FORD. Heaven be my witness, you do, if you suspect
me in any dishonesty.
FORD. Well said, brazen-face; hold it out. Come forth, sirrah.
[Pulling clothes out of the basket]
PAGE. This passes!
MRS. FORD. Are you not asham'd? Let the clothes alone.
FORD. I shall find you anon.
EVANS. 'Tis unreasonable. Will you take up your wife's
clothes? Come away.
FORD. Empty the basket, I say.
MRS. FORD. Why, man, why?
FORD. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one convey'd
out of my house yesterday in this basket. Why may not
he be there again? In my house I am sure he is; my
intelligence is true; my jealousy is reasonable.
Pluck me out all the linen.
MRS. FORD. If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's
death.
PAGE. Here's no man.
SHALLOW. By my fidelity, this is not well, Master Ford; this
wrongs you.
EVANS. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the
imaginations of your own heart; this is jealousies.
FORD. Well, he's not here I seek for.
PAGE. No, nor nowhere else but in your brain.
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