESS PAGE
Thou'rt a good boy: this secrecy of thine shall be
a tailor to thee and shall make thee a new doublet
and hose. I'll go hide me.

MISTRESS FORD
Do so. Go tell thy master I am alone.

Exit ROBIN

Mistress Page, remember you your cue.

MISTRESS PAGE
I warrant thee; if I do not act it, hiss me.

Exit

MISTRESS FORD
Go to, then: we'll use this unwholesome humidity,
this gross watery pumpion; we'll teach him to know
turtles from jays.

Enter FALSTAFF

FALSTAFF
Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? Why, now let
me die, for I have lived long enough: this is the
period of my ambition: O this blessed hour!

MISTRESS FORD
O sweet Sir John!

FALSTAFF
Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate,
Mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish: I would
thy husband were dead: I'll speak it before the
best lord; I would make thee my lady.

MISTRESS FORD
I your lady, Sir John! alas, I should be a pitiful lady!

FALSTAFF
Let the court of France show me such another. I see
how thine eye would emulate the diamond: thou hast
the right arched beauty of the brow that