Hostess.
Bar.
Here comes ancient Pistol, and his wife:—
good corporal, be patient here.—How now, mine host
Pistol?
Pis.
Base tike, call'st thou me—host?
Now, by this hand I swear, I scorn the term;
Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.
Hos.
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. [Nym, and
Pistol, eye one another, and draw.] O wel-a-day, lady,
if he be not drawn now note! we shall see wilful adultery
and murther committed.
Bar.
Good ancient,—good corporal note,—offer nothing
here.
[going between them.
Nym.
Pish!
Pis.
Pish for thee, Iseland dog; thou prick-ear'd cur of Iseland.
Hos.
Good corporal Nym, shew the valour note of a man,
-- 21 --
and put up your sword.
Nym.
Will you shog off? I would have you solus.
Pis.
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 talk; and note Pistol's cock is up,
And flashing fire will follow.
Nym.
I am not Barbason note; 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.
Pis.
O braggard vile, and damned furious wight!
The grave doth gape, and doting death is near;
Therefore exhale.
Bar.
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.
Pis.
An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate.—
Give me thy fist, [to Nym.] thy fore-foot to me give;
Thy spirits are most tall.
Nym.
I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair
terms; that is the humour of it.
Pis.
Coupe le gorge note,14Q0734 that's the word?—I thee defy again note.
O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No; to the spital go,
And from the powd'ring tub of infamy
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind,
-- 22 --
Doll Tear-sheet she by name, and her espouse:
I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly
For the only she; and—Pauca, there's enough. note
Enter the Boy.
Boy.
Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master,—
and you hostess note; note—he is very sick, and would to bed.—
Good Bardolph, put thy face note between his sheets, and
do the office of a warming-pan: 'faith, he's very ill.
Bar.
Away, you rogue.
Hos.
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.
[Ex. Hostess, and Boy.
Bar.
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?
Pis.
Let floods o'er-swell, and fiends for food howl on!
Nym.
You'll pay me the eight shillings, I won of you
at betting?
Pis.
Base is the slave that pays.
Nym.
That now I will have; that's the humour of it.
Pis.
As manhood shall compound; Push home.
Bar.
By this sword, he that makes the first thrust,
I'll kill him; by this sword, I will.
Pis.
Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.
Bar.
Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be
friends: an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with
me too: Pry'thee, put up.
Nym.
I shall note have my eight shillings, I won of you
at betting?
Pis.
A noble shalt thou have, and present pay;
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood:
-- 23 --
I'll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me;—
Is not this just?—for I shall sutler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.
Nym.
I shall have my noble?
Pis.
In cash most justly pay'd.
Nym.
Well then, that's the note humour of it.
Re-enter Hostess.
Hos.
As ever you came of note 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.
Nym.
The king hath run bad humours on the knight,
that's the even of it.
Pis.
Nym, thou hast spoke the right;
His heart is fracted, and corroborate.
Nym.
The king is a good king: but it must be as
it may; he passes some humours, and careers.
Pis.
Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we will live.
[Exeunt.
Edward Capell [1767], Mr William Shakespeare his comedies, histories, and tragedies, set out by himself in quarto, or by the Players his Fellows in folio, and now faithfully republish'd from those Editions in ten Volumes octavo; with an introduction: Whereunto will be added, in some other Volumes, notes, critical and explanatory, and a Body of Various Readings entire (Printed by Dryden Leach, for J. and R. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S10601].
