Bard.

Here comes antient Pistol and his wife; good corporal, be patient here. How now, mine host Pistol?

Pist.

Base tyke, call'st thou me host? now by this hand, I swear, I scorn the term; nor shall my Nel keep lodgers.

Quick.

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. O welliday lady, if he be not drawn!(14) ^note

Bard.

Good lieutenant, good corporal, offer nothing here.

Nim.

Pish!—

Pist.

Pish for thee, Island dog; thou prick-ear'd cur of Island.

Quick.

Good corporal Nim, shew thy valour and put up thy sword.

Nim.

Will you shog off? I would have you solus.

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, 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,
And flashing fire will follow.

Nim.

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 braggard vile, and damned furious wight!
The grave doth gape, and doating death is near;
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.

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.

Nim.

I will cut thy throat one time or other in fair terms, that is the humour of it.

Pist.
Coupe a gorge, that is the word. I defie thee again.
O hound of Creet, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No, to the spittle go,
And from the powd'ring tub of infamy
Fetch forth the lazar Kite of Cressid's kind,
Dol Tear-sheet, she by name, and her espouse.

I have, and I will hold the Quondam Quickly
For th' only she; and pauca, there's enough; go to. 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 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 kill'd his heart. Good husband, come home presently.

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!—

Nim.

You'll pay me the eight shillings, I won of you at betting?

Pist.

Base is the slave, that pays.

Nim.

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 Nim, an thou wilt be friends, be friends; an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me too; pr'ythee, put up.

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 Nim, and Nim shall live by me.
Is not this just? for I shall Suttler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.

Nim.

I shall have my noble?

Pist.

In cash most justly paid.

Nim.

Well then, that's the humour of't.

Re-enter Quickly.

Quick.

As ever you came of women, come in quickly to Sir John: ah, poor heart, he is so shak'd of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him.

Nim.

The King hath run bad humours on the Knight, that's the even of it.

Pist.

Nim, thou hast spoken the right, his heart is fracted and corroborate.

Nim.

The King is a good King, but it must be as it may; he passes some humours and carreers.

Pist.

Let us condole the Knight; for, lambkins! we will live.