Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cocke?
M.Pa. I cannot tell what (the dickens) his name is my
husband had him of, what do you cal your Knights name sirrah?
Rob. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

Ford. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

M.Pa. He, he, I can neuer hit on's name; there is such a
league betweene my goodman, and he: is your Wife at home
indeed?
Ford. Indeed she is

M.Pa. By your leaue sir, I am sicke till I see her

Ford. Has Page any braines? Hath he any eies? Hath he
any thinking? Sure they sleepe, he hath no vse of them:
why this boy will carrie a letter twentie mile as easie, as
a Canon will shoot point-blanke twelue score: hee peeces
out his wiues inclination: he giues her folly motion
and aduantage: and now she's going to my wife, & Falstaffes
boy with her: A man may heare this showre sing
in the winde; and Falstaffes boy with her: good plots,
they are laide, and our reuolted wiues share damnation
together. Well, I will take him, then torture my wife,
plucke the borrowed vaile of modestie from the so-seeming
Mist[ris]. Page, divulge Page himselfe for a secure and
wilfull Acteon, and to these violent proceedings all my
neighbors shall cry aime. The clocke giues me my Qu,
and my assurance bids me search, there I shall finde Falstaffe:
I shall be rather praisd for this, then mock'd, for