Master Fang, have you entered the action?

It is entered.

Where’s your yeoman? Is ’t a lusty yeoman? Will he stand to ’t?

Sirrah, where’s Snare?

O Lord, ay! Good Master Snare.

Here, here.

Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.

Yea, good Master Snare, I have entered him and all.

It may chance cost some of our lives, for he will stab.

Alas the day, take heed of him. He stabbed me in mine own house, and

that most beastly, in good faith. He cares not what mischief he does,

if his weapon be out, he will foin like any devil. He will spare

neither man, woman, nor child.

If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust.

No, nor I neither. I’ll be at your elbow.

An I but fist him once, an he come but within my vice,—

I am undone by his going, I warrant you, he’s an infinitive thing upon

my score. Good Master Fang, hold him sure. Good Master Snare, let him

not ’scape. He comes continuantly to Pie Corner—saving your manhoods—to

buy a saddle, and he is indited to dinner to the Lubber’s Head in

Lumbert Street, to Master Smooth’s the silkman. I pray you, since my

exion is entered, and my case so openly known to the world, let him be

brought in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long one for a poor lone

woman to bear, and I have borne, and borne, and borne, and have been

fubbed off, and fubbed off, and fubbed off, from this day to that day,

that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty in such

dealing, unless a woman should be made an ass and a beast, to bear

every knave’s wrong. Yonder he comes, and that arrant malmsey-nose

knave, Bardolph, with him. Do your offices, do your offices, Master

Fang and Master Snare, do me, do me, do me your offices.

How now, whose mare’s dead? What’s the matter?

Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly.

Away, varlets! Draw, Bardolph! Cut me off the villain’s head. Throw the

quean in the channel.

Throw me in the channel? I’ll throw thee in the channel. Wilt thou,

wilt thou, thou bastardly rogue? Murder, murder! Ah, thou honeysuckle

villain, wilt thou kill God’s officers and the King’s? Ah, thou

honeyseed rogue, thou art a honeyseed, a man-queller, and a

woman-queller.

Keep them off, Bardolph.

A rescue! A rescue!

Good people, bring a rescue or two. Thou wo’t, wo’t thou? Thou wo’t,

wo’t ta? Do, do, thou rogue! Do, thou hempseed!

Away, you scullion! you rampallian! you fustilarian! I’ll tickle your

catastrophe.

What is the matter? Keep the peace here, ho!

Good my lord, be good to me. I beseech you stand to me.

How now, Sir John? What are you brawling here?

Doth this become your place, your time and business?

You should have been well on your way to York.

Stand from him, fellow. Wherefore hang’st thou upon him?

O my most worshipful lord, an’t please your Grace, I am a poor widow of

Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit.

For what sum?

It is more than for some, my lord; it is for all, all I have. He hath

eaten me out of house and home. He hath put all my substance into that

fat belly of his: but I will have some of it out again, or I will ride

thee o’ nights like the mare.

I think I am as like to ride the mare if I have any vantage of ground

to get up.

How comes this, Sir John? Fie! what man of good temper would endure

this tempest of exclamation? Are you not ashamed to enforce a poor

widow to so rough a course to come by her own?

What is the gross sum that I owe thee?

Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself and the money too. Thou

didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin

chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in

Wheeson week, when the Prince broke thy head for liking his father to a

singing-man of Windsor, thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing

thy wound, to marry me and make me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny

it? Did not goodwife Keech, the butcher’s wife, come in then and call

me gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar, telling us

she had a good dish of prawns, whereby thou didst desire to eat some,

whereby I told thee they were ill for green wound? And didst thou not,

when she was gone downstairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity

with such poor people, saying that ere long they should call me madam?

And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings? I

put thee now to thy book-oath. Deny it, if thou canst.

My lord, this is a poor mad soul, and she says up and down the town

that her eldest son is like you. She hath been in good case, and the

truth is, poverty hath distracted her. But for these foolish officers,

I beseech you I may have redress against them.

Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your manner of wrenching

the true cause the false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the

throng of words that come with such more than impudent sauciness from

you, can thrust me from a level consideration. You have, as it appears

to me, practised upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made

her serve your uses both in purse and in person.

Yea, in truth, my lord.

Pray thee, peace. Pay her the debt you owe her, and unpay the villany

you have done with her. The one you may do with sterling money, and the

other with current repentance.

My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without reply. You call

honourable boldness impudent sauciness; if a man will make curtsy and

say nothing, he is virtuous. No, my lord, my humble duty remembered, I

will not be your suitor. I say to you, I do desire deliverance from

these officers, being upon hasty employment in the King’s affairs.

You speak as having power to do wrong; but answer in th’ effect of your

reputation, and satisfy the poor woman.

Come hither, hostess.

Now, Master Gower, what news?

The King, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales

Are near at hand: the rest the paper tells.

As I am a gentleman.

Faith, you said so before.

As I am a gentleman. Come, no more words of it.

By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain to pawn both my

plate and the tapestry of my dining-chambers.

Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking. And for thy walls, a pretty

slight drollery, or the story of the Prodigal, or the German hunting in

waterwork, is worth a thousand of these bed-hangers and these

fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, an

’twere not for thy humours, there’s not a better wench in England. Go,

wash thy face, and draw the action. Come, thou must not be in this

humour with me; dost not know me? Come, come, I know thou wast set on

to this.

Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles. I’ faith, I am loath

to pawn my plate, so God save me, la!

Let it alone, I’ll make other shift: you’ll be a fool still.

Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I hope you’ll come to

supper. You’ll pay me all together?

Will I live? [_To Bardolph_.] Go, with her, with her. Hook on, hook on.

Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper?

No more words, let’s have her.

I have heard better news.

What’s the news, my lord?

Where lay the King tonight?

At Basingstoke, my lord.

I hope, my lord, all’s well. What is the news, my lord?

Come all his forces back?

No, fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse

Are march’d up to my Lord of Lancaster,

Against Northumberland and the Archbishop.

Comes the King back from Wales, my noble lord?

You shall have letters of me presently.

Come, go along with me, good Master Gower.

My lord!

What’s the matter?

Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner?

I must wait upon my good lord here, I thank you, good Sir John.

Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to take soldiers up

in counties as you go.

Will you sup with me, Master Gower?

What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir John?

Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that taught them me.

This is the right fencing grace, my lord; tap for tap, and so part

fair.

Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a great fool.