SCENE II.
The Same.
Forces pass over; then enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.
Bard.
On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the
breach!
Nym.
Pray thee, corporal, stay: the knocks are too
hot; and for mine own part, I have not a case of
-- 503 --
lives6 note: 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; 11Q0668
And sword and shield,
In bloody field,
Doth win immortal fame.
Boy.
Would I were in an alehouse in London! I
would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety.
Pist.
And I:
If wishes would prevail with me,
My purpose should not fail with me,
But thither would I hie7 note.
Boy.
As duly, but not as truly, as bird doth sing
on bough.
Enter Fluellen.
Flu.
Up to the preach, you dogs! avaunt, you cullions!
[Driving them forward.
Pist.
Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould!
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage;
Abate thy rage, great duke!
Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck!
Nym.
These be good humours!—your honour wins
bad humours.
[Exeunt Nym, Pistol, and Bardolph, followed by Fluellen.
Boy.
As young as I am, I have observed 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 antics do not amount to
-- 504 --
a man, For Bardolph, he is white-livered, and red-faced;
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
sold it for three halfpence. 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 coals8 note. 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 pocket, to put into mine,
for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave
them, and seek some better service: their villainy goes
against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it
up.
[Exit Boy.
Re-enter Fluellen, Gower following.
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
good to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines is
not according to the disciplines of the war: the concavities
-- 505 --
of it is not sufficient; for, look you, th' athversary
(you may discuss unto the duke, look you) is digged
himself four yards under the countermines. By Cheshu,
I think, 'a will plow up all, if there is not better 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 Macmorris, is it not?
Gow.
I think it be.
Flu.
By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world. 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 Macmorris and Jamy, at a distance.
Gower.
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
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, gude day, captain Fluellen.
Flu.
God-den to your worship, goot captain James.
Gower.
How now, captain Macmorris! 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 Macmorris, I peseech you now will you
vouchsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you,
-- 506 --
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 gude, gude feith, gude captains
bath: and I sall quit you9 note with gude leve, as I may pick
occasion; that sall I, marry.
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 beseeched, 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, la.
Jamy.
By the mess, ere these eyes of mine take
themselves to slumber, aile do gude service, or aile
lig i' the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and aile
pay it as valorously as I may, that sal I surely do, that
is the breif and the long. Marry, I wad full fain heard
some question 'tween you tway.
Flu.
Captain Macmorris, 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 Macmorris, 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 wars,
and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.
-- 507 --
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.
Jamy.
Au! that's a foul fault.
[A Parley sounded.
Gow.
The town sounds a parley.
Flu.
Captain Macmorris, when there is more better
opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold
as to tell you, I know the disciplines of wars; and there
is an end.
[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].
