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London. A street.
[Enter Beadles, dragging in HOSTESS
QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEET]
MISTRESS QUICKLY No, thou arrant knave;
I would to God that I might die, that I might have
thee hanged: thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint.
First Beadle The constables have delivered her over to me;
and she shall have whipping-cheer enough, I warrant
her: there hath been a man or two lately killed about her.
DOLL TEARSHEET 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, thou paper-faced villain.
MISTRESS QUICKLY O the Lord, that Sir John were come!
he would make this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray
God the fruit of her womb miscarry!
First Beadle If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions
again; you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both
go with me; for the man is dead that you and Pistol beat
amongst you.
DOLL TEARSHEET I’ll tell you what, you thin man in a
censer, I will have you as soundly swinged for this,–you
blue-bottle rogue, you filthy famished correctioner, if you
be not swinged, I’ll forswear half-kirtles.
First Beadle Come, come, you she knight-errant, come.
MISTRESS QUICKLY O God, that right should
thus overcome might! Well, of sufferance comes ease.
DOLL TEARSHEET Come, you rogue, come;
bring me to a justice.
MISTRESS QUICKLY Ay, come, you starved blood-hound.
DOLL TEARSHEET Goodman death, goodman bones!
MISTRESS QUICKLY Thou atomy, thou!
DOLL TEARSHEET Come,
you thin thing; come you rascal.
First Beadle Very well.