1 First my fear; then my courtesy; last my speech. 2 My fear is, your displeasure; my courtesy, my duty; 3 and my speech, to beg your pardons. If you look 4 for a good speech now, you undo me: for what I have 5 to say is of mine own making; and what indeed I 6 should say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. 7 But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be it 8 known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here 9 in the end of a displeasing play, to pray your 10 patience for it and to promise you a better. I 11 meant indeed to pay you with this; which, if like an 12 ill venture it come unluckily home, I break, and 13 you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here I promised you 14 I would be and here I commit my body to your 15 mercies: bate me some and I will pay you some and, 16 as most debtors do, promise you infinitely. 17 If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will 18 you command me to use my legs? and yet that were but 19 light payment, to dance out of your debt. But a 20 good conscience will make any possible satisfaction, 21 and so would I. All the gentlewomen here have 22 forgiven me: if the gentlemen will not, then the 23 gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which 24 was never seen before in such an assembly. 25 One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too 26 much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will 27 continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make 28 you merry with fair Katharine of France: where, for 29 any thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, 30 unless already a' be killed with your hard 31 opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is 32 not the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs are 33 too, I will bid you good night: and so kneel down 34 before you; but, indeed, to pray for the queen.