Doll Tearsheet

Drawer
Sir, Ancient Pistol’s below and would speak
with you.
Doll
Hang him, swaggering rascal! Let him not come
hither. It is the foul-mouthed’st rogue in England.

You may stroke him as gently as a puppy
greyhound. He’ll not swagger with a Barbary hen if
her feathers turn back in any show of resistance.—

Hostess
If he swagger,
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Pistol
God save you, Sir John.
Falstaff
Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I
charge you with a cup of sack. Do you discharge
upon mine hostess.
Pistol
I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.
Falstaff
She is pistol-proof. Sir, you shall not hardly
offend her.
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Doll
They say Poins has a good wit.
Falstaff
He a good wit? Hang him, baboon. His wit’s
as thick as Tewkesbury mustard. There’s no more
conceit in him than is in a mallet.

Is it not strange that desire should so
many years outlive performance?

Doll
Why does the Prince love him so then?
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