Act 5, Scene 4
London. A street.
Enter Beadles, dragging in HOSTESS QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEET.
Hostess
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, I warrant her: there hath been a man or two 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 go with do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced villain.
Hostess
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 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.
Hostess
O God, that right should thus overcome might! Well, of sufferance comes ease,
Doll Tearsheet
Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.
Hostess
Ay, come, you starved blood-hound.
Doll Tearsheet
Goodman death, goodman bones!
Hostess
Thou atomy, thou!
Doll Tearsheet
Come, you thin thing; come, you rascal.
First Beadle
Very well.