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Mrs. Ford. What, John! Robert! John!

[Exit Robin.]

[Enter Servants.]

Go take up these clothes here quickly. Where’s the cowl-staff? Look how you drumble! Carry them to the laundress in Datchet-mead; quickly, come.

[Enter] Ford, Page, Caius, Evans.

Ford. Pray you come near. If I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me, then let me be your jest, I deserve it. How now? Whither bear you this?

Serv. To the laundress, forsooth.

Mrs. Ford. Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? You were best meddle with buck-washing.

Ford. Buck! I would I could wash myself of the buck! Buck, buck, buck! ay, buck! I warrant you, buck, and of the season too, it shall appear. [Exeunt Servants with the basket.] Gentlemen, I have dream’d to-night; I’ll tell you my dream. Here, here, here be my keys. Ascend my chambers, search, seek, find out. I’ll warrant we’ll unkennel the fox. Let me stop this way first. [Locking the door.] So, now uncape.

Page. Good Master Ford, be contented. You wrong yourself too much.