| London. A street. 
 Enter BEADLES, dragging in HOSTESS QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEET 
    MISTRESS QUICKLYNo, 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.
 
    FIRST BEADLEThe constables have delivered her over to me; and she shall have whipping-cheer enough, I warrant her: there hath been a man or two lately killed about her.
 
    DOLL TEARSHEETNut-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, thou paper-faced villain.
 
    MISTRESS QUICKLYO 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!
 
    FIRST BEADLEIf 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 TEARSHEETI’ll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I will have you as soundly swinged for this,—you blue-bottle rogue, you filthy famished correctioner, if you be not swinged, I’ll forswear half-kirtles.
 
    FIRST BEADLECome, come, you she knight-errant, come.
 
    MISTRESS QUICKLYO God, that right should thus overcome might!
 Well, of sufferance comes ease.
 
    DOLL TEARSHEETCome, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.
 
    MISTRESS QUICKLYAy, come, you starved blood-hound.
 
    DOLL TEARSHEETGoodman death, goodman bones!
 
    MISTRESS QUICKLYThou atomy, thou!
 
    DOLL TEARSHEETCome, you thin thing; come you rascal.
 
    FIRST BEADLEVery well.
 
 [Exeunt |