FALSTAFF.
Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good trade; an old cloak makes
a new jerkin; a withered serving-man a fresh tapster. Go; adieu.

BARDOLPH.
It is a life that I have desired; I will thrive.

PISTOL.
O base Hungarian wight! Wilt thou the spigot wield?

[Exit BARDOLPH.]

NYM.
He was gotten in drink. Is not the humour conceited?

FALSTAFF.
I am glad I am so acquit of this tinder-box: his thefts were too open;
his filching was like an unskilful singer--he kept not time.

NYM.
The good humour is to steal at a minim's rest.

PISTOL.
'Convey' the wise it call. 'Steal!' foh! A fico for the phrase!

FALSTAFF.
Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels.

PISTOL.
Why, then, let kibes ensue.