London. A Street.
 Enter BEADLES dragging in HOSTESS QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEET.

Quickly	No, thou arrant knave! I would to God that I might die, 
	that I might have thee hanged. Thou hast drawn my shoulder 
	out of joint.

1st Beadle	The constables have delivered her over to me, and she 
	shall have whipping-cheer, I warrant her. There hath been 
	a man or two lately killed about her.

Doll Tearsheet	Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie! Come on, I'll tell thee what, 
	thou damned tripe-visaged rascal, and the child I go with 
	do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy 
	mother, thou paper-faced villain.

Quickly	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!

1st 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 Tearsheet	I'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have 
	you as soundly swinged for this, you bluebottle rogue - 
	you filthy famished correctioner, if you be not swinged, 
	I'll forswear half-kirtles.

1st Beadle	Come, come, you she knight-errant, come!

Quickly	O God, that right should thus overcome might! Well, of 
	sufferance comes ease.

Doll Tearsheet	Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.

Quickly	Ay, come, you starved bloodhound.

Doll Tearsheet	Goodman death, goodman bones!

Quickly	Thou atomy, thou!

Doll Tearsheet	Come, you thin thing; come, you rascal!

1st Beadle	Very well.
													[Exeunt.
