Page. 
Sir, I thank you.

Shallow. 
Sir, I thank you; by yea and no, I do.

Page. 
I am glad to see you, good Master Slender.

Slender. 
How does your fallow greyhound, sir?  I heard say he was outrun on
Cotsall.

Page. 
It could not be judged, sir.

Slender. 
You’ll not confess, you’ll not confess.

Shallow. 
That he will not:  ’tis your fault; ’tis your fault.  ’Tis a good dog.

Page. 
A cur, sir.

Shallow. 
Sir, he’s a good dog, and a fair dog; can there be more said? he is
good, and fair.  Is Sir John Falstaff here?

Page. 
Sir, he is within; and I would I could do a good office
between you.

Evans. 
It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak.

Shallow. 
He hath wronged me, Master Page.

Page. 
Sir, he doth in some sort confess it.

Shallow. 
If it be confessed, it is not redressed:  is not that so, Master
Page?  He hath wronged me; indeed he hath;—­at a word, he hath,
—­believe me; Robert Shallow, esquire, saith he is wronged.

Page. 
Here comes Sir John.

[Enter sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, Nym, and pistol.]

Falstaff. 
Now, Master Shallow, you’ll complain of me to the King?

Shallow. 
Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer, and broke open my
lodge.

Falstaff. 
But not kiss’d your keeper’s daughter?

Shallow. 
Tut, a pin! this shall be answered.

Falstaff. 
I will answer it straight:  I have done all this.  That is now answered.

Shallow. 
The Council shall know this.

Falstaff. 
’Twere better for you if it were known in counsel:  you’ll be laughed
at.

Evans. 
Pauca verba, Sir John; goot worts.

Falstaff. 
Good worts! good cabbage!  Slender, I broke your head; what matter
have you against me?

Slender.  Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you; and against your cony-catching rascals, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol.  They carried me to the tavern, and made me drunk, and afterwards picked my pocket.

Bardolph. 
You Banbury cheese!

Slender. 
Ay, it is no matter.

Pistol. 
How now, Mephostophilus!

Slender. 
Ay, it is no matter.

Nym. 
Slice, I say! pauca, pauca; slice!  That’s my humour.

Slender. 
Where’s Simple, my man?  Can you tell, cousin?

Evans.  Peace, I pray you.  Now let us understand.  There is three umpires in this matter, as I understand:  that is—­Master Page, fidelicet Master Page; and there is myself, fidelicet myself; and the three party is, lastly and finally, mine host of the Garter.