MISTRESS QUICKLY.
Speak to Mistress Page.
FENTON.
Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter
In such a righteous fashion as I do,
Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners,
I must advance the colours of my love
And not retire. Let me have your good will.
ANNE.
Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool.
MISTRESS PAGE.
I mean it not; I seek you a better husband.
MISTRESS QUICKLY.
That’s my master, Master Doctor.
ANNE.
Alas, I had rather be set quick i’ th’ earth,
And bowled to death with turnips.
MISTRESS PAGE.
Come, trouble not yourself, good Master Fenton,
I will not be your friend, nor enemy.
My daughter will I question how she loves you,
And as I find her, so am I affected.
Till then, farewell, sir. She must needs go in;
Her father will be angry.
FENTON.
Farewell, gentle mistress. Farewell, Nan.
[Exeunt Mistress Page and Anne.]
MISTRESS QUICKLY.
This is my doing now. “Nay,” said I, “will you cast away your child on a fool, and a physician? Look on Master Fenton.” This is my doing.