Gower.
Gow.
Nay, that's right; but why wear you your
leek to-day? Saint Davy's day is past.
Flu.
There is occasions and causes why and
wherefore in all things: I will tell you, as my friend,
captain Gower; The rascally, scald, beggarly, lowsy,
-- 459 --
pragging knave, Pistol,—which you and yourself,
and all the 'orld, know to be no petter than a fellow,
look you now, of no merits,—he is come to me,
and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you,
and bid me eat my leek: it was in a place where I
could not breed no contentions with him; but I
will be so pold as to wear it in my cap till I see
him once again, and then I will tell him a little
piece of my desires.
Enter Pistol.
Gow.
Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
Flu.
'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his
turkey-cocks.—Got pless you, ancient Pistol! you
scurvy, lowsy knave, Got pless you!
Pist.
Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan,
To have me fold up Parca's fatal web4 note?
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
Flu.
I peseech you heartily, scurvy lowsy knave,
at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions,
to eat, look you, this leek; because, look you, you
do not love it, nor your affections, and your appetites,
and your digestions, does not agree with it, I
would desire you to eat it.
Pist.
Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats.
Flu.
There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.]
Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it?
Pist.
Base Trojan, thou shalt die.
Flu.
You say very true, scald knave, when Got's
will is: I will desire you to live in the mean time,
and eat your victuals: come, there is sauce for it.
[Striking him again.] You called me yesterday,
mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a
-- 460 --
squire of low degree5 note
. I pray you, fall to; if you
can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.
Gow.
Enough, captain; you have astonished
him6 note
.
Flu.
I say, I will make him eat some part of my
leek, or I will peat his pate four days:—Pite, I pray
you; it is goot for your green wound, and your
ploody coxcomb.
Pist.
Must I bite?
Flu.
Yes, certainly; and out of doubt, and out
of questions too, and ambiguities.
Pist.
By this leek, I will most horribly revenge;
I eat, and eke I swear—7 note
.
Flu.
Eat, I pray you: Will you have some more
sauce to your leek? there is not enough leek to
swear by.
-- 461 --
Pist.
Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see, I eat.
Flu.
Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily.
Nay, 'pray you, throw none away; the skin is goot
for your proken coxcomb. When you take occasions
to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at
them; that is all.
Pist.
Good.
Flu.
Ay, leeks is goot:—Hold you, there is a
groat to heal your pate.
Pist.
Me a groat!
Flu.
Yes, verily, and in truth, you shall take it;
or I have another leek in my pocket, which you
shall eat.
Pist.
I take thy groat, in earnest of revenge.
Flu.
If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in
cudgels; you shall be a woodmonger, and buy
nothing of me but cudgels. God be wi' you, and
keep you, and heal your pate.
[Exit.
Pist.
All hell shall stir for this.
Gow.
Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly
knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition,—
begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a
memorable trophy of predeceased valour,—and dare
not avouch in your deeds any of your words? I
have seen you gleeking8 note
and galling at this gentleman
twice or thrice. You thought, because he
could not speak English in the native garb, he
could not therefore handle an English cudgel: you
find it otherwise; and, henceforth, let a Welsh
correction teach you a good English condition9 note.
Fare ye well.
[Exit.
-- 462 --
Pist.
Doth fortune play the huswife1 note with me now?
News have I, that my Nell is dead2 note
i'the spital
Of malady of France;
And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.
Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs
Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd will I turn,
And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand.
To England will I steal, and there I'll steal:
And patches will I get unto these scars,
And swear, I got them in the Gallia wars.
[Exit3 note.
-- 463 --
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
