an the child I now go with do miscarry, thou wert better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced villain. O 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! If 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. I'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. Come, come, you she knight-errant, come. O God, that right should thus overcome might! Well, of sufferance comes ease. Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice. Ay, come, you starved blood-hound. Goodman death, goodman bones! Thou atomy, thou! Come, you thin thing; come you rascal. Very well. More rushes, more rushes. The trumpets have sounded twice. 'Twill be two o'clock ere they come from the coronation: dispatch, dispatch. Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow; I will make the king do you grace: I will leer upon him as a' comes by; and do but mark the countenance that he will give me. God bless thy lungs, good knight. Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. O, if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But 'tis no matter; this poor show doth better: this doth infer the zeal I had to see him. It doth so. It shows my earnestness of affection,-- It doth so. My devotion,-- It doth, it doth, it doth. As it were, to ride day and night; and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to shift me,-- It is best, certain. But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with desire to see him; thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him. 'Tis 'semper idem,' for 'obsque hoc nihil est:' 'tis all in every part. 'Tis so, indeed. My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver, And make thee rage. Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, Is in base durance and contagious prison; Haled thither By most mechanical and dirty hand: Rouse up revenge from ebon den with