Gow.

Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.

Flu.

'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. —Heaven pless you, ancient Pistol! you scurvy, lowsy knave, Heaven pless you!

Pist.
Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan,
To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?^{1 note}
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. [Crosses to L.H.

Flu.

I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lowsy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek: because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections, and your appetites, and your digestions, does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.

Pist. (crosses to R.H.)
Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.

Flu.
There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.
Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it?

Pist.
Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

Flu.

You say very true, scald knave, when Heaven's will is: I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals: come, there is sauce for it. (Striking him again.) You called me yesterday mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a squire of low degree.^{2 note}; I pray you, fall to: if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.

Gow.

Enough, captain: you have astonished him.^{3 note}

Flu.

I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days.—Pite, I pray you; it is goot for you.

Pist.

Must I bite?

Flu.

Yes, certainly, and out of doubt, and out of questions too, and ambiguities.

Pist.

By this leek, I will most horribly revenge: I eat, and eke I swear—

Flu.

Eat, I pray you: Will you have some more sauce to your leek? there is not enough leek to swear by.

Pist.

Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat.

Flu.

Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, 'pray you, throw none away; the skin is goot for your proken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at them; that is all.

Pist.

Good.

Flu.

Ay, leeks is goot:—Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate.

Pist.

Me a groat!

Flu.

Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take it; or I have another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat.

Pist.

I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.

Flu.

If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in cudgels. Heaven be wi' you, and keep you, and heal your pate.

Pist. (crosses to L.H.)

All hell shall stir for this.

Gow.

Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition,—begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour,—and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking^{4 note} and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could not therefore handle an English cudgel: you find it otherwise; and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition.^{5 note} Fare ye well.

Pist.
Doth fortune play the huswife^{6 note} with me now?
Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs
Honour is cudgell'd.
To England will I steal:
And patches will I get unto these scars,
And swear, I got them in the Gallia wars. [Exit, R.H.

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