Enter Falstaff and Mistress Ford.
Fal. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your love, and I profess requital to a hair’s breadth; not only, Mistress Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accoutrement, 5 complement, and ceremony of it. But are you sure of your husband now?
Mrs Ford. He’s a-birding, sweet Sir John.
Mrs Page. [Within] What, ho, gossip Ford! what, ho!
Mrs Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John.
Exit Falstaff.
Enter Mistress Page.
10 Mrs Page. How now, sweetheart! who’s at home besides yourself?
Mrs Ford. Why, none but mine own people.
Mrs Page. Indeed!