MISTRESS FORD.
How now, sweet Frank, why art thou melancholy?
FORD.
I melancholy? I am not melancholy. Get you home, go.
MISTRESS FORD.
Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now.—Will you go, Mistress Page?
MISTRESS PAGE.
Have with you. You’ll come to dinner, George?
[Aside to Mistress Ford.] Look who comes yonder. She shall be our messenger to this paltry knight.
MISTRESS FORD.
[Aside to Mistress Page.] Trust me, I thought on her. She’ll fit it.
Enter Mistress Quickly.
MISTRESS PAGE.
You are come to see my daughter Anne?
MISTRESS QUICKLY.
Ay, forsooth. And, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne?
MISTRESS PAGE.
Go in with us and see. We’d have an hour’s talk with you.
[Exeunt Mistress Page, Mistress Ford and Mistress Quickly.]