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.
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?
As I am a Christians soul now, look you, this is the
place appointed: I'll be judgement by mine host of
the Garter.
Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welsh,
soul-curer and body-curer!
Ay, dat is very good; excellent.
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.
Trust me, a mad host. Follow, gentlemen, follow.
O sweet Anne Page!
Ha, do I perceive dat? have you make-a de sot of
us, ha, ha?
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.
By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me
where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me too.
Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you, follow.
Nay, keep your way, little gallant; you were wont to
be a follower, but now you are a leader. Whether
had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels?
I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a man
than follow him like a dwarf.
O, you are a flattering boy: now I see you'll be a courtier.
Well met, Mistress Page. Whither go you?
Truly, sir, to see your wife. Is she at home?
Ay; and as idle as she may hang together, for want
of company. I think, if your husbands were dead,
you two would marry.
Be sure of that,--two other husbands.
Where had you this pretty weather-cock?