shall get one on his cheek; and yet he will not stick to say his face is
a face-royal: God may finish it when he will, 'tis not a hair amiss yet:
he may keep it still at a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn
sixpence out of it; and yet he'll be crowing as if he had writ man ever
since his father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he's
almost out of mine, I can assure him. What said Master Dombledon about
the satin for my short cloak and my slops?

PAGE.
He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph:
he would not take his band and yours; he liked not the security.

FALSTAFF.
Let him be damned, like the glutton! pray God his tongue be hotter!
A whoreson Achitophel! a rascally yea-forsooth knave! to bear a
gentleman in hand, and then stand upon security! The whoreson
smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of keys
at their girdles; and if a man is through with them in honest taking
up, then they must stand upon security. I had as lief they would
put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with security.
I looked 'a should have sent me two and twenty yards of satin, as I
am a true knight, and he sends me security. Well, he may sleep in
security; for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of
his wife shines through it: and yet cannot he see, though he have his
own lanthorn to light him. Where's Bardolph?

PAGE.
He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse.

FALSTAFF.