The Merry Wives of Windsor
Act V, Scene 5
Another part of Windsor Park.
- Enter Falstaff with a buck’s head upon him.
Falstaff1 - 13
- The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the minute draws on.
- Now the hot-bloodied gods assist me! Remember, Jove, thou
- wast a bull for thy Europa, love set on thy horns. O
- powerful love, that in some respects makes a beast a man; in
- some other, a man a beast. You were also, Jupiter, a swan
- for the love of Leda. O omnipotent love, how near the god
- drew to the complexion of a goose! A fault done first in the
- form of a beast (O Jove, a beastly fault!) and then another
- fault in the semblance of a fowl—think on’t, Jove, a foul
- fault! When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do? For
- me, I am here a Windsor stag, and the fattest, I think, i’
- th’ forest. Send me a cool rut-time, Jove, or who can blame
May 28, 2020 Miko“Rut-time” refers to an animal's annual period of sexual activity. To “piss one's tallow” meant that the animal loses fat during rut-time. So Falstaff is hoping to have sex and lose weight at the same time.
- Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Ford.
- Sir John? Art thou there, my deer? My male deer?
Falstaff15 - 18
- My doe with the black scut? Let the sky rain potatoes; let
- it thunder to the tune of “Green-sleeves,” hail
- kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes; let there come a tempest
- of provocation, I will shelter me here.
- Embracing her.
- Mistress Page is come with me, sweet heart.
Falstaff20 - 25
- Divide me like a brib’d-buck, each a haunch. I will keep my
- sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow of this
- walk—and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a woodman,
- ha? Speak I like Herne the hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child
- of conscience, he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit,
- There is a noise of horns.
- Alas, what noise?
- Heaven forgive our sins!
- What should this be?
Both Mistress Ford and Mistress Page29
- Away, away!
- The two women run away.
Falstaff30 - 32
- I think the devil will not have me damn’d, lest the oil
- that’s in me should set hell on fire; he would never else
- cross me thus.
- Enter Evans like a satyr, Anne Page and Boys dressed like
- fairies, Pistol as Hobgoblin, Mistress Quickly like the
- Queen of Fairies.
- They sing a song about him and afterward speak.
Mistress Quickly33 - 37
- Fairies, black, grey, green, and white,
- You moonshine revelers, and shades of night,
- You orphan heirs of fixed destiny,
- Attend your office and your quality.
- Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy Oyes.
Pistol38 - 42
- Elves, list your names; silence, you aery toys!
- Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap;
- Where fires thou find’st unrak’d and hearths unswept,
- There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry;
- Our radiant Queen hates sluts and sluttery.
Falstaff43 - 44
- They are fairies, he that speaks to them shall die.
- I’ll wink and couch; no man their works must eye.
- Lies down upon his face.
Evans45 - 50
- Where’s Bede? Go you, and where you find a maid
- That ere she sleep has thrice her prayers said,
- Raise up the organs of her fantasy,
- Sleep she as sound as careless infancy;
- But those as sleep and think not on their sins,
- Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and shins.
Mistress Quickly51 - 72
- About, about;
- Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out.
- Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room,
- That it may stand till the perpetual doom
- In state as wholesome as in state ’tis fit,
- Worthy the owner, and the owner it.
- The several chairs of order look you scour
- With juice of balm and every precious flow’r;
- Each fair installment, coat, and sev’ral crest,
- With loyal blazon, evermore be blest!
- And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing,
- Like to the Garter’s compass, in a ring.
- Th’ expressure that it bears, green let it be,
- More fertile-fresh than all the field to see;
- And “Honi soit qui mal y pense” write
- In em’rald tuffs, flow’rs purple, blue, and white,
- Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery,
- Buckled below fair knighthood’s bending knee:
- Fairies use flow’rs for their charactery.
- Away, disperse! But till ’tis one a’ clock,
- Our dance of custom, round about the oak
- Of Herne the hunter, let us not forget.
