London. Eastcheap. | |
| |
Enter NYM and BARDOLPH. | |
| Bard. Well met, Corporal Nym. | |
| Nym. Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph. | 4 |
| Bard. What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet? | |
| Nym. For my part, I care not: I say little; but when time shall serve, there shall be smiles; but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight; but I will wink and hold out mine iron. It is a simple one; but what though? it will toast cheese, and it will endure cold as another man’s sword will: and there’s an end. | |
| Bard. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends, and we’ll be all three sworn brothers to France: let it be so, good Corporal Nym. | |
| Nym. Faith, I will live so long as I may, that’s the certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, I will do as I may: that is my rest, that is the rendezvous of it. | 8 |
| Bard. It is certain, corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly; and, certainly she did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her. | |
| Nym. I cannot tell; things must be as they may: men may sleep, and they may have their throats about them at that time; and, some say, knives have edges. It must be as it may: though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I cannot tell. | |
| |
Enter PISTOL and Hostess. | |
| Bard. Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife. Good corporal, be patient here. How now, mine host Pistol! | 12 |
| Pist. Base tike, call’st thou me host? | |
| Now, by this hand, I swear, I scorn the term; | |
| Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. | |
| Host. No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house straight. [NYM and PISTOL draw.] O well-a-day, Lady! if he be not drawn now: we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed. | 16 |
| Bard. Good lieutenant! good corporal! offer nothing here. | |
| Nym. Pish! | |
| Pist. Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-eared cur of Iceland! | |
| Host. Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour and put up your sword. | 20 |
| Nym. Will you shog off? I would have you solus. [Sheathing his sword. | |
| Pist. Solus, egregious dog? O viper vile! | |
| The solus in thy most mervailous face; | |
| The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat, | 24 |
| And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy; | |
| And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth! | |
| I do retort the solus in thy bowels; | |
| For I can take, and Pistol’s cock is up, | 28 |
| And flashing fire will follow. | |
| Nym. I am not Barbason; you cannot conjure me. I have an humour to knock you indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms: if you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little, in good terms, as I may; and that’s the humour of it. | |
| Pist. O braggart vile and damned furious wight! | |
| The grave doth gape, and doting death is near; | 32 |
| Therefore exhale. | |
| Bard. Hear me, hear me what I say: he that strikes the first stroke, I’ll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier. [Draws. | |
| Pist. An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate. | |
| Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give; | 36 |
| Thy spirits are most tall. | |
| Nym. I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair terms; that is the humour of it. | |
| Pist. Coupe le gorge! | |
| That is the word. I thee defy again. | 40 |
| O hound of Crete, think’st thou my spouse to get? | |
| No; to the spital go, | |
| And from the powdering-tub of infamy | |
| Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid’s kind, | 44 |
| Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse: | |
| I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly | |
| For the only she; and—pauca, there’s enough. | |
| Go to. | 48 |
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Enter the Boy. | |
| Boy. Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, and your hostess: he is very sick, and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy face between his sheets and do the office of a warming-pan. Faith, he’s very ill. | |
| Bard. Away, you rogue! | |
| Host. By my troth, he’ll yield the crow a pudding one of these days. The king has killed his heart. Good husband, come home presently. [Exeunt Hostess and Boy. | 52 |
| Bard. Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to France together. Why the devil should we keep knives to cut one another’s throats? | |
| Pist. Let floods o’erswell, and fiends for food howl on! | |
| Nym. You’ll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting? | |
| Pist. Base is the slave that pays. | 56 |
| Nym. That now I will have; that’s the humour of it. | |
| Pist. As manhood shall compound: push home. [They draw. | |
| Bard. By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I’ll kill him; by this sword, I will. | |
| Pist. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course. | 60 |
| Bard. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends: an thou wilt not, why then, be enemies with me too. Prithee, put up. | |
| Nym. I shall have my eight shillings I won of you at betting? | |
| Pist. A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; | |
| And liquor likewise will I give to thee, | 64 |
| And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood: | |
| I’ll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me. | |
| Is not this just? for I shall sutler be | |
| Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. | 68 |
| Give me thy hand. | |
| Nym. I shall have my noble? | |
| Pist. In cash most justly paid. [Paying him. | |
| Nym. Well then, that’s the humour of it. | 72 |
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Re-enter Hostess. | |
| Host. As ever you came of women, come in quickly to Sir John. Ah, poor heart! he is so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him. | |
| Nym. The king hath run bad humours on the knight; that’s the even of it. | |
| Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right; | 76 |
| His heart is fracted and corroborate. | |
| Nym. The king is a good king: but it must be as it may; he passes some humours and careers. | |
| Pist. Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we will live. [Exeunt. | |
