Fal.

When Arthur first in court—fill a cup of sack —and was a worthy King: how now, Mrs. Doll?

Host.

Sick of a calm: yea, good sooth.

Fal.

So is all her sex, if they be once in a calm, they are sick.

Doll.

You muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me?

Fal.

You make fat rascals, Mrs. Doll.

Doll.

I make them! gluttony and diseases make them, I make them not.

Fal.

If the cook make the gluttony, you help to make the diseases, Doll; we catch of you, Doll, we catch of you; grant that, my poor virtue, grant that.

Doll.

Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself!

Host.

By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never meet, but you fall to some discord; you are both, in good troth, as rheumatick as two dry toasts, you cannot one bear with another's confirmities. What the good-year? one must bear, and that must be you: you are the weaker vessel, as they say, the emptier vessel.

Doll.

Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead? there's a whole merchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a hulk better stuft in the hold. Come, I'll be friends with thee, Jack: thou art going to the wars, and whether I shall ever see thee again or no, there is nobody cares.

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