Evans73 - 76
- Pray you lock hand in hand; yourselves in order set;
- And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be,
- To guide our measure round about the tree.
- But stay, I smell a man of middle-earth.
- Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy, lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!
- Vild worm, thou wast o’erlook’d even in thy birth.
Mistress Quickly79 - 82
- With trial-fire touch me his finger-end.
- If he be chaste, the flame will back descend
- And turn him to no pain; but if he start,
- It is the flesh of a corrupted heart.
- A trial, come.
- Come, will this wood take fire?
- They put the tapers to his fingers, and he starts.
- O, O, O!
Mistress Quickly86 - 98
- Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire!
- About him, fairies, sing a scornful rhyme,
- And as you trip, still pinch him to your time.
- The Song
- Fie on sinful fantasy!
- Fie on lust and luxury!
- Lust is but a bloody fire,
- Kindled with unchaste desire,
- Fed in heart, whose flames aspire,
- As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher.
- Pinch him, fairies, mutually!
- Pinch him for his villainy!
- Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about,
- Till candles, and starlight, and moonshine be out.
- Here they pinch him and sing about him. And the Doctor Caius
- comes one way, and steals away a boy in green; and Slender
- another way; he takes a boy in white; and Fenton steals
- Mistress Anne Page. And a noise of hunting is made within;
- and all the fairies run away. Falstaff pulls off his buck’s
- head, and rises up.
- Enter Page, Ford, Mistress Page, and Mistress Ford.
George99 - 100
- Nay, do not fly, I think we have watch’d you now.
- Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn?
Mistress Page101 - 104
- I pray you come, hold up the jest no higher.
- Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives?
- See you these, husband? Do not these fair yokes
- Become the forest better than the town?
Ford105 - 110
- Now, sir, who’s a cuckold now? Master Brook, Falstaff’s a
- knave, a cuckoldly knave; here are his horns, Master Brook;
- and, Master Brook, he hath enjoy’d nothing of Ford’s but his
- buck-basket his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money, which
- must be paid to Master Brook. His horses are arrested for
- it, Master Brook.
Mistress Ford111 - 113
- Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could never meet. I will
- never take you for my love again, but I will always count
- you my deer.
- I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.
- Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are extant.
Falstaff116 - 122
- And these are not fairies? I was three or four times in the
- thought they were not fairies, and yet the guiltiness of my
- mind, the sudden surprise of my powers, drove the grossness
- of the foppery into a receiv’d belief, in despite of the
- teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. See
- now how wit may be made a Jack-a-Lent, when ’tis upon ill
Evans123 - 124
- Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires, and
- fairies will not pinse you.
- Well said, fairy Hugh.
- And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you.
Ford127 - 128
- I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art able to
- woo her in good English.
Falstaff129 - 132
- Have I laid my brain in the sun and dried it, that it wants
- matter to prevent so gross o’erreaching as this? Am I ridden
- with a Welsh goat too? Shall I have a coxcomb of frieze?
- ’Tis time I were chok’d with a piece of toasted cheese.
- Seese is not good to give putter; your belly is all putter.
Falstaff134 - 136
- “Seese” and “putter”! Have I liv’d to stand at the taunt of
- one that makes fritters of English? This is enough to be the
- decay of lust and late-walking through the realm.
Mistress Page137 - 140
- Why, Sir John, do you think, though we would have thrust
- virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have
- given ourselves without scruple to hell, that ever the devil
- could have made you our delight?
- What, a hodge-pudding? A bag of flax?
- A puff’d man?
- Old, cold, wither’d, and of intolerable entrails?
- And one that is as slanderous as Satan?
- And as poor as Job?
- And as wicked as his wife?
Evans147 - 149
- And given to fornications, and to taverns, and sack, and
- wine, and metheglins, and to drinkings and swearings and
- starings, pribbles and prabbles?
