and what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. God be praised for my jealousy! Eleven o'clock the hour. I will prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on Falstaff, and laugh at Page. I will about it; better three hours too soon than a minute too late. Fie, fie, fie! cuckold! cuckold! cuckold! Jack Rugby! Sir? Vat is de clock, Jack? 'Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh promised to meet. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no come; he has pray his Pible well, dat he is no come: by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come. He is wise, sir; he knew your worship would kill him, if he came. By gar, de herring is no dead so as I vill kill him. Take your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you how I vill kill him. Alas, sir, I cannot fence. Villany, take your rapier. Forbear; here's company. Bless thee, bully doctor! Save you, Master Doctor Caius! Now, good master doctor! Give you good morrow, sir. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for? To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee traverse; to see thee here, to see thee there; to see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? is he dead, my Francisco? ha, bully! What says my Aesculapius? my Galen? my heart of elder? ha! is he dead, bully stale? is he dead? By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of de vorld; he is not show his face. Thou art a Castalion-King-Urinal. Hector of Greece, my boy! I pray you, bear vitness that me have stay six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come. He is the wiser man, master doctor: he is a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should fight, you go against the hair of your professions. Is it not true, Master Page? Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, though now a man of peace. Bodykins, Master Page, though I now be old and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one. Though we are justices and doctors and churchmen, Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are the sons of women, Master Page. 'Tis true