FALSTAFF.
You may; but if he had been a man’s tailor, he’d ha’ pricked you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy’s battle as thou hast done in a woman’s petticoat?
FEEBLE.
I will do my good will, sir, you can have no more.
FALSTAFF.
Well said, good woman’s tailor! Well said, courageous Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse. Prick the woman’s tailor: well, Master Shallow, deep, Master Shallow.
FEEBLE.
I would Wart might have gone, sir.
FALSTAFF.
I would thou wert a man’s tailor, that thou mightst mend him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private soldier that is the leader of so many thousands. Let that suffice, most forcible Feeble.
FEEBLE.
It shall suffice, sir.
FALSTAFF.
I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next?
SHALLOW.
Peter Bullcalf o’ th’ green!
FALSTAFF.
Yea, marry, let’s see Bullcalf.
BULLCALF.
Here, sir.