- cid
- bafkreidzzdpwqer4o2emyrmznzaartizf2e6n322kwxopdlhc5l3222wwm
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- 03_merry_wives_of_windsor_1905_page_0083.jpg
- height
- 1778
- key
- pdf-page-1769806443586-hui3fadv2s
- page_number
- 83
- pdf_type
- born_digital
- size
- 344933
- text
- Scene II] Merry Wives of Windsor 77
Mrs. Page. I cannot tell what the dickens his
name is my husband had him of. — What do you
call your knight's name, sirrah ?
Robin. Sir John Falstaff. 20
Ford. Sir John Falstaff !
Mrs. Page. He, he ; I can never hit on 's name.
— There is such a league between my good man
and he ! Is your wife at home indeed ?
Ford. Indeed she is.
Mrs. Page. By your leave, sir. I am sick till I
see her. {^Exeunt Mrs. Page and Robin.
Ford. Has Page any brains ?. hath he any eyes ?
hath he any thinking ? Sure they sleep ; he hath no
use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter 30
twenty mile as easy as a cannon will shoot point-
blank twelve score. He pieces out his wife's incli-
nation, he gives her folly motion and advantage ;
and now she 's going to my wife, and Falstaff's boy
with her. A man may hear this shower sing in the
wind. — And Falstaff's boy with her ! — Good plots,
they are laid ; and our revolted wives share damna-
tion together. Well ; I will take him, then torture
my wife, pluck the borrowed veil of modesty from
the so-seeming Mistress Page, divulge Page himself 40
for a secure and wilful Actaeon ; and to these violent
proceedings all my neighbours shall cry aim. —
\^Clock strikes.'] The clock gives me my cue, and
my assurance bids me search; there I shall find
Falstaff. I shall be rather praised for this than
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:54:03.586Z
- text_extracted_by
- pdf-processor
- text_has_content
- true
- text_source
- born_digital
- uploaded
- true
- width
- 1084