NICOLAI

THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR

Mistress Ford and Mistress Page receive identical love letters from an improbable source:

MISTRESS FORD:

The good-for-nothing bloated sot!

Can this be on the level?

A letter full of utter rot,

Of adolescent drivel!

Ah, were he handsome, young and slim,

My heart might have a flutter.

But spare me from the likes of him,

A walking tub of butter.

Could I have read the note correctly?

“Oh, fairest one, our tempers

Are suited to a tee.

Your torrid eyes, like embers,

Have kindled fire in me.”

The nerve of this romantic lout!

That fire I promise I’ll put out . . .

MISTRESS PAGE:

My neighbor Mistress Ford must see

The folderol he’s written.

The author is, I guarantee,

The biggest boob in Britain.

BOTH:

What a rascal! What a roue!

Two letters both as like as eggs.

Neighbor, we must find a new way

To avenge our insulted sex . . .

A trap with baited hook we’ll set

That he is bound to fall for;

And when we’ve caught him in the net,

The neighborhood we’ll call for.

We’ll find the appetizing bait

To lure the fellow to his fate.

Together we shall hatch a plan

To spring a trap and catch a man . . .

Sir John Falstaff relives the indignity of being stuffed into a laundry basket and cast into the river:

FALSTAFF:

Yes, Sir Brook! A bare escape!

Me and my majestic shape!

Stifled under dirty drawers,

Barely mentionable horrors,

There I crouch with tortured limbs

Till I’ve landed in the Thames.

Ah, Sir Brook! You realize,

Me and my majestic size . . .

Falstaff and Ford are equally confident of their ability to outwit the other:

FALSTAFF:

How glad am I, how light as air!

On wings of love I fly, sir,

An eager, willing wife to share,

Her husband none the wiser.

You’ll know him well tomorrow morn,

For he’s the chap that wears the horn.

FORD:

How glad am I, how light as air!

I fly as high as you, sir.

(Today’s the day I’m bound to snare

That bottom heavy boozer.

And then he’ll get his just reward.

With compliments of Mister Ford.)

Young Fenton serenades his beloved Anne Page:

Hark, the lark I hear in song;

Listen, listen well, my love.

At your window linger long

As the music fills the grove.

Lucid is the gentle flow,

Telling what all lovers know . . .

Anne and Fenton refuse to be daunted by the opposition:

Look ahead! Never doubt!

For our lives have barely started.

Courage up! Never doubt!

Neither bar nor bolt can keep true lovers parted.

It will all turn out . . .

In Windsor Forest, the scene is set for the final showdown between Falstaff and the merry wives:

CHORUS:

Oh, starry night!

Pale moon’s domain,

Where fears take flight

And lovers reign.

FALSTAFF:

The chimes of midnight sound the hour;

The moment draws apace.

Oh, Jupiter! You, too, wore horns

When eager for the chase.

If such a god became a buck,

High time Sir John go try his luck.

But hush! A rustle in the grove!

My dainty doe has come to rove . . .

Sir John Falstaff cringes, as goblins, imps and spirits of the night rise in indignation:

CHORUS:

Come, you spirits full of glee!

We’ll punish his audacity.

Pinch him, punch him, jab and jerk

Until the captive goes berserk.

Foxy fool, you are asking for trouble;

Lucky you, to escape with your life!

Plots and plans tend to burst like a bubble

When you pursue a spry, merry wife.

Rogue and traitor! Fabricator!

Now your fatal hour has sounded.

Lechery and treachery,

Your double-dealing’s here confounded . . .

Finally, all is forgiven:

TRIO:

The pranks of the night now over and done,

We bring down the curtain with lovers united.

Make way for a wedding, with feasting and fun;

To join in the revel, all friends are invited . . .

Forgive and forget! The time arrives;

Dear friends, may your hearts turn mellow.

If you have enjoyed the Merry Wives,

You, too, will forgive the fat fellow . . .