Page. Of what sonne? Slen. I came yonder at Eaton to marry Mistris Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not bene i'th Church, I would haue swing'd him, or hee should haue swing'd me. If I did not thinke it had beene Anne Page, would I might neuer stirre, and 'tis a Post-masters Boy Page. Vpon my life then, you tooke the wrong Slen. What neede you tell me that? I think so, when I tooke a Boy for a Girle: If I had bene married to him, (for all he was in womans apparrell) I would not haue had him Page. Why this is your owne folly, Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter, By her garments? Slen. I went to her in greene, and cried Mum, and she cride budget, as Anne and I had appointed, and yet it was not Anne, but a Post-masters boy Mist.Page. Good George be not angry, I knew of your purpose: turn'd my daughter into white, and indeede she is now with the Doctor at the Deanrie, and there married Cai. Ver is Mistris Page: by gar I am cozoned, I ha married oon Garsoon, a boy; oon pesant, by gar. A boy, it is not An Page, by gar, I am cozened M.Page. Why? did you take her in white? Cai. I bee gar, and 'tis a boy: be gar, Ile raise all Windsor Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the right Anne? Page. My heart misgiues me, here comes Mr Fenton. How now Mr Fenton? Anne. Pardon good father, good my mother pardon Page. Now Mistris: How chance you went not with Mr Slender? M.Page. Why went you not with Mr Doctor, maid? Fen. You do amaze her: heare the truth of it, You would haue married her most shamefully, Where there was no proportion held in loue: The truth is, she and I (long since contracted) Are now so sure that nothing can dissolue vs: Th' offence is holy, that she hath committed, And this deceit looses the name of craft, Of disobedience, or vnduteous title, Since therein she doth euitate and shun A thousand irreligious cursed houres Which forced marriage would haue brought vpon her Ford. Stand not amaz'd, here is no remedie: In Loue, the heauens themselues do guide the state, Money buyes Lands, and wiues are sold by fate Fal. I am glad, though you haue tane a special stand to strike at me, that your Arrow hath glanc'd Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heauen giue thee ioy, what cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd Fal. When night-dogges run, all sorts of Deere are chac'd Mist.Page. Well, I will muse no further: Mr Fenton, Heauen giue you many, many merry dayes: Good husband, let vs euery one go home, And laugh this sport ore by a Countrie fire, Sir Iohn and all Ford. Let it be so (Sir Iohn:) To Master Broome, you yet shall hold your word, For he, to night, shall lye with Mistris Ford: Exeunt. FINIS. THE Merry Wiues of Windsor. Measvre, For Measure Actus primus, Scena prima. Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords. Duke. Escalus Esc. My Lord