DOLL.
Away, you cut-purse rascal, you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I’ll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal, you basket-hilt stale juggler, you! Since when, I pray you, sir? God’s light, with two points on your shoulder? Much!
PISTOL.
God let me not live, but I will murder your ruff for this.
FALSTAFF.
No more, Pistol! I would not have you go off here. Discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.
HOSTESS.
No, good Captain Pistol, not here, sweet captain.
DOLL.
Captain! Thou abominable damned cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called captain? An captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you have earned them. You a captain? You slave, for what? For tearing a poor whore’s ruff in a bawdy-house? He a captain! Hang him, rogue, he lives upon mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes. A captain? God’s light, these villains will make the word as odious as the word “occupy,” which was an excellent good word before it was ill sorted. Therefore captains had need look to’t.
BARDOLPH.
Pray thee go down, good ancient.
FALSTAFF.
Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
PISTOL.
Not I. I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could tear her. I’ll be revenged of her.
PAGE.
Pray thee go down.
PISTOL.
I’ll see her damned first to Pluto’s damned lake, by this hand, to th’ infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! Down, faitors! Have we not Hiren here?