[Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE]
- Sir Hugh Evans. I pray you now, good master Slender's serving-man,
and friend Simple by your name, which way have you
looked for Master Caius, that calls himself doctor of physic?
- Simple. Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park-ward, every
way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town
- Sir Hugh Evans. I most fehemently desire you you will also look that
- Sir Hugh Evans. 'Pless my soul, how full of chollors I am, and
trempling of mind! I shall be glad if he have
deceived me. How melancholies I am! I will knog
his urinals about his knave's costard when I have
good opportunities for the ork. 'Pless my soul!
To shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sings madrigals;
There will we make our peds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies.
Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry.
Melodious birds sing madrigals—
When as I sat in Pabylon—
And a thousand vagram posies.
To shallow &c.
- Simple. Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh.
- Sir Hugh Evans. He's welcome.
To shallow rivers, to whose falls-
Heaven prosper the right! What weapons is he?
- Simple. No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master
Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frogmore, over
the stile, this way.
- Sir Hugh Evans. Pray you, give me my gown; or else keep it in your arms.
[Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER]
- Robert Shallow. How now, master Parson! Good morrow, good Sir Hugh.
Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student
from his book, and it is wonderful.
- Slender. [Aside] Ah, sweet Anne Page!
- Page. 'Save you, good Sir Hugh!
- Sir Hugh Evans. 'Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you!
- Robert Shallow. What, the sword and the word! do you study them
both, master parson?
- Page. And youthful still! in your doublet and hose this
raw rheumatic day!
- Sir Hugh Evans. There is reasons and causes for it.
- Page. We are come to you to do a good office, master parson.
- Sir Hugh Evans. Fery well: what is it?
- Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike
having received wrong by some person, is at most
odds with his own gravity and patience that ever you
- Robert Shallow. I have lived fourscore years and upward; I never
heard a man of his place, gravity and learning, so
wide of his own respect.
- Sir Hugh Evans. What is he?
- Page. I think you know him; Master Doctor Caius, the
renowned French physician.
- Sir Hugh Evans. Got's will, and his passion of my heart! I had as
lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge.
- Sir Hugh Evans. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen,
—and he is a knave besides; a cowardly knave as you
would desires to be acquainted withal.
- Page. I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him.
- Robert Shallow. [Aside] O sweet Anne Page!
- Robert Shallow. It appears so by his weapons. Keep them asunder:
here comes Doctor Caius.
[Enter Host, DOCTOR CAIUS, and RUGBY]
- Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon.
- Robert Shallow. So do you, good master doctor.
- Host. Disarm them, and let them question: let them keep
their limbs whole and hack our English.
- Doctor Caius. I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your ear.
Vherefore vill you not meet-a me?
- Sir Hugh Evans. [Aside to DOCTOR CAIUS] Pray you, use your patience:
in good time.
- Doctor Caius. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape.
- Sir Hugh Evans. [Aside to DOCTOR CAIUS] Pray you let us not be
laughing-stocks to other men's humours; I desire you
in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends.
I will knog your urinals about your knave's cockscomb
for missing your meetings and appointments.
- Doctor Caius. Diable! Jack Rugby,—mine host de Jarteer,—have I
not stay for him to kill him? have I not, at de place
I did appoint?
- Sir Hugh Evans. As I am a Christians soul now, look you, this is the
place appointed: I'll be judgement by mine host of
- Host. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welsh,
soul-curer and body-curer!
- Doctor Caius. Ay, dat is very good; excellent.
- Host. Peace, I say! hear mine host of the Garter. Am I
politic? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? Shall I
lose my doctor? no; he gives me the potions and the
motions. Shall I lose my parson, my priest, my Sir
Hugh? no; he gives me the proverbs and the
no-verbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so. Give me
thy hand, celestial; so. Boys of art, I have
deceived you both; I have directed you to wrong
places: your hearts are mighty, your skins are
whole, and let burnt sack be the issue. Come, lay
their swords to pawn. Follow me, lads of peace;
follow, follow, follow.
- Robert Shallow. Trust me, a mad host. Follow, gentlemen, follow.
- Slender. [Aside] O sweet Anne Page!
[Exeunt SHALLOW, SLENDER, PAGE, and Host]
- Doctor Caius. Ha, do I perceive dat? have you make-a de sot of
us, ha, ha?
- Sir Hugh Evans. This is well; he has made us his vlouting-stog. I
desire you that we may be friends; and let us knog
our prains together to be revenge on this same
scall, scurvy cogging companion, the host of the Garter.
- Doctor Caius. By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me
where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me too.
- Sir Hugh Evans. Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you, follow.