MRS. PAGE. Why, then, you are utterly sham'd, and he's but
a dead man. What a woman are you! Away with him,
away with him; better shame than murder.
MRS. FORD. Which way should he go? How should I bestow
him? Shall I put him into the basket again?
Re-enter FALSTAFF
FALSTAFF. No, I'll come no more i' th' basket. May I not go
out ere he come?
MRS. PAGE. Alas, three of Master Ford's brothers watch the
door with pistols, that none shall issue out; otherwise you
might slip away ere he came. But what make you here?
FALSTAFF. What shall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney.
MRS. FORD. There they always use to discharge their
birding-pieces.
MRS. PAGE. Creep into the kiln-hole.
FALSTAFF. Where is it?
MRS. FORD. He will seek there, on my word. Neither press,
coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract
for
the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his
note. There is no hiding you in the house.
FALSTAFF. I'll go out then.
MRS. PAGE. If you go out in your own semblance, you die,
Sir John.
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