[Exit Rugby.]

[Sings.] And down, down, adown-a, &c.

[Enter doctor caius.]

Caius. 
Vat is you sing?  I do not like des toys.  Pray you, go and vetch me
in my closet une boitine verde—­a box, a green-a box:  do intend vat
I speak? a green-a box.

Quickly. 
Ay, forsooth, I’ll fetch it you. [Aside] I am glad he went not in
himself:  if he had found the young man, he would have been horn-mad.

Caius. 
Fe, fe, fe fe! ma foi, il fait fort chaud.  Je m’en vais a la cour—­
la grande affaire.

Quickly. 
Is it this, sir?

Caius. 
Oui; mettez le au mon pocket:  depechez, quickly—­Vere is dat knave,
Rugby?

Quickly. 
What, John Rugby?  John!

[Re-enter Rugby.]

Rugby. 
Here, sir.

Caius. 
You are John Rugby, and you are Jack Rugby:  come, take-a your rapier,
and come after my heel to de court.

Rugby. 
’Tis ready, sir, here in the porch.

Caius. 
By my trot, I tarry too long—­Od’s me!  Qu’ay j’oublie?  Dere is some
simples in my closet dat I vill not for the varld I shall leave behind.

Quickly.
[Aside.] Ay me, he’ll find the young man there, and be mad!

Caius. 
O diable, diable! vat is in my closet?—­Villainy! larron!
[Pulling simple out.] Rugby, my rapier!

Quickly. 
Good master, be content.

Caius. 
Verefore shall I be content-a?

Quickly. 
The young man is an honest man.

Caius. 
What shall de honest man do in my closet? dere is no honest man dat
shall come in my closet.

Quickly. 
I beseech you, be not so phlegmatic.  Hear the truth of it:  he came of
an errand to me from Parson Hugh.

Caius. 
Vell.

Simple. 
Ay, forsooth, to desire her to—­

Quickly. 
Peace, I pray you.

Caius. 
Peace-a your tongue!—­Speak-a your tale.

Simple. 
To desire this honest gentlewoman, your maid, to speak a good word to
Mistress Anne Page for my master, in the way of marriage.

Quickly. 
This is all, indeed, la! but I’ll ne’er put my finger in the fire,
and need not.

Caius. 
Sir Hugh send-a you?—­Rugby, baillez me some paper:  tarry you a
little-a while. [Writes.]

Quickly.  I am glad he is so quiet:  if he had been throughly moved, you should have heard him so loud and so melancholy.  But notwithstanding, man, I’ll do you your master what good I can; and the very yea and the no is, the French doctor, my master—­I may call him my master, look you, for I keep his house; and I wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and do all myself—­