V. 125 A tis the hart, the hart doth all: I
Haue seene the day, with my two hand sword
I would a made you foure tall Fencers
Scipped like Rattes.
Host. Here boyes, shall we wag, shall we wag?
Shal. Ha with you mine host.
Exit Host and Shallow.
Pa. Come M. Ford, shall we to dinner?
I know these fellowes sticks in your minde.
For. No in good sadnesse, not in mine: