MISTRESS PAGE.
I will lay a plot to try that, and we will yet have more tricks with Falstaff. His dissolute disease will scarce obey this medicine.
MISTRESS FORD.
Shall we send that foolish carrion Mistress Quickly to him, and excuse his throwing into the water, and give him another hope, to betray him to another punishment?
MISTRESS PAGE.
We will do it. Let him be sent for tomorrow eight o’clock to have amends.
Enter Ford, Page, Caius and Sir Hugh Evans.
FORD
I cannot find him. Maybe the knave bragged of that he could not compass.
MISTRESS PAGE.
[Aside to Mistress Ford.] Heard you that?
MISTRESS FORD.
You use me well, Master Ford, do you?
FORD.
Ay, I do so.
MISTRESS FORD.
Heaven make you better than your thoughts!
FORD.
Amen!