2. SCENE II. London. Another street.
Ephesians, my lord, of the old church.
Sup any women with him?
None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and Mistress Doll Tearsheet.
What pagan may that be?
A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master's.
Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town bull. Shall
we steal upon them, Ned, at supper?
I am your shadow, my lord; I'll follow you.
Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your master that
I am yet come to town: there's for your silence.
I have no tongue, sir.
And for mine, sir, I will govern it.
Fare you well; go.
[Exeunt Bardolph and Page.]
This Doll Tearsheet should be some road.
I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint Alban's and London.
How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true
colours, and not ourselves be seen?
Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at
his table as drawers.
From a God to a bull? a heavy descension! it was Jove's case.
From a prince to a prentice? a low transformation! that shall be
mine; for in everything the purpose must weigh with the folly.
Follow me, Ned.