Ford. ’Twas a good sensible fellow:—well.
Page. How now, Meg!
[Mrs Page and Mrs Ford come forward.]
Mrs Page. Whither go you, [George]? Hark you.
135 Mrs Ford. How now, sweet Frank! why art thou melancholy?
Ford. I melancholy! I am not melancholy. Get you home, go.
Mrs Ford. Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy 140 [head. Now,] will you go, Mistress Page?
Mrs Page. Have with you. You’ll come to dinner, [George]? [Aside to Mrs Ford] Look who comes yonder: she shall be our messenger to this paltry knight.
Mrs Ford. [Aside to Mrs Page] Trust me, I thought on 145 her: she’ll fit it.