SCENE I
London. A street.Enter Corporal NYM and Lieutenant 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; 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 end.
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 (21)
did you wrong; for you were troth-plight to her.
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 mare, yet she will
plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I cannot
tell. Enter PISTOL and Hostess.
Bard.
Here comes Ancient Pistol and his
wife: good corporal, be patient here. How (30)
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.
Host.
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 and Pistol
draw.] O well a day, Lady, if he be not
drawn now! we shall see wilful adultery and (40)
murder committed.
Bard.
Good lieutenant! good corporal!
offer nothing here.
Nym.
Pish!
Pist.
Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou
prick-ear'd cur of Iceland!
Host.
Good Corporal Nym, show thy
valor, and put up your sword.
Nym.
Will you shog off? I would have
you solus.
Pist.
'Solus,' egregious dog? O viper vile! (50)
The 'solus' in thy most mervailous face;
The 'solus' in thy teeth, and in thy throat,
And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy,
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 Barbason; you cannot
conjure me. I have an humor 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 humor of it.
Pist.
O braggart vile and damned furious wight!
The grave doth gape, and doting death is near;
Therefore exhale.
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. (70)
Pist.
An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate.
Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give:
Thy spirits are most tall.
Nym.
I will cut thy throat, one time or
other, in fair terms: that is the humor of it.
Pist.
'Couple a gorge!'
That is the word. I thee defy again.
O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get?
No; to the spital go,
And from the powdering tub of infamy (80)
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind,
Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse:
I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly
For the only she; and--pauca, there's enough.
Go to. Enter the Boy.
Boy.
Mine host Pistol, you must come to
my master, and you, 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. (90)
Bard.
Away, you rogue!
Host.
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 Hostess 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? (100)
Pist.
Base is the slave that pays.
Nym.
That now I will have: that's the
humor of it.
Pist.
As manhood shall compound: push home. [They draw.
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. Prithee, put up.
Nym.
I shall have my eight shillings I won (111)
of you at betting?
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? (120)
Pist.
In cash most justly paid.
Nym.
Well, then, that's the humor of 't. Re-enter Hostess.
Host.
As ever you came 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 humors on
the knight; that's the even of it.
Pist.
Nym, thou hast spoke the right; (130)
His heart is fracted and corroborate.
Nym.
The king is a good king: but it must
be as it may; he passes some humors
and careers.
Pist.
Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we will live.
