Mrs. Page. Good George, be not angry: I knew of your purpose; turned my daughter into green; and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at the deanery, and there married. Enter CAIUS. Caius. Vere is mistress Page? By gar, I am cozened: I ha' married un garçon, a boy; un paisan, by gar, a boy; it is not Anne Page: by gar, I am cozened. Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green ? Caius. Ay, be gar, and 'tis a boy; be gar, I'll raise all Windsor. [Exit CAIUS. Ford. This is strange! Who hath got the right Anne? Page. My heart misgives me: Here comes master Fenton. Enter FENTON and ANNE Page. How now, master Fenton ? Anne. Pardon, good father! good my mother, pardon! Page. Now, mistress? how chance you went not with master Slender? Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master doctor. maid? Fent. You do amaze 20 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. The offence is holy that she hath committed: And this deceit loses the name of craft, Of disobedience, or unduteous guileo1; 20 Amaze, i. e. Confound her by your questions. 21 The old copy has title. The correction is from Mr. Collier's Since therein she doth evitate and shun A thousand irreligious cursed hours, Which forced marriage would have brought upon her. Ford. 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. Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced. Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy! What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd. Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chas'd 22. Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further :-master Heaven give you many, many merry days! Let it be so : -Sir John, Ford. [Exeunt 22 Young and old, does as well as bucks. He alludes to Fen ton's having run down Anne Page. The quartoes add: "Eva. I will dance and eat plums at your wedding." THE PASTORAL BY CH. MARLOWE. Referred to Act iii. Sc. 1, of the foregoing Play. COME, live with me, and be my love, There will I make thee beds of roses A gown made of the finest wool, A belt of straw, and ivy buds, Thy silver dishes for thy meat, The shepherd swains shall dance and sing |