EVANS.
By yea and no, I think the ’oman is a witch indeed. I like not when a ’oman has a great peard. I spy a great peard under her muffler.
FORD.
Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you follow, see but the issue of my jealousy. If I cry out thus upon no trail, never trust me when I open again.
PAGE.
Let’s obey his humour a little further. Come, gentlemen.
[Exeunt Ford, Page, Caius, Evans and Shallow.]
MISTRESS PAGE.
Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.
MISTRESS FORD.
Nay, by th’ mass, that he did not; he beat him most unpitifully, methought.
MISTRESS PAGE.
I’ll have the cudgel hallowed and hung o’er the altar. It hath done meritorious service.
MISTRESS FORD.
What think you? May we, with the warrant of womanhood and the witness of a good conscience, pursue him with any further revenge?
MISTRESS PAGE.
The spirit of wantonness is sure scared out of him. If the devil have him not in fee-simple, with fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of waste, attempt us again.
MISTRESS FORD.
Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him?