SCENE III.
Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.
Bard.
On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach.
Nim.
'Pray thee, corporal, stay, 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.
Pist.
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.
Wou'd I were in an ale-house in London, I would give
all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.
-- 432 --
Pist.
* noteAnd I; if wishes would prevail,
I wou'd not stay, but thither would I hye.
Enter Fluellen.
Flu.
Up to the breach, you dogs; avaunt, you cullions.
Pist.
Be merciful, great Duke, to men of mould,
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage;
Good bawcock bate thy rage, use lenity sweet chuck.
Nim.
These be good humours; your honour wins bad humours.
[Exeunt.
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, could not be man to me; for indeed three such
antiques do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white liver'd
and red fac'd, by the means whereof he faces it out, but
fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword;
by the means whereof he breaks words, and keeps whole weapons.
For Nim, he hath heard that men of few words are the best
men, and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest he should
be thought a coward; but his few bad words are match'd with
as few good deeds, for he 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 sold it for three half-pence. Nim
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 mens
pockets as their gloves or their hand-kerchers; which makes
much against my manhood, for if I would take from another's
pocket to put into mine; it is plain pocketting 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 Boy.
-- 433 --
Enter Gower.
Gower.
Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the
mines; the Duke of Gloucester would speak with you.
Flu.
To the mines? tell you the Duke it is not so good to
come to the mines; for look you the mines are not 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 dig'd himself four yards under the countermines;
by Cheshu I think a will plow up all, if there is not petter directions.
Gower.
The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the
siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irish man, a very
valiant gentleman i'faith.
Flu.
It is captain Mackmorrice, is it not?
Gower.
I think it be.
Flu.
By Cheshu he is an Ass, as in the world; I will verifie
as much in his beard; he has no more directions in the true
disciplines of the wars, look you of the Roman disciplines, than
is a Puppy-dog.
Enter Mackmorris, and Captain Jamy.
Gower.
Here he comes, and the Scots captain, captain Jamy
with him.
Flu.
Captain Jamy is a marvellous valorous gentleman, that
is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in the ancient
wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions; by Cheshu
he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the
world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans.
Jamy.
I say gudday, captain Fluellen.
Flu.
Godden to your worship, good captain James.
Gower.
How now, captain Mackmorris, have you quitted the
mines? have the pioneers given o'er?
-- 434 --
Mack.
By Chrish law tish ill done; the work ish give over,
the trumpet sound the retreat. By my hand I swear, and by my
father's soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over; I would
have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me law, in an hour.
O tish ill done, tish ill done; by my hand tish ill done.
Flu.
Captain Mackmorrice, I beseech 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.
Jamy.
It sall be very gud, gud feith, gud captens bath, and
I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall
I marry.
Mack.
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
Duke; it is not time to discourse, the town is beseech'd; and
the trumpet calls 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, and works to be done, and there ish nothing done, so Chrish
sa' me law.
Jamy.
By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves
to slomber ayle do gud service, or aile ligge i'th' ground for it;
ay, or go to death; and Ile pay it as valorously as I may, that
sal I surely do, the breff and the long; marry, I wad full fain
heard some question 'tween you tway.
Flu.
Captain Mackmorrice, I think, look you, under your
correction, there is not many of your nation—
Mack.
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?
-- 435 --
Flu.
Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant,
captain Mackmorrice, peradventure I shall think you do not use
me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me,
look you, being as good a man as your self both in the disciplines
of wars, and in the derivation of my birth, and in other
particularities.
Mack.
I do not know you so good a man as my self, so Chrish
save me, I will cut off your head.
Gower.
Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.
Jamy.
A, that's a foul fault.
[A Parley sounded.
Gower.
The town sounds a parley.
Flu.
Captain Mackmorris, when there is more better opportunity
to be requir'd, look you, I'll be so bold as to tell you I
know the disciplines of war, and there's an end.
[Exeunt.
George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
