ACT II.
4. SCENE IV. London. The Boar's-head Tavern in Eastcheap.
(continued)
DOLL.
For God's sake, thrust him down stairs: I cannot endure such a
fustian rascal.
PISTOL.
Thrust him down stairs! know we not Galloway nags?
FALSTAFF.
Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling:
nay, an a' do nothing but speak nothing, a' shall be nothing
here.
BARDOLPH.
Come, get you down stairs.
PISTOL.
What! shall we have incision? shall we imbrue?
[Snatching up his sword.]
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!
Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!
HOSTESS.
Here's goodly stuff toward!
FALSTAFF.
Give me my rapier, boy.
DOLL.
I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.
FALSTAFF.
Get you down stairs.
[Drawing, and driving Pistol out.]
HOSTESS.
Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house, afore
I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant now.
Alas, alas! put up your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons.
[Exeunt Pistol and Bardolph.]
DOLL.
I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. Ah, you whoreson
little valiant villain, you!
HOSTESS.
Are you not hurt i' the groin? methought a' made a shrewd
thrust at your belly.
[Re-enter Bardolph.]
FALSTAFF.
Have you turned him out o' doors?
BARDOLPH.
Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have hurt him, sir, i'
the shoulder.
FALSTAFF.
A rascal! to brave me!
|