How now, Pistol?

Pist.

Sir John; save you, Sir.

Fal.

What wind blew you hither, Pistol?

Pist.

Not the ill wind which blows no man good, sweet Knight: thou art now one of the greatest men in the realm.

Sil.

Indeed I think he be, but goodman Puff of Barson.

Pist.
Puff?
Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base!
Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend;
And helter skelter have I rode to thee;
And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys,
And golden times, and happy news of price.

Fal.
I pr'ythee now, deliver them like a man of this world.

Pist.
A foutra for the world and worldlings base!
I speak of Africa, and golden joys.

Fal.
O base Assyrian Knight, what is thy news?
Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.

Sil.
And Robin Hood, Scarlet and John.

Pist.
Shall dunghill curs confrout the Helicons?
And shall good news be baffled?
Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Fury's lap.

Shal.

Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding.

Pist.
Why then lament therefore.

Shal.

Give me pardon, Sir. If you come with news from the court, I take it there is but two ways, either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, Sir, under the King, in some authority.

Pist.
Under which King? Bezonian, speak or die.

Shal.

Under King Harry.

Pist.
Harry the Fourth? or Fifth?

Shal.

Harry the Fourth.

Pist.
A foutra for thine office!
Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is King,
Harry the Fifth's the man. I speak the truth.
When Pistol lies, do this, and fig me, like
The bragging Spaniard.

Fal.
What! is the old King dead?

Pist.
As nail in door: the things I speak are just.

Fal.

Away, Bardolph, saddle my horse; master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double charge thee with dignities.

Bard.

O joyful day! I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.

Pist.

What? I do bring good news?

Fal.

Carry master Silence to bed: master Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am fortune's steward. Get on thy boots, we'll ride all night. Oh, sweet Pistol! away Bardolph: come, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal devise something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, master Shallow. I know the young King is sick for me. Let us take any man's horses: the laws of England are at my commandment. Happy are they which have been my friends; and woe to my Lord Chief Justice!