Act V, Scene iv

[Enter Beadles, dragging in Hostess Quickly and Doll Tearsheet.]

HOSTESS.:

No, thou arrant knave; I would to God that I might die,

that I might have thee hanged: thou hast drawn my shoulder out

of joint.

FIRST BEADLE.:

The constables have delivered her over to me; and she shall have

whipping-cheer enough, I warrant her: there hath been a man

or two lately killed about her.

DOLL.:

Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come on; I'll tell thee what, thou

damned tripe-visaged rascal, an the child I now go with do

miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou

paper-faced villain.

HOSTESS.:

O the Lord, that Sir John were come! he would make this a

bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb

miscarry!

FIRST BEADLE.:

If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; you

have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me; for the

man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst you.

DOLL.:

I'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you as

soundly swinged for this,—you blue-bottle rogue, you filthy famished

correctioner, if you be not swinged, I'll forswear half-kirtles.

FIRST BEADLE.:

Come, come, you she knight-errant, come.

HOSTESS.:

O God, that right should thus overcome might! Well, of

sufferance comes ease.

DOLL.:

Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.

HOSTESS.:

Ay, come, you starved blood-hound.

DOLL.:

Goodman death, goodman bones!

HOSTESS.:

Thou atomy, thou!

DOLL.:

Come, you thin thing; come, you rascal!

FIRST BEADLE.:

Very well.

[Exeunt.]