Unless you go out disguis'd.
MRS. FORD. How might we disguise him?
MRS. PAGE. Alas the day, I know not! There is no woman's
gown big enough for him; otherwise he might put on a
hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape.
FALSTAFF. Good hearts, devise something; any extremity
rather than a mischief.
MRS. FORD. My Maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brainford, has
a gown above.
MRS. PAGE. On my word, it will serve him; she's as big as he
is; and there's her thrumm'd hat, and her muffler too. Run
up, Sir John.
MRS. FORD. Go, go, sweet Sir John. Mistress Page and I will
look some linen for your head.
MRS. PAGE. Quick, quick; we'll come dress you straight. Put
on the gown the while. Exit FALSTAFF
MRS. FORD. I would my husband would meet him in this
shape; he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he
swears she's a witch, forbade her my house, and hath
threat'ned to beat her.
MRS. PAGE. Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel; and
the devil guide his cudgel afterwards!
MRS.
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