DOLL.
I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.
FALSTAFF.
Get you downstairs.
[Drawing, and driving Pistol out.]
HOSTESS.
Here’s a goodly tumult! I’ll forswear keeping house, afore I’ll be in these tirrits and frights. So, murder, I warrant now. Alas, alas, put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons.
[Exeunt Bardolph and Pistol.]
DOLL.
I pray thee, Jack, be quiet. The rascal’s gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you!
HOSTESS.
Are you not hurt i’ th’ groin? Methought he made a shrewd thrust at your belly.
Enter Bardolph.
FALSTAFF.
Have you turned him out o’ doors?
BARDOLPH.
Yea, sir. The rascal’s drunk. You have hurt him, sir, i’ th’ shoulder.