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Cry'st now," earth, give us that king again,
A Street in London.
Enter Hostess, FANG, and SNARE. Host. Master Fang, have you entered the action?
Fang. It is entered.-Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff.
Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab. Fang. An I but fist him
once ; an a' come but within my vice;
Host. I am undone by his going; I warrant you, he's an infinite thing upon my score :-Good Master Fang, hold him sure :--good Master Snare, let him not 'scape. He comes continually to Pye Corner, (saving your manhoods), to buy a saddle; and he's indited to dinner, to the Lubbar’s Head, in Lumbart Street, to Master Smooth's, the silkman: I pray ye, since my
exion is entered, and my case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his an
A hundred mark is a long loan for a poor lone woman to bear; and I have borne, and borne, and borne; and have been 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. Enter Sir John FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, and the
Page. Fal. How now! whose mare's dead? what's the matter?
Fang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly.
Fal. Away, varlets !-Draw, Bardolph, cut me off the villain's head ; throw the quean in the channel.
Host. Throw me in the channel ?-Murder, murder! O thou honey-suckle villain! wilt thou kill Heaven's officers, and the king's ?
Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph.
Host. Good people, bring a rescue or two.-Thou wo't, wo't thou? thou wo't, wo't thou? do, do, thou rogue ! do, thou hemp-seed!
Fal. Away, you scullion! you rampallian! you fustilarian! I'll tickle your catastrophe. Enter the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE, and Two APPA
Ch. Just. What's the matter ? keep the peace here, ho!
Host. Good my lord, be good to me, I beseech you.
Ch. Just. How now, Sir John? what are you brawl.
Doth this become your place, your time, and busi
ness? You should have been well on your way to York. Stand from him, fellow ; Wherefore hang'st thou on
him? Host. O my most worshipful lord, an't please your grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit.