Bardolph.
Bard.
Well met, corporal Nym.
Nym.
Good morrow, lieutenant Bardolph.
Bard.
What, are ancient Pistol and you friends yet?
Nym.
For my part, I care not: I say little; but
when time shall serve, there shall be smiles; 11Q0661—but
that shall be as it may. I dare not fight; but I will
wink, and hold out mine iron. It is a simple one; but
what though? it will toast cheese, and it will endure
cold as another man's sword will; and there's an end3 note.
Bard.
I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends,
and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France: let it
be so, good corporal Nym.
Nym.
'Faith, I will live so long as I may, that's the
certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, I
will do as I may: that is my rest, that is the rendezvous
of it.
Bard.
It is certain, corporal, that he is married to
Nell Quickly; and, certainly, she did you wrong, for
you were troth-plight to her.
-- 483 --
Nym.
I cannot tell; things must be as they may:
men may sleep, and they may have their throats about
them at that time, and some say knives have edges. It
must be as it may: though patience be a tired mare4 note,
yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well,
I cannot tell.
Enter Pistol and Mrs. Quickly.
Bard.
Here comes ancient Pistol, and his wife.—
Good corporal, be patient here.—How now, mine host
Pistol?
Pist.
Base tike, call'st thou me host?
Now, by this hand I swear, I scorn the term;
Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.
Quick.
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
draws his sword.] O well-a-day, lady! if he be not
hewn now!—we shall see wilful adultery and murder
committed.
Bard.
Good lieutenant—good corporal, offer nothing
here5 note.
Nym.
Pish!
Pist.
Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-eared
cur of Iceland!
Quick.
Good corporal Nym, show thy valour, and
put up your sword.
Nym.
Will you shog off? I would have you solus.
[Sheathing his sword.
Pist.
Solus, egregious dog? O viper vile!
The solus in thy most marvellous face;
The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat,
-- 484 --
And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy5 note;
And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth!
I do retort the solus in thy bowels:
For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up,
And flashing fire will follow.
Nym.
I am not Barbason7 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.
Pist.
O braggart vile, and damned furious wight!
The grave doth gape, and doting death is near;
Therefore exhale.
[Pistol and Nym draw.
Bard.
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.
[Draws.
Pist.
An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate.
Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give;
Thy spirits are most tall8 note.
Nym.
I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair
terms; that is the humour of it.
Pist.
Coupe le gorge, that's the word?—I defy thee again.
O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No; to the spital go,
And from the powdering tub of infamy
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind9 note,
-- 485 --
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 enough10 note.
Enter the Boy.
Boy.
Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master,
and your hostess. — He is very sick, and would to
bed.—Good Bardolph, put thy face between his sheets,
and do the office of a warming-pan: 'faith, he's very ill.
Bard.
Away, you rogue.
Quick.
By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pudding
one of these days: the king has killed his heart.—
Good husband, come home presently.
[Exeunt Mrs. Quickly and Boy.
Bard.
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?
Pist.
Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl on!
Nym.
You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you
at betting?
Pist.
Base is the slave that pays.
Nym.
That now I will have; that's the humour of it.
Pist.
As manhood shall compound. Push home.
[Draws.
Bard.
By this sword, he that makes the first thrust,
I'll kill him; by this sword, I will.
Pist.
Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.
Bard.
Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be
friends: an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with
me too. Pr'ythee, put up.
[Nym.
I shall have my eight shillings, I won of you
at betting1 note?]
-- 486 --
Pist.
A noble shalt thou have, and present pay;
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood:
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?
Pist.
In cash most justly paid.
Nym.
Well then, that's the humour of it.
Re-enter Mrs. Quickly.
Quick.
As ever you come of women, come in quickly
to sir John. Ah, poor heart! he is so shaked 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.
Pist.
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.
Pist.
Let us condole the knight, for lambkins we
will live.
[Exeunt.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
