Enter BEADLES, dragging in MISTRESS QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEET
No, thou arrant knave. I would to God that I might die, that
I might have thee hanged. Thou hast drawn my shoulder out
The Constables have delivered her over to me, and she shall
5have whipping cheer enough, I warrant her. There hath been
a man or two lately killed about her.
Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie! Come on, I ’ll tell thee what,
thou damned tripe-visaged rascal: an the child I now go with
do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother,
10thou paper-faced villain.
O the Lord, that Sir John were come! I would make this a
bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her
womb might miscarry.
If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; you have
15but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me, for the
man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst you.
I’ll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you
as soundly swinged for this, you bluebottle rogue, you filthy
famished correctioner. If you be not swinged, I’ll forswear
Come, come, you she knight-errant, come.