Falstaff150 - 152
- Well, I am your theme. You have the start of me, I am
- dejected. I am not able to answer the Welsh flannel;
- ignorance itself is a plummet o’er me. Use me as you will.
Ford153 - 156
- Marry, sir, we’ll bring you to Windsor, to one Master Brook
- that you have cozen’d of money, to whom you should have been
- a pander. Over and above that you have suffer’d, I think to
- repay that money will be a biting affliction.
George157 - 160
- Yet be cheerful, knight. Thou shalt eat a posset tonight at
- my house, where I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, that
- now laughs at thee. Tell her Master Slender hath married her
Mistress Page161 - 162
- Doctors doubt that. If Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by
- this, Doctor Caius’ wife.
- Enter Slender.
- Whoa ho, ho! Father Page!
- Son? How now? How now, son? Have you dispatch’d?
Slender165 - 166
- Dispatch’d? I’ll make the best in Gloucestershire know on’t.
- Would I were hang’d la, else!
- Of what, son?
Slender168 - 172
- I came yonder at Eton to marry Mistress Anne Page, and she’s
- a great lubberly boy. If it had not been i’ th’ church, I
- would have swing’d him, or he should have swing’d me. If I
- did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never
- stir!—and ’tis a postmaster’s boy.
- Upon my life then, you took the wrong.
Slender174 - 176
- When need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a boy
- for a girl. If I had been married to him (for all he was in
- woman’s apparel) I would not have had him.
George177 - 178
- Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you how you
- should know my daughter by her garments?
Slender179 - 181
- I went to her in white and cried “mum,” and she cried
- “budget,” as Anne and I had appointed, and yet it was not
- Anne, but a postmaster’s boy.
Mistress Page182 - 184
- Good George, be not angry. I knew of your purpose; turn’d my
- daughter into green; and indeed she is now with the Doctor
- at the dean’ry, and there married.
- Enter Caius.
Caius185 - 187
- Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I am cozen’d. I ha’ married
- oon garsoon, a boy; oon pesant, by gar. A boy! It is not
- Anne Page. By gar, I am cozen’d.
- Why? Did you take her in green?
- Ay, be-gar, and ’tis a boy. Be-gar, I’ll raise all Windsor.
- This is strange. Who hath got the right Anne?
George191 - 192
- My heart misgives me. Here comes Master Fenton.
- Enter Fenton and Anne Page.
- How now, Master Fenton?
- Pardon, good father! Good my mother, pardon!
- Now, mistress, how chance you went not with Master Slender?
- Why went you not with Master Doctor, maid?
Fenton196 - 206
- You do amaze her. Hear the truth of it.
- You would have married her most shamefully,
- Where there was no proportion held in love.
- The truth is, she and I (long since contracted)
- Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us.
- Th’ offense is holy that she hath committed,
- And this deceit loses the name of craft,
- Of disobedience, or unduteous title,
- Since therein she doth evitate and shun
- A thousand irreligious cursed hours
- Which forced marriage would have brought upon her.
Ford207 - 209
- Stand not amaz’d; here is no remedy.
- In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state;
- Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.
- I am glad, though you have ta’en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanc’d.
George211 - 212
- Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy!
- What cannot be eschew’d must be embrac’d.
- When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chas’d.
Mistress Page214 - 218
- Well, I will muse no further. Master Fenton,
- Heaven give you many, many merry days!
- Good husband, let us every one go home,
- And laugh this sport o’er by a country fire—
- Sir John and all.
Ford219 - 221
- Let it be so. Sir John,
- To Master Brook you yet shall hold your word,
- For he tonight shall lie with Mistress Ford.
|"rut, n.1." OED Online, Oxford University Press, March 2020, www.oed.com/view/Entry/169155. Accessed 28 May 2020.|
|"piss, v." OED Online, Oxford University Press, March 2020, www.oed.com/view/Entry/144598. Accessed 28 May 2020.|