DOL. I PRAY, JACK, I PRAY THEE, DO NOT DRAW. FAL. GET YOU DOWN STAIRS Drawing & driving Pistol out. London, Published by F. C&J. Rivington, and Partners, Feb 1823. Dol. Thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure such a fustian rascal. Pist. Thrust him down stairs! know we not Galloway nags &? Fal. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling: nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here. Bard. Come, get you down stairs. Pist. What brue? shall we have incision? shall we im [Snatching up his sword. Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days! Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds Untwine the sisters three! Come, Atropos, I say! Host. Here's goodly stuff toward! Fal. Give me my rapier, boy. Dol. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw. [Drawing, and driving PISTOL out. Host. Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping house, afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So; murder, I warrant now. Alas, alas! put up your weapons, put up your naked weapons. naked [Exeunt PISTOL and BARDOLPH. thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal is gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you. Dol. I pray Host. Are you not hurt i'the groin? methought, he made a shrewd thrust at your belly. Re-enter BARDOLPH. Fal. Have you turned him out of doors? Bard. Yes, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have hurt him, sir, in the shoulder. Fal. A rascal! to brave me! Galloway nags?] That is, common hacknies. 9like a shove-groat shilling:] Perhaps a piece of polished metal made use of in the play of shovel-board. Slide-thrift, or shovegroat, is one of the games prohibited by statute 33 Henry VIII. c. 9. Dol. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! Alas, poor ape, how thou sweat'st! Come, let me wipe thy face; come on, you whoreson chops: - Ah, rogue! i'faith, I love thee. Thou art as valourous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than the nine worthies. Ah, villain! Fal. A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket. Dol. Do, if thou darest for thy heart: if thou dost, I'll canvas thee between a pair of sheets. Enter Musick. Page. The musick is come, sir. Fal. Let them play; - Play, sirs. - Sit on my knee, Doll. A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from me like quicksilver. Dol. I'faith, and thou followedst him like a church. Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting o'days, and foining o'nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven? Enter behind, Prince HENRY and POINs, disguised like Drawers. Fal. Peace, good Doll! do not speak like a death's head; do not bid me remember mine end. Dol. Sirrah, what humour is the prince of? Fal. A good shallow young fellow he would have made a good pantler, he would have chipped bread well. Dol. They say, Poins has a good wit. Fal. He a good wit? hang him, baboon! his wit is as thick as Tewksbury mustard; there is no more conceit in him, than is in a mallet. Dol. Why does the prince love him so then? Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness: and he plays at quoits well; and eats conger and fennel; and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons; and rides the wild mare with the boys; and jumps upon jointstools; and swears with a good grace; and wears his boot very smooth, like unto the sign of the leg; and breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories, and such other gambol faculties he hath, that show a weak mind and an able body, for the which the prince admits him: for the prince himself is such another; the weight of a hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois. P. Hen. Would not this nave of a wheel1 have his ears cut off? Poins. Let's beat him before his whore. P. Hen. Look, if the withered elder hath not his poll clawed like a parrot. Poins. Is it not strange, that desire should so many years outlive performance? Fal. Kiss me, Doll. P. Hen. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what says the almanack to that? Poins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon 2, his man, be not lisping to his master's old tables; his notebook, his counsel-keeper. Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses. Dol. Nay, truly; I kiss thee with a most constant heart. Fal. I am old, I am old. Dol. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of them all. Fal. What stuff wilt have a kirtle of3 ? I shall receive nave of a wheel —] Nave and knave are easily reconciled, but why nave of a wheel? I suppose from his roundness. He was called round man, in contempt, before. JOHNSON. 2 the fiery trigon, &c.] trigonum igneum is the astronomical term when the upper planets meet in a fiery sign. 3 —a kirtle of?] A woman's kirtle, or rather, upper kirtle, (as distinguished from a petticoat, which was sometimes called a kirtle,) was a long mantle which reached to the ground, with a head to it that entirely covered the face; and it was, perhaps, usually red. |