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_ ACT V SCENE IV
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 hang'd. 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 kill'd about her.
DOLL.
Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come on; I'll tell thee what,
thou damn'd tripe-visag'd rascal, an the child I now go with
do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou
paper-fac'd villain.
HOSTESS.
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.
I'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you
as soundly swing'd for this--you blue-bottle rogue, you filthy
famish'd correctioner, if you be not swing'd, 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.
Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.
HOSTESS.
Ay, come, you starv'd bloodhound.
DOLL.
Goodman death, goodman bones!
HOSTESS.
Thou atomy, thou!
DOLL.
Come, you thin thing! come, you rascal!
FIRST BEADLE.
Very well.
[Exeunt.] _
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