The Merry Wives of Windsor (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶
Scoena Quarta.
¶
Enter Fenton, Anne, Page, Shallow, Slender,
¶Quickly, Page, Mist. Page.
¶Therefore no more turne me to him (sweet Nan.)
¶Anne. Alas, how then?
¶He doth obiect, I am too great of birth,
1575And that my state being gall'd with my expence,
¶I seeke to heale it onely by his wealth.
¶My Riots past, my wilde Societies,
1580I should loue thee, but as a property.
¶An. May be he tels you true.
¶Was the first motiue that I woo'd thee (Anne:)
1585Yet wooing thee, I found thee of more valew
¶And 'tis the very riches of thy selfe,
¶That now I ayme at.
¶An. Gentle M. Fenton,
¶Cannot attaine it, why then harke you hither.
¶I care not for that, but that I am affeard.
1600An. I come to him. This is my Fathers choice:
¶O what a world of vilde ill-fauour'd faults
¶Lookes handsome in three hundred pounds a yeere?
¶Pray you a word with you.
1605Shal. Shee's comming; to her Coz:
¶O boy, thou hadst a father.
¶Slen. I had a father (M. An) my vncle can tel you good
¶Slen. I that I do, as well as I loue any woman in Glo-
¶Shal. He will maintaine you like a Gentlewoman.
¶Slen. I that I will, come cut and long-taile, vnder the
1615degree of a Squire.
¶Shal. He will make you a hundred and fiftie pounds
¶ioynture.
¶selfe.
1620Shal. Marrie I thanke you for it: I thanke you for
¶that good comfort: she cals you (Coz) Ile leaue you.
¶Anne. What is your will?
1625Slen. My will? Odd's-hart-lings, that's a prettie
¶iest indeede: I ne're made my Will yet (I thanke Hea-
¶praise.
¶Anne. I meane (M. Slender) what wold you with me?
1630Slen. Truely, for mine owne part, I would little or
¶nothing with you: your father and my vncle hath made
¶motions: if it be my lucke, so; if not, happy man bee his
¶dole, they can tell you how things go, better then I can:
¶you may aske your father, heere he comes.
1635Page. Now Mr Slender; Loue him daughter Anne.
¶Why how now? What does Mr Fenter here?
¶Fen. Nay Mr Page, be not impatient.
1640Mist. Page. Good M. Fenton. come not to my child.
¶Page. She is no match for you.
¶Fen. Sir, will you heare me?
¶Page. No, good M. Fenton.
¶Come M. Shallow: Come sonne Slender, in;
1645Knowing my minde, you wrong me (M. Fenton.)
¶Perforce, against all checkes, rebukes, and manners,
1650I must aduance the colours of my loue,
¶And not retire. Let me haue your good will.
¶An. Good mother, do not marry me to yond foole.
¶band.
¶And bowl'd to death with Turnips.
¶Fenton, I will not be your friend, nor enemy:
¶And as I finde her, so am I affected:
¶Her father will be angry.
¶Looke on M. Fenton, this is my doing.
¶Fen. I thanke thee: and I pray thee once to night,
¶Giue my sweet Nan this Ring: there's for thy paines.
¶heart he hath: a woman would run through fire & wa-
¶had Mistris Anne, or I would M. Slender had her: or (in
¶sooth) I would M. Fenton had her; I will do what I can
Exeunt
