Act 2 - 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.
Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should
lay my countenance to pawn; I have grated upon my
friends for three reprieves for you and your
coach-fellow Nym; or else you had looked through
like a geminy of baboons. I am damned in
hell for swearing to gentlemen my friends, you were
soldiers and tall fellows; and when Mistress
Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I took't upon
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
me, I am no gibbet for you. Go. A short knife
and a throng! To your manor of Pickt-hatch! Go.
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
will ensconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain
looks, your red-lattice phrases, and your
beating oaths, under the shelter of your
honour! You will not do it, you!
I do relent: what would 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.
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