Mrs 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 130 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.
Mrs Ford. If you find a man there, he shall die a flea’s death.
135 Page. Here’s no man.
Shal. By my fidelity, this is not well, Master Ford; this wrongs you.
Evans. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart: this is jealousies.
140 Ford. Well, he’s not here I seek for.
Page. No, nor nowhere else but in your brain.
Ford. Help to search my house this one time. If I find not what I seek, show no colour for my extremity; let me for ever be your table-sport; let them say of me, ‘As 145 jealous as Ford, that searched a hollow walnut for his wife’s leman.’ Satisfy me once more; once more search with me.
Mrs Ford. What, ho, Mistress Page! come you and the old woman down; my husband will come into the chamber.