POMPEY.
Nay, I beseech you, mark it well.
ESCALUS.
Well, I do so.
POMPEY.
Doth your honour see any harm in his face?
ESCALUS.
Why, no.
POMPEY.
I’ll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him. Good, then, if his face be the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the constable’s wife any harm? I would know that of your honour.
ESCALUS.
He’s in the right. Constable. What say you to it?
ELBOW.
First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman.
POMPEY.
By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all.
ELBOW.
Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! The time is yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child.
POMPEY.
Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her.