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 bawdyhouse straight. [NYM draws his sword.] O well-a-day, Lady, if he be not drawn now! O Lord! here's corporal Nym's-now shall we have wilful adultery and murder committed. Good lieutenant Bardolph, -good corporal, offer nothing here. Nym. Pish! Pist. Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prickeared cur of Iceland! Quick. Good corporal Nym, show the valour of a man, and put up thy sword. Nym. Will you shog off? I would have you solus. Pist. Solus, egregious dog? O viper vile! The solus in thy most marvellous face; The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat, [Sheathing his sword. And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy;* For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up, Nym. I am not Barbason;† you cannot conjure me. I have a 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 braggard 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 [Draws. stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier. 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 humour of it. Pist. Coup le gorge, that's 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 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, Par Dieu! Breathe your last. + The name of a demon. put thy nose between his sheets, and do the office of a warmingpan: '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 kill'd his heart.-Good husband, come home [Exeunt Mrs. QUICKLY and Boy. presently. 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? Nym. That now I will have; that's the humour of it. 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, and 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 betting. And liquor likewise will I give to thee, 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 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 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. SCENE II.-Southampton. A council-chamber. Enter EXETER, BEDFORD, and WESTMORELAND. Bed. 'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these traitors. Exe. They shall be apprehended by-and-by. * A coin, in value six shillings and eight pence. West. How smooth and even they do bear themselves! Bed. The king hath note of all that they intend, Eze. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, His sovereign's life to death and treachery ! Trumpet sounds. Enter KING HENRY, SCROOP, CAMBRIDGE, GREY, Lords, and Attendants. K. Hen. Now, sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. For which we have in head assembled them? Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best. We carry not a heart with us from hence, Cam. Never was monarch better fear'd and loved, Under the sweet shade of your government. Grey. Even those that were your father's enemies, K. Hen. We therefore have great cause of thankfulness; Scroop. So service shall with steeled sinews toil; K. Hen. We judge no less.-Uncle of Exeter, Scroop. That's mercy, but too much security: Cam. So may your highness, and yet punish too. After the taste of much correction. * Force. + Compounded. * Coming to his senses. K. Hen. Alas, your too much love and care of me Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch. Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye, Appear before us?-We'll yet enlarge that man, Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey,-in their dear care, Would have him punish'd. And now to our French causes; Cam. I one, my lord; Your highness bade me ask for it to-day. Grey. And me, my royal sovereign. K. Hen. Then, Richard, earl of Cambridge, there is yours; – There yours, lord Scroop, of Masham ;-and, Sir knight, Cam. I do confess my fault; K. Hen. The mercy, that was quick in us but late, Disorder from wine. + Lately appointed. ‡ Living. That might annoy my finger? 'tis so strange,* Eze. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard earl of Cambridge. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Henry lord Scroop. of Masham. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, knight of Northumberland. |