Act 5
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Enter BEADLES, dragging in MISTRESS QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEET
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BEADLESbeadles = parish officers BEADLES enter, dragging DOLL TEARSHEET and MISTRESS QUICKLY. |
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MISTRESS 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.
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MISTRESS QUICKLY
No, you horrible rogue! I wish to God I were dead, so I could have you hanged. You dislocated my shoulder!
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FIRST BEADLE
The Constables have delivered her over to me, and she shall
5have whipping cheer enough, I warrant her. There hath been
a man or two lately killed about her.
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FIRST BEADLE
The street cops handed her over to me, and she’ll be whipped through and through, I promise. She’s been involved in a couple of murders.
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DOLL TEARSHEET
Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie! Come on, I ’ll tell thee what,
thou damned tripe-visaged rascal: an the child I now go with
do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother,
10thou paper-faced villain.
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DOLL TEARSHEET
Pig, Pig! You lie! Come on! I’ll tell you what, you damned flabby-faced moron: if I have a miscarriage now, you’ll wish you’d hit your own mother, you pasty-faced villain!
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MISTRESS QUICKLY
O the Lord, that Sir John were come! I would make this a
bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her
womb might miscarry.
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MISTRESS QUICKLY
Oh God, I wish Sir John would come! He’d make somebody bleed for this. I pray to God that she has a miscarriage!
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FIRST BEADLE
If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; you have
15but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me, for the
man is dead that you and Pistol beat amongst you.
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FIRST BEADLE
Well, if she does, you’ll have twelve cushions on your couch again. You have only eleven now, since she’s wearing one of them under her dress. I order both of you to come with me: the man that you two and Pistol beat up is dead.
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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
20half-kirtles.
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DOLL TEARSHEET
I’ll tell you what, you stick-figure; I’ll have you beaten soundly for this. You blue-coated rogue, you filthy, starving correctioner! If you aren’t walloped for this, I’ll swear off skirts.
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FIRST BEADLE
Come, come, you she knight-errant, come.
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FIRST BEADLE
Come on, come on, you little night sinner, come on.
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