Hostesse. No, nor I neither: Ile be at your elbow
Fang. If I but fist him once: if he come but within my
Vice
Host. I am vndone with his going: I warrant he is an infinitiue thing vpon my score. Good M[aster]. Fang hold him sure: good M[aster]. Snare let him not scape, he comes continuantly to Py-Corner (sauing your manhoods) to buy a saddle, and hee is indited to dinner to the Lubbars head in Lombardstreet, to M[aster]. Smoothes the Silkman. I pra' ye, since my Exion is enter'd, and my Case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer: A 100. Marke is a long one, for a poore lone woman to beare: & I haue borne, and borne, and borne, and haue bin fub'd off, and fub'd-off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing, vnles a woman should be made an Asse and a Beast, to beare euery Knaues wrong.
Enter Falstaffe and Bardolfe.
Yonder he comes, and that arrant Malmesey-Nose Bardolfe
with him. Do your Offices, do your offices: M[aster]. Fang, &
M[aster].
Snare, do me, do me, do me your Offices
Fal. How now? whose Mare's dead? what's the matter?
Fang. Sir Iohn, I arrest you, at the suit of Mist. Quickly
Falst. Away Varlets, draw Bardolfe: Cut me off the
Villaines head: throw the Queane in the Channel
Host. Throw me in the channell? Ile throw thee there. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue. Murder, murder, O thou Hony-suckle villaine, wilt thou kill Gods officers, and the Kings? O thou hony-seed Rogue, thou art a honyseed, a Man-queller, and a woman-queller
Falst. Keep them off, Bardolfe
Fang. A rescu, a rescu