How does pretty
Mistress
Anne?
Shakespeare
Exeunt CAIUS and RUGBY
QUICKLY. You shall have-An fool's-head of your own. No,
I know Anne's mind for that; never a woman in Windsor
knows more of Anne's mind than I do; nor can do more
than I do with her, I thank heaven.
FENTON. [Within] Who's within there? ho!
QUICKLY. Who's there, I trow? Come near the house, I pray
you.
Enter FENTON
FENTON. How now, good woman, how dost thou?
QUICKLY. The better that it pleases your good worship to
ask.
FENTON. What news?
How does pretty Mistress Anne?
QUICKLY. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and
gentle; and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by
the way; I praise heaven for it.
FENTON. Shall I do any good, think'st thou? Shall I not lose
my suit?
QUICKLY. Troth, sir, all is in His hands above; but
notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a book
she loves you. Have not your worship a wart above your eye?
FENTON. Yes, marry, have I; what of that?
QUICKLY. Well, thereby hangs a tale; good faith, it is such
another Nan; but, I detest, an honest maid as ever broke
bread. We had an hour's talk of that wart; I shall never
laugh but in that maid's company! But, indeed, she is
given too much to allicholy and musing; but for you-well,
go to.
FENTON.
QUICKLY. You shall have-An fool's-head of your own. No,
I know Anne's mind for that; never a woman in Windsor
knows more of Anne's mind than I do; nor can do more
than I do with her, I thank heaven.
FENTON. [Within] Who's within there? ho!
QUICKLY. Who's there, I trow? Come near the house, I pray
you.
Enter FENTON
FENTON. How now, good woman, how dost thou?
QUICKLY. The better that it pleases your good worship to
ask.
FENTON. What news?
How does pretty Mistress Anne?
QUICKLY. In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and
gentle; and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by
the way; I praise heaven for it.
FENTON. Shall I do any good, think'st thou? Shall I not lose
my suit?
QUICKLY. Troth, sir, all is in His hands above; but
notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a book
she loves you. Have not your worship a wart above your eye?
FENTON. Yes, marry, have I; what of that?
QUICKLY. Well, thereby hangs a tale; good faith, it is such
another Nan; but, I detest, an honest maid as ever broke
bread. We had an hour's talk of that wart; I shall never
laugh but in that maid's company! But, indeed, she is
given too much to allicholy and musing; but for you-well,
go to.
FENTON.