Rugby.
Shal.
It appears so, by his weapons: keep them asunder:
here comes Doctor Caius.
Page.
Nay, good Mr. Parson, keep in your weapon.
Shal.
So do you, good Mr. Doctor.
Host.
Disarm them, and let them question; let
them keep their limbs whole, and hack our English.
Caius.
I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your
ear: wherefore vill you not meet-a me?
Eva.
Pray you, use your patience in good time.
Caius.
By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog,
John ape.
Eva.
Pray you, let us not be laughing-stocks to
other mens humours: I desire you in friendship, and
will one way or other make you amends; I will knog
your urinal about your knave's cogs-comb 2 notefor missing
your meetings and appointments.
Caius.
Diable! Jack Rugby, mine Host de Jartere,
have I not stay for him, to kill him? have I not, at
de place I did appoint?
Eva.
As I am a christian's soul, now look you,
this is the place appointed; I'll be judgment by mine
Host of the Garter.
Host.
Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and
Welch, soul-curer and body-curer.
Caius.
Ay, dat is very good, excellent.
Host.
Peace, I say; hear mine Host of the Garter.
Am I politick? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? shall
I lose my Doctor? no; he gives me the potions and
the motions. Shall I lose my Parson? my Priest?
my Sir Hugh? no; he gives me the proverbs and
the no verbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so:
-- 298 --
Give me thy hand, celestial; so. Boys of art, I have
deceiv'd you both: I have directed you to wrong
places: your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole,
and let burn'd sack be the issue. Come, lay their
swords to pawn. Follow me, lads of peace, follow,
follow, follow.
Shal.
Trust me, a mad host. Follow, gentlemen,
follow.
Slen.
O, sweet Anne Page?
[Exeunt Shal. Slen. Page and Host.
Caius.
Ha! do I perceive dat? have you make
a-de-sot of us, ha, ha?
Eva.
This is well, he has made us his vlouting-stog.
I desire you, that we may be friends; and let
us knog our prains together to be revenge on this
same scald-scurvy-cogging companion, the Host of the
Garter.
Caius.
By gar, with all my heart; he promise to
bring me where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me
too.
Eva.
Well, I will smite his noddles; pray you,
follow.
[Exeunt.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
