Page.
Pist.
Save you, Sir John.
Fal.
Welcome, antient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge
you with a cup of sack: do you discharge upon mine
hostess.
Pist.
I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two
bullets.
Fal.
She is pistol proof, Sir, you shall hardly offend
her.
Host.
Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no bullets: I
will drink no more than will do me good, for no man's
pleasure, I.
Pist.
Then to you, Mistress Dorothy, I will charge
you.
Doll.
Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy companion!
what? you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen
mate; away, you mouldy rogue, away: I am meat for
your master.
Pist.
I know you, mistress Dorothy.
Doll.
Away, you cut-purse bottle-ale rascal, you basket-hilt
stale jugler you. Since when, I pray you, Sir?
Pist.
I will murder your head-gear for this.
[They fight.
Host.
No, good captain Pistol: not here, sweet captain.
Doll.
Captain! thou abominable damn'd cheater, art
thou not asham'd to be call'd captain? if captains were
of my mind, they would truncheon you out of taking
-- 28 --
their names upon you, before you have earn'd them.
You a captain! you slave! for what?
Bard.
Pray thee go down, good antient.
Pist.
Not I: I tell thee what, corporal Bardolph, I
could tear her: I'll be reveng'd on her.
Page.
Pray thee go down.
Pist.
I'll see her damn'd first, to Pluto's damned lake,
to the infernal deep, where Erebus and tortures vile also.
Hold hook and line, I say: down! down, dogs; down,
fates: have we not Hiren here?
Host.
Good captain Peesel, be quiet; it is very late: I
beseech you now, aggravate your choler.
Pist.
These be good humours, indeed. Shall packhorses
And hollow-pamper'd jades of Asia,
Which cannot go but thirty miles a day,
Compare with Cæsars, and with Cannibals,
And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus, and let the welkin roar:
Shall we fall foul for toys* note?
Host.
By my troth, captain, these are very bitter
words.
Bard.
Be gone, good ancient: this will grow to a
brawl, anon.
Pist.
Die men like dogs: give crowns like pins: have
we not Hiren here?
Host.
On my word, captain, there's none such here.
What the good-year? do you think I would deny her? I
pray be quiet.
Pist.
Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis; come,
give me some sack. Si fortuna me tormenta, sperato me
contenta.
Fear we broad sides? no, let the fiend give fire:
Give me some sack:
Fal.
Pistol, I would be quiet.
Pist.
Sweet knight, I kiss thy† note neif: what! we have
seen the seven stars.
-- 29 --
Doll.
Thrust him down stairs, I cannot endure such a
fustian rascal.
Pist.
Thrust him down stairs! know we not galloway
nags* note?
Fal.
Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat
shilling: nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he
shall be nothing here.
Bard.
Come, get you down stairs.
Pist.
What shall we have incision? shall we embrew?
then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days: why
then let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds, untwine the
sisters three: come, Atropos, I say.
[Drawing his sword.
Fal.
Give me my rapier, boy.
Doll.
I pr'ythee, Jack, I pr'ythee, do not draw.
Fal.
Get you down stairs.
[Drawing, and driving Pistol out.
A rascal! to brave me!
Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal, bragging slave! the
rogue fled from me, like quick-silver† note.
Doll.
I'faith, and thou follow'dst him like a church.
ah! Jack, Jack, when wilt thou leave fighting, and
patch up thine old body for heaven?
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
