So you doe, Hostesse
Host. Doe I? yea, in very truth doe I, if it were an Aspen
Leafe: I cannot abide Swaggerers.
Enter Pistol, and Bardolph and his Boy.
Pist. 'Saue you, Sir Iohn
Falst. Welcome Ancient Pistol. Here (Pistol) I charge
you with a Cup of Sacke: doe you discharge vpon mine
Hostesse
Pist. I will discharge vpon her (Sir Iohn) with two
Bullets
Falst. She is Pistoll-proofe (Sir) you shall hardly offend
her
Host. Come, Ile drinke no Proofes, nor no Bullets: I
will drinke no more then will doe me good, for no mans
pleasure, I
Pist. Then to you (Mistris Dorothie) I will charge
you
Dol. Charge me? I scorne you (scuruie Companion)
what? you poore, base, rascally, cheating, lacke-Linnen-Mate:
away you mouldie Rogue, away; I am meat for
your Master
Pist. I know you, Mistris Dorothie
Dol. Away you Cut-purse Rascall, you filthy Bung,
away: By this Wine, Ile thrust my Knife in your mouldie
Chappes, if you play the sawcie Cuttle with me. Away
you Bottle-Ale Rascall, you Basket-hilt stale Iugler, you.
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