By me,
Thine own true knight,
By day or night,
Or any kind of light,
With all his might,
For thee to fight,
JOHN FALSTAFF.'

What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked, wicked world! One that is
well-nigh worn to pieces with age to show himself a young gallant.
What an unweighed behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard picked, with
the devil's name! out of my conversation, that he dares in this manner
assay me? Why, he hath not been thrice in my company! What should I
say to him? I was then frugal of my mirth:--Heaven forgive me! Why,
I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting down of men.
How shall I be revenged on him? for revenged I will be, as sure as
his guts are made of puddings.

[Enter MISTRESS FORD.]

MRS. FORD.
Mistress Page! trust me, I was going to your house.

MRS. PAGE.
And, trust me, I was coming to you. You look very ill.

MRS. FORD.
Nay, I'll ne'er believe that; I have to show to the contrary.

MRS. PAGE.