How now, Pistol?

Pist.
Sir John, save you, Sir.

Fal.
What wind blew you hither, Pistol?

Pist.
Not the ill wind which blows no man good, sweet
Knight: thou art now one of the greatest men in the realm.

Sil.
Indeed I think he be, but goodman Puff of Barson.

Pist.
Puff?
Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base!
Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend;
And helter skelter have I rode to thee;
And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys,
And golden times, and happy news of price.

Fal.
I pr'ythee now deliver them like a man of this world.

Pist.
A footra for the world and worldlings base,
I speak of Africa and golden joys.

Fal.
O base Assyrian Knight, what is thy news?
Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.

Sil.
And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and John.

Pist.
Shall dunghil curs confront the Helicons?
And shall good news be baffled?
Then Pistol lay thy head in fury's lap.

Shal.
Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding.

Pist.
Why then lament therefore.

Shal.

Give me pardon, Sir. If you come with news from the court, I take it there is but two ways, either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, Sir, under the King, in some authority.

Pist.
Under which King? Bezonian, speak or die.

Shal.
Under King Harry.

Pist.
Harry the Fourth? or Fifth?

Shal.
Harry the Fourth.

Pist.
A footra for thine office.
Sir John, thy tender Lamb-kin now is King,
Harry the Fifth's the man. I speak the truth.
When Pistol lies, do this, and fig me like
The bragging Spaniard.

Fal.
What, is the old King dead?

Pist.
As nail in door: the things I speak are just.

Fal.

Away Bardolph, saddle my horse. Master Robert Shallow, chuse what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double charge thee with dignities.

Bard.

O joyful day! I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.

Pist.

What? I do bring good news?

Fal.

Carry master Silence to bed: master Shallow, my lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am Fortune's steward. Get on thy boots, we'll ride all night. Oh, sweet Pistol! away Bardolph: come, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal devise something to do thy self good. Boot, boot, master Shallow. I know the young King is sick for me. Let us take any man's horses: the

laws of England are at my commandment. Happy are they which have been my friends; and wo to my Lord Chief Justice.

Pist.
Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also:
Where is the life that late I led, say they?
Why here it is, welcome this pleasant day. [Exeunt.

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