   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.
