Reference > William Shakespeare > The Oxford Shakespeare > The Merry Wives of Windsor
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William Shakespeare (1564–1616).  The Oxford Shakespeare.  1914.
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor
 
Act II. Scene III.
 
A Field near Windsor.
 
Enter CAIUS and RUGBY.
  Caius.  Jack Rugby!
  Rug.  Sir?
  Caius.  Vat is de clock, Jack?        5
  Rug.  ’Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh promised to meet.
  Caius.  By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no come: he has pray his Pible vell, dat he is no come. By gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come.
  Rug.  He is wise, sir; he knew your worship would kill him, if he came.
  Caius.  By gar, de herring is no dead so as I vill kill him. Take your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you how I vill kill him.
  Rug.  Alas, sir! I cannot fence.        10
  Caius.  Villany, take your rapier.
  Rug.  Forbear; here’s company.
 
Enter Host, SHALLOW, SLENDER, and PAGE.
  Host.  Bless thee, bully doctor!
  Shal.  Save you, Master Doctor Caius!        15
  Page.  Now, good Master doctor!
  Slen.  Give you good morrow, sir.
  Caius.  Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for?
  Host.  To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee traverse; to see thee here, to see thee there; to see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? is he dead, my Francisco? ha, bully! What says my Æsculapius? my Galen? my heart of elder? ha! is he dead, bully stale? is he dead?
  Caius.  By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of de vorld; he is not show his face.        20
  Host.  Thou art a Castilian King Urinal! Hector of Greece, my boy!
  Caius.  I pray you, bear vitness that me have stay six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come.
  Shal.  He is the wiser man, Master doctor: he is a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should fight, you go against the hair of your professions. Is it not true, Master Page?
  Page.  Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, though now a man of peace.
  Shal.  Bodykins, Master Page, though I now be old and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one. Though we are justices and doctors and churchmen, Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us; we are the sons of women, Master Page.        25
  Page.  ’Tis true, Master Shallow.
  Shal.  It will be found so, Master Page. Master Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am sworn of the peace: you have showed yourself a wise physician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient churchman. You must go with me, Master doctor.
  Host.  Pardon, guest-justice.—A word, Monsieur Mockwater.
  Caius.  Mock-water! vat is dat?
  Host.  Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully.        30
  Caius.  By gar, den, I have as much mock-vater as de Englishman.—Scurvy jack-dog priest! by gar, me vill cut his ears.
  Host.  He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully.
  Caius.  Clapper-de-claw! vat is dat?
  Host.  That is, he will make thee amends.
  Caius.  By gar, me do look, he shall clapper-de-claw me; for, by gar, me vill have it.        35
  Host.  And I will provoke him to ’t, or let him wag.
  Caius.  Me tank you for dat.
  Host.  And moreover, bully,—But first, Master guest, and Master Page, and eke Cavaliero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore.  [Aside to them.
  Page.  Sir Hugh is there, is he?
  Host.  He is there: see what humour he is in; and I will bring the doctor about by the fields. Will it do well?        40
  Shal.  We will do it.
Page, Shal., and Slen.  Adieu, good Master doctor.  [Exeunt PAGE, SHAL., and SLEN.
  Caius.  By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page.
  Host.  Let him die. Sheathe thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler: go about the fields with me through Frogmore: I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a farm-house a-feasting; and thou shalt woo her. Cried I aim? said I well?
  Caius.  By gar, me tank you for dat: by gar, I love you; and I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patients.        45
  Host.  For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne Page: said I well?
  Caius.  By gar, ’tis good; vell said.
  Host.  Let us wag, then.
  Caius.  Come at my heels, Jack Rugby.  [Exeunt.
 
 
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