Bardolph.
Bard.
Well met, corporal Nym.
Nym.
Good morrow, lieutenant Bardolph8 note
.
Bard.
What, are ancient Pistol and you friends
yet?
-- 295 --
Nym.
For my part, I care not: I say little; but
when time shall serve, there shall be smiles9 note
;—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 the humour of it1 note.
Bard.
I will bestow a breakfast, to make you
friends; and we'll be all three sworn brothers to
France2 note
; let it be so, good corporal Nym.
-- 296 --
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 may3 note: that is my rest4 note, that
is the rendezvous of it.
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 mare5 note
, yet she will plod. There must be conclusions.
Well, I cannot tell.
Enter Pistol and Mrs. Quickly.
Bard.
Here comes ancient Pistol, and his wife:—
good corporal, be patient here.—How now, mine
host Pistol?
Pist.
Base tike6 note
, call'st thou me—host?
-- 297 --
Now, by this hand I swear, I scorn the term;
Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.
Quick.
No, by my troth, not long: for we cannot
lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentle
women, that live honestly by the prick of their
needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-house
straight. [Nym draws his sword.] O Lord!
here's corporal Nym's7 note
—now shall we have wilful
-- 298 --
adultery and murder committed. Good lieutenant
Bardolph8 note,—good corporal, offer nothing here.
-- 299 --
Nym.
Pish!
Pist.
Pish for thee, Iceland dog9 note
! thou prick-eared
cur1 note
of Iceland!
-- 300 --
Quick.
Good corporal Nym, show the valour of
a man, and put up thy sword.
Nym.
Will you shog off2 note
? I would have you
solus.
[Sheathing his sword.
Pist.
Solus, egregious dog? O viper vile!
The solus in thy most marvellous face;
The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat,
And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy3 note
;
-- 301 --
And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth4 note
!
I do retort the solus in thy bowels:
For I can take5 note
, and Pistol's cock is up,
And flashing fire will follow.
Nym.
I am not Barbason; you cannot conjure
me6 note. 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 braggard vile, and damned furious wight!
The grave doth gape, and doting death is near7 note;
Therefore exhale8 note
.
[Pistol and Nym draw.
-- 302 --
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;
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's the word?—I thee defy again.
O hound of Crete9 note
, 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 kind1 note
,
Doll Tear-sheet she by name, and her espouse:
I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly
For the only she; and—Pauca, there's enough2 note.
-- 303 --
Enter the Boy.
Boy.
Mine host Pistol, you must come to my
master,—and you, hostess3 note;—he is very sick, and
would to bed.—Good Bardolph, put thy nose between
his sheets, and do the office of a warming-pan:
'faith, he's very ill.
Bard.
Away, you rogue.
Quick.
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 Mrs. Quickly and Boy.
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 pays4 note
.
Nym.
That now I will have; that's the humour
of it.
Pist.
As manhood shall compound; Push home.
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.
Bard.
Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends,
be friends: an thou wilt not, why then be enemies
with me too. Pr'ythee, put up.
-- 304 --
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,
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.
Give me thy hand.
Nym.
I shall have my noble?
Pist.
In cash most justly paid.
Nym.
Well then, that's the humour of it.
Re-enter Mrs. Quickly.
Quick.
As ever you came of women, come in
quickly to sir John: Ah, poor heart! he is so
shaked5 note
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;
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 live6 note
.
[Exeunt.
-- 305 --
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].
