Fal. There is no remedy; I must cony-catch; I must shift.
Pist. Young ravens must have food.
Fal. Which of you know Ford of this town?
35 Pist. I ken the wight: he is of substance good.
Fal. My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about.
Pist. Two yards, and more.
Fal. No quips now, Pistol! Indeed, I am in the waist two yards about; but I am now about no waste; I am 40 about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford’s wife: I spy entertainment in her; she discourses, she [carves], she gives the leer of invitation: I can construe the action of her familiar style; and the hardest voice of her behaviour, to be Englished rightly, is, ‘I am Sir John Falstaff’s.’
45 Pist. He hath [studied her will], and [translated her will], out of honesty into English.
Nym. The [anchor] is deep: will that humour pass?
Fal. Now, the report goes she has all the rule of her husband’s purse: [he] hath of angels.