Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh.
Evans. And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you.
Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art 130 able to woo her in good English.
Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross o’erreaching as this?
Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too? shall I have a coxcomb of frize? Tis time I were choked with a piece of 135 toasted cheese.
Evans. Seese is not good to give putter; your [pelly] is all putter.
Fal. ‘Seese’ and ’putter’! have I lived to stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters of English? This is enough 140 to be the decay of lust and late-walking through the realm.
Mrs Page. Why, Sir John, do you think, though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves without scruple to hell, that ever the devil could have made you our delight?
145 Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax?
Mrs Page. A puffed man?