Fal. Reason you rogue, reason.
Doest thou thinke Ile indanger my soule gratis?
In briefe, hang no more about mee, I am no gybit for you. [A ]short knife and a throng to your manner of pickt hatch, goe. Youle not 15 beare a Letter for me you rogue you: you stand vpon your honor. Why thou vnconfinable basenesse thou, tis as much as I can do to keepe the termes of my honor precise. I, I my selfe sometimes, leauing the feare of God on the left hand, am faine to shuffel, to filch and to lurch. And yet you stand vpon your honor, you rogue. You, 20 you.
Pis. I do recant: what woulst thou more of man?
Fal. Well, gotoo, away, no more.
Enter Mistresse Quickly.
Quic. Good you god den sir.
Fal. Good den faire wife.
VI. 25 Quic. Not so ant like your worship.
Fal. Faire mayd then.