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Shal. How now, Master Parson? Good morrow, good Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good studient from his book, and it is wonderful.

Slen. [Aside.] Ah, sweet Anne Page!

Page. [God] save you, good Sir Hugh!

Evans. [God] pless you from his mercy sake, all of you!

Shal. What? the sword and the word? Do you study them both, Master Parson?

Page. And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw rheumatic day?

Evans. There is reasons and causes for it.

Page. We are come to you to do a good office, Master Parson.

Evans. Fery well; what is it?

Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike having receiv’d wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience that ever you saw.

Shal. I have liv’d fourscore years and upward; I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, so wide of his own respect.

Evans. What is he?

Page. I think you know him: Master Doctor Caius, the renown’d French physician.

Evans. Got’s will, and his passion of my heart! I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge.