Fal. No quips now Pistoll: (Indeede I am in the waste
two yards about: but I am now about no waste: I am about
thrift) briefely: I doe meane to make loue to Fords
wife: I spie entertainment in her: shee discourses: shee
carues: she giues the leere of inuitation: I can construe
the action of her familier stile, & the hardest voice of her
behauior (to be english'd rightly) is, I am Sir Iohn Falstafs

Pist. He hath studied her will; and translated her will:
out of honesty, into English

Ni. The Anchor is deepe: will that humor passe?
Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of her
husbands Purse: he hath a legend of Angels

Pist. As many diuels entertaine: and to her Boy say I

Ni. The humor rises: it is good: humor me the angels

Fal. I haue writ me here a letter to her: & here another
to Pages wife, who euen now gaue mee good eyes
too; examind my parts with most iudicious illiads: sometimes
the beame of her view, guilded my foote: sometimes
my portly belly

Pist. Then did the Sun on dung-hill shine

Ni. I thanke thee for that humour