How now, lad? Is the wind in that door, i' faith? Must we all march? Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion. Host. My lord, I pray you hear me. Prince. What say'st thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy husband? I love him well; he is an honest man. Host. Good my lord, hear me. Fal. Prithee let her alone and list to me. Prince. What say'st thou, Jack? Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras and had my pocket pick'd. This house is turn'd bawdy house; they pick pockets. Prince. What didst thou lose, Jack? Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? Three or four bonds of forty pound apiece and a seal-ring of my grandfather's. Prince. A trifle, some eightpenny matter. Host. So I told him, my lord, and I said I heard your Grace say so; and, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is, and said he would cudgel you. Prince. What! he did not? Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune, nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox; and for woman-hood, Maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go! Host. Say, what thing? what thing? Fal. What thing? Why, a thing to thank God on. Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou shouldst know it! I am an honest man's wife, and, setting thy knight-hood aside, thou art a knave to call me so. Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise. Host. Say, what beast, thou knave, thou? Fal. What beast? Why, an otter. Prince. An otter, Sir John? Why an otter? Fal. Why, she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her. Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so. Thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave, thou! Prince. Thou say'st true, hostess, and he slanders thee most grossly. Host. So he doth you, my lord, and said this other day you ought him a thousand pound. Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? A million! Thy love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love. Host. Nay, my lord, he call'd you Jack and said he would cudgel you. Fal. Did I, Bardolph? Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so. Fal. Yea. if he said my ring was copper. Prince. I say, 'tis copper. Darest thou be as good as thy word now? Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare; but as thou art Prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp. Prince. And why not as the lion? Fal. The King himself is to be feared as the lion. Dost thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? Nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle break. Prince. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty in this bosom of thine. It is all fill'd up with guts and midriff.