Host. I am vndone with his going: I warrant he is an infinitiue thing vpon my score. Good M[aster]. Fang hold him sure: good M[aster]. Snare let him not scape, he comes continuantly to Py-Corner (sauing your manhoods) to buy a saddle, and hee is indited to dinner to the Lubbars head in Lombardstreet, to M[aster]. Smoothes the Silkman. I pra' ye, since my Exion is enter'd, and my Case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer: A 100. Marke is a long one, for a poore lone woman to beare: & I haue borne, and borne, and borne, and haue bin fub'd off, and fub'd-off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing, vnles a woman should be made an Asse and a Beast, to beare euery Knaues wrong. Enter Falstaffe and Bardolfe. Yonder he comes, and that arrant Malmesey-Nose Bardolfe with him. Do your Offices, do your offices: M[aster]. Fang, & M[aster]. Snare, do me, do me, do me your Offices Fal. How now? whose Mare's dead? what's the matter? Fang. Sir Iohn, I arrest you, at the suit of Mist. Quickly Falst. Away Varlets, draw Bardolfe: Cut me off the Villaines head: throw the Queane in the Channel Host. Throw me in the channell? Ile throw thee there. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue. Murder, murder, O thou Hony-suckle villaine, wilt thou kill Gods officers, and the Kings? O thou hony-seed Rogue, thou art a honyseed, a Man-queller, and a woman-queller Falst. Keep them off, Bardolfe Fang. A rescu, a rescu Host. Good people bring a rescu. Thou wilt not? thou wilt not? Do, do thou Rogue: Do thou Hempseed Page. Away you Scullion, you Rampallian, you Fustillirian: Ile tucke your Catastrophe. Enter Ch. Iustice. Iust. What's the matter? Keepe the Peace here, hoa Host. Good my Lord be good to mee. I beseech you stand to me Ch.Iust. How now sir Iohn? What are you brauling here? Doth this become your place, your time, and businesse? You should haue bene well on your way to Yorke. Stand from him Fellow; wherefore hang'st vpon him? Host. Oh my most worshipfull Lord, and't please your Grace, I am a poore widdow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit Ch.Iust. For what summe? Host. It is more then for some (my Lord) it is for all: all I haue, he hath eaten me out of house and home; hee hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his: but I will haue some of it out againe, or I will ride thee o' Nights, like the Mare Falst. I thinke I am as like to ride the Mare, if I haue any vantage of ground, to get vp