Falstaff. 
Good morrow, good wife.

Quickly. 
Not so, an’t please your worship.

Falstaff. 
Good maid, then.

Quickly. 
I’ll be sworn; As my mother was, the first hour I was born.

Falstaff. 
I do believe the swearer.  What with me?

Quickly. 
Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two?

Falstaff. 
Two thousand, fair woman; and I’ll vouchsafe thee the hearing.

Quickly. 
There is one Mistress Ford, sir,—­I pray, come a little nearer this
ways:—­I myself dwell with Master Doctor Caius.

Falstaff. 
Well, on:  Mistress Ford, you say,—­

Quickly. 
Your worship says very true;—­I pray your worship come a little
nearer this ways.

Falstaff. 
I warrant thee nobody hears—­mine own people, mine own people.

Quickly. 
Are they so?  God bless them, and make them His servants!

Falstaff. 
Well:  Mistress Ford, what of her?

Quickly. 
Why, sir, she’s a good creature.  Lord, Lord! your worship’s a wanton! 
Well, heaven forgive you, and all of us, I pray.

Falstaff. 
Mistress Ford; come, Mistress Ford—­

Quickly.  Marry, this is the short and the long of it.  You have brought her into such a canaries as ’tis wonderful:  the best courtier of them all, when the court lay at Windsor, could never have brought her to such a canary; yet there has been knights, and lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift; smelling so sweetly,—­all musk, and so rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold; and in such alligant terms; and in such wine and sugar of the best and the fairest, that would have won any woman’s heart; and I warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her.  I had myself twenty angels given me this morning; but I defy all angels, in any such sort, as they say, but in the way of honesty:  and, I warrant you, they could never get her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of them all; and yet there has been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners; but, I warrant you, all is one with her.

Falstaff. 
But what says she to me? be brief, my good she-Mercury.

Quickly.  Marry, she hath received your letter; for the which she thanks you a thousand times; and she gives you to notify that her husband will be absence from his house between ten and eleven.

Falstaff. 
Ten and eleven?

Quickly.  Ay, forsooth; and then you may come and see the picture, she says, that you wot of:  Master Ford, her husband, will be from home.  Alas! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him; he’s a very jealousy man; she leads a very frampold life with him, good heart.

Falstaff. 
Ten and eleven.  Woman, commend me to her; I will not fail her.