MISTRESS FORD.
Heaven be my witness you do, if you suspect me in any dishonesty.
FORD.
Well said, brazen-face, hold it out.—Come forth, sirrah.
[Pulls clothes out of the basket.]
PAGE.
This passes.
MISTRESS FORD.
Are you not ashamed? Let the clothes alone.
FORD.
I shall find you anon.
EVANS.
’Tis unreasonable. Will you take up your wife’s clothes? Come, away.
FORD.
Empty the basket, I say.
MISTRESS FORD.
Why, man, why?
FORD.
Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conveyed out of my house yesterday in this basket. Why may not he be there again? In my house I am sure he is. My intelligence is true, my jealousy is reasonable.—Pluck me out all the linen.