« 上一頁繼續 »
Attend your office, and your quality*,
toys... ',' ^:. .. Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap : Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths un
- swept, . .. There pinch the maids as blue as bilberryt: Our radiant queen hates sluts, and sluttery. Fal. They are fairies; he, that speaks to them,
shall die. I'll wink and couch: no man their works must eye.
[Lies down upon his face. Eva. Where's Pede?-Go you, and where you
find a maid, That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said, Raise up the organs of her fantasy, i Sleep she as sound as careless infancy; But those as sleep, and think not on their sins, Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides,
and shins. Quick. About, about; Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out: Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room; That it may stand till the perpetual doom, In state as wholesome, as in state 'tis fit; Worthy the owner, and the owner it. The several chairs of order look you scour With juice of balm, and every precious flower : Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest, With loyal blazon, evermore be blest!, And nightly, meadow-fairies, look, you sing, Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring : The expressure that it bears, green let it be, More fertile-fresh than all the field to see : And, Hony soit qui mal y pense, write, In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white; Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, Buckled below fair knight-hood’s bending knee : * Fellowship.
Fairies use flowers for their charactery*.
in order set :
Fal. Heavens defend me from that Welch fairy, lest he transform me to a piece of cheese! Pist. Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in
Pist, A trial, come.
Come, will this wood take fire?
[They burn him with their tapers. Fal. Oh, oh, oh!
Quick. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire! About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme; And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time.
Eva. It is right; indeed he is full of lecheries and iniquity.
Pinch him for his villainy;
Till candles, and star-light, and moonshine, be out. During this song, the fairies pinch Falstaff. Doctor Caius comes one way, and steals away a fairy in
green; Slender another way, and takes off a fairy in white; and Fenton comes, and steals away Mrs. Anne Page. A noise of hunting is made within, All the fairies run away. Falstaff pulls off his buck's head, and rises.
Enter Page, Ford, Mrs. Page, and Mrs. Ford.
They lay hold on him. Page. Nay, do not fly: I think we have watch'd
you now; Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn ? Mrs. Page. I pray you, come; hold up the jest
no higher ; Now, good sir John, how like you Windsor wives? See you these, husband ? do not these fair yokes* Become the forest better than the town?
Ford. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now?-Master Brook, Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly knave; here are his horns, master Brook : And, master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buckbasket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money; which must be paid to master Brook; his horses are arrested for it, master Brook.
Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could never meet. I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you my deer.
Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.
Ford. Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are extant.
Fal. And these are not fairies ? I was three or four times in the thought they were not fairies : and yet the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery into a received belief, in despite of the teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. See now, how wit may be made a Jack-a-lent, when 'tis upon ill employment !
* Horns which Falstaff had.
Eva. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires, and fairies will not pinse you.
Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh.
Eva. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you.
Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art able to woo her in good English.
Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'erreaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welch goat too ? Shall I have a coxcomb of frize*? 'tis time I were choked with a piece of toasted cheese.
Eva. Seese is not good to give putter; your pelly is all putter.
Fal. Seese and putter! Have I lived to stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters of English ? This is enough to be the decay of lust and latewalking, through the realm.
Mrs. Page. Why, sir John, do you think, though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves without scruple to hell, that ever the devil could have made you our delight?
Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax?
Page. Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable entrails ?
Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan?
Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, and sack, and wine, and metheglins, and to drinkings, and swearings, and starings, pribbles and prabbles ?
Fal. Well, I am your theme : you have the start of me; I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welch flannel; ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me: use me as you will.
Ford. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one master Brook, that you have cozened of money,
* A fool's cap of Welch materials.
to whom you should have been a pander : over and above that you have suffered, I think, to repay that money will be a biting affliction. Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make
amends : Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends.
Ford. Well, here's my hand; all's forgiven at last.
Page. Yet be cheerful, knight: thou shalt eat a posset to-night at my house; where I will desire - thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee: Tell her, master Slender hath married her daughter.
Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that: if Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by this, doctor Caius' wife.
[Aside. Enter Slender. Slen. Whoo, ho! ho ! father Page !
Page. Son ! how now ? how now, son ? have you despatched ?
Slen. Despatched—I'll make the best in Glocestershire know on't; would I were hanged, la, else.
Page. Of what, son ?
Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry mistress Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy: If it had not been i' the church, I would have swinged him, or he should have swinged me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never stir, and 'tis a post-master's boy.
Page. Upon my life then you took the wrong.
Slen. What need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a boy for a girl : If I had been married to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him.
Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you, how you should know my daughter by her garments ?
Slen. I went to her in white, and cry'd mum, and she cry'd budget, as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy.