SHALLOW. I have lived 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
renowned 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.
PAGE. Why?
EVANS. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and
Galen, and he is a knave besides-a cowardly knave as you
would desires to be acquainted withal.
PAGE. I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him.
SLENDER. [Aside] O sweet Anne Page!
SHALLOW. It appears so, by his weapons. Keep them asunder;
here comes Doctor Caius.
Enter HOST, CAIUS, and RUGBY
PAGE. Nay, good Master Parson, keep in your weapon.
SHALLOW. So do you, good Master Doctor.
HOST. Disarm them, and let them question; let them keep
their limbs whole and hack our English.
CAIUS. I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your ear.
Verefore will you not meet-a me?
EVANS.
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