Past and to come seems best; things present, worst. MOWBRAY. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on? HASTINGS. We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone. Exeunt <<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> ACT II. SCENE I. London. A street Enter HOSTESS with two officers, FANG and SNARE HOSTESS. Master Fang, have you ent'red the action? FANG. It is ent'red. HOSTESS. Where's your yeoman? Is't a lusty yeoman? Will 'a stand to't? FANG. Sirrah, where's Snare? HOSTESS. O Lord, ay! good Master Snare. SNARE. Here, here. FANG. Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff. HOSTESS. Yea, good Master Snare; I have ent'red him and all. SNARE. It may chance cost some of our lives, for he will stab. HOSTESS. Alas the day! take heed of him; he stabb'd me in mine own house, and that most beastly. In good faith, 'a cares not what mischief he does, if his weapon be out; he will foin like any devil; he will spare neither man, woman, nor child. FANG. If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust. HOSTESS. No, nor I neither; I'll be at your elbow. FANG. An I but fist him once; an 'a come but within my vice! HOSTESS. I am undone by his going; I warrant you, he's an infinitive thing upon my score. Good Master Fang, hold him sure. Good Master Snare, let him not scape. 'A comes continuantly to Pie-corner--saving your manhoods--to buy a saddle; and he is indited to dinner to the Lubber's Head in Lumbert Street, to Master Smooth's the silkman. I pray you, since my exion is ent'red, and my case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long one for a poor lone woman to bear; and I have borne, and borne, and borne; and have been fubb'd off, and fubb'd off, and fubb'd off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing; unless a woman should be made an ass and a beast, to bear every knave's wrong. Enter SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, PAGE, and BARDOLPH