Boy.
Bar.
On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach!
Nym.
Pray thee, lieutenant, note stay;14Q0744 the knocks are
too hot; and, for mine own part, I have not a case of
lives: the humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain-song
of it.
Pis.
The plain-song is most just: for humours do abound;
Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die;
And sword, and shield,
In bloody field,
Doth win immortal fame.
Boy.
'Would, I were in an ale-house in London! I
would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety.
Pis.
And I:
If wishes would prevail with me,
My purpose should not fail with me,
But thither would I hie.
Boy.
As duly, (but not as truly) as bird doth sing
on bough.
-- 40 --
Enter Fluellen.
Flu.
Got's plud!—Up to the preaches you rascals! note
will you not up to the preaches?
[driving them forward with his Partizan.
Pis.
Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould!
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage!
Good bawcock, bate thy rage! use lenity, sweet chuck!14Q0745
Nym.
These be good humours!—your honour wins
bad humours.
[Exeunt Nym, Pistol, and Bardolph, driven in by Fluellen.
Boy.
As young as I am, I have observ'd these three
swashers. I am boy to them all three: but all they three,
though they would serve me, eould note not be man to me;
for, indeed, three such anticks do not amount to a man.
For Bardolph,—he is white-liver'd, and red-fac'd; by
the means whereof, a' faces it out, but fights not. For
Pistol,—he hath a killing tongue, and a quiet sword;
by the means whereof, a' breaks words, and keeps whole
weapons. For Nym,—he hath heard, that men of few
words are the best men; and therefore he scorns to say
his prayers, lest a' should be thought a coward: but
his few bad words are match'd with as few good deeds;
for a' never broke any man's head, but his own; and
that was against a post, when he was drunk. They will
steal any thing, and call it—purchase. Bardolph stole
a lute-case; bore it twelve leagues, and note sold it for three
half-pence. Nym, and Bardolph, are sworn brothers in
filching; and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel: I knew,
by that piece of service, the men would carry coals.
They would have me as familiar with men's pockets,
as their gloves, or their handkerchiefs: which makes
much against my manhood, if I should take from another's
-- 41 --
pocket, to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing
up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some
better service: their villany goes against my weak stomach,
and therefore I must cast it up.
[Exit.
Re-enter Fluellen; to him Gower.
Gow.
Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to
the mines; the duke of Gloster would speak with
you.
Flu.
To the mines! tell you the duke, it is not so
goot to come to the mines: For, look you, the mines
is not note according to the disciplines of the war; the concavities
of it is not sufficient; for, look you, th' athversary
(you may discuss unto the duke, look you) is digt
himself four yards note under the countermines: by Cheshu,
I think a' will plow up all, if there is not petter directions.
Gow.
The duke of Gloster, to whom the order of the
siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman;
a very valiant gentleman, i' faith.
Flu.
It is captain Mac-morris, is it not?
Gow.
I think, it be.
Flu.
By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the 'orld; I will
verify as much in his peard: he has no more directions
in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the
Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.
Enter Mac-morris, and Jamy, at a Distance.
Gow.
Here a' comes; and the Scots captain, captain
Jamy, with him.
Flu.
Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman,
that is certain; and of great expedition, and
knowledge, in the ancient wars, upon my particular
-- 42 --
knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu, he will maintain
his argument as well as any military man in the
'orld, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans.
Jam.
I say, gud-day, captain Fluellen.
Flu.
God-den to your worship, goot captain Jamy note.
Gow.
How now, captain Mac-morris? have you quit
the mines? have the pioneers given o'er?
Mac.
By Chrish, la, tish ill done; the work ish give
over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By my hand, I
swear, and my father's soul, the work ish ill done; it
ish give over: I would have blowed up the town, so
Chrish save me, la, in an hour. O, tish ill done, tish ill
done; by my hand, tish ill done!
Flu.
Captain Mac-morris, I peseech you now, will
you vouchsafe me, look you, a few disputations with
you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines
of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument,
look you, and friendly communication; partly, to satisfy
my opinion, and, partly, for the satisfaction, look
you, of my mind, as touching the direction of the military
discipline; that is the point.
Jam.
It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captains
bath: and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick
occasion; that sall I, mary.
Mac.
It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me:
the day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the
king, and the dukes; it is no time to discourse. The
town is beseech'd, and the trumpet call us to the
breach; and we talk, and (by Chrish) do nothing; 'tis
shame for us all: so God sa'me, 'tis shame to stand still;
it is shame, by my hand: and there is throats to be cut,
-- 43 --
and works to be done; and there ish nothing done, so
Chrish sa'me, la.
Jam.
By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves
to slumber, ayle do gud service, or ayle lig i'th'
grund for it; ay, or go to death; and ayle pay't as
valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, that is the
breff and the long: Mary, I wad full fain heard some
question 'tween you tway.
Flu.
Captain Mac-morris, I think, look you, under
your correction, there is not many of your nation—
Mac.
Of my nation? What ish my nation? ish a
villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal?—
What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation?
Flu.
Look you, if you take the matter otherwise
than is meant, captain Mac-morris, peradventure, I shall
think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion
you ought to use me, look you; being as goot a
man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war, and in
the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.
Mac.
I do not know you so good a man as myself:
so Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.
Gow.
Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.
Jam.
Au! that's a foul fault.
[Parley sounded.
Gow.
The town sounds a parley.
Flu.
Captain Mac-morris, when there is more petter
opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so pold
as to tell you, I know the disciplines of war; and there
is an end.
[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].
