SCENE 2. A room in the Garter Inn.
[Enter FALSTAFF and PISTOL.]
I will not lend thee a penny.
Why then, the world's mine oyster,
Which I with sword will open.
I will retort the sum in equipage.
Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should
lay my countenance to pawn; I have grated upon my good
friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow,
Nym; or else you had looked through the grate, like a
geminy of baboons. I am damned in hell for swearing to
gentlemen my friends you were good soldiers and tall fellows;
and when Mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan,
I took 't upon mine honour thou hadst it not.
Didst not thou share? Hadst thou not fifteen pence?
Reason, you rogue, reason. Thinkest thou I'll
endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no more about me,
I am no gibbet for you: go: a short knife and a throng!--
to your manor of Picht-hatch! go. You'll not bear a letter
for me, you rogue!--you stand upon your honour!--Why,
thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to
keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, I myself
sometimes, leaving the fear of God on the left hand, and hiding
mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge,
and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags,
your cat-a-mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, and
your bold-beating oaths, under the shelter of your honour!
You will not do it, you!
I do relent; what wouldst thou more of man?
Sir, here's a woman would speak with you.
Let her approach.
[Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY.]
Give your worship good morrow.
Good morrow, good wife.