Fal.

A challenge!—By the Lord, and it is a challenge. I am call'd upon here to meet him at single rapier. Hoo! what a turluru! In the name of common-sense is the fool turn'd madman? What means the simple tony by this? To get his money again? Does he think by running me thro' the pericardium to become my heir at law? The fearful stag is at bay, and become desperate. But let me see—what's to be done here? I am in person too much of a knight to engage with so little a 'squire.—I have it.— Bardolph, I being your master and a knight, thou art by the laws of chivalry no less than a 'squire. Now, as I take it, this quarrel is properly thine: thou must meet justice Shallow at single rapier.

Bar.

I, Sir John. He has no quarrel against me. The challenge is given to your honour.

Fal.

True, but I tell thee my honour disdains to encounter a pitiful 'squire: thou must take my sword and fight him.

Bar.

I shall only disgrace your arms, Sir John.

Fal.

Go to, you will do well. He knows nothing of the sword; and should he challenge thee at pistols, put a charge into each barrel, and present thy nose at him: he will never stand thy fire.

Bar.

Indeed, Sir John I must be excus'd. I never could fight in my life, unless there was something to be got by it; for a booty on the highway, or so.

Fal.

Why 'tis for a thousand pound, you rogue.

Bar.

And where's the money?

Fal.

At my cashier's.

Bar.

Well then, Sir John, why should we fight for it?

Fal.

Bardolph, thou art a coward; but no matter. I have a thought: I will meet him myself. See that my buckler be well lin'd that I fought with at Shrewsbury.