[Laying down his sword.]
Come we to full points here? And are etceteras nothings?
FALSTAFF.
Pistol, I would be quiet.
PISTOL.
Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What! we have seen the seven stars.
DOLL.
For God’s sake, thrust him downstairs. I cannot endure such a fustian rascal.
PISTOL.
Thrust him downstairs? Know we not Galloway nags?
FALSTAFF.
Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling. Nay, an he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here.
BARDOLPH.
Come, get you downstairs.
PISTOL.
What! shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue?
[Snatching up his sword.]