Bardolph

Well met, Corporal Nym.

Nym

Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.

Bardolph

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.

Bardolph

I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and we'll be all three sworn brothers to France: let't 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.

Bardolph

It is certain, corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly: and certainly she 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.

Bardolph

Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife: good corporal, be patient here. How now, mine host Pistol!

Pistol

Base tike, call'st thou me host?

Now, by this hand, I swear, I scorn the term;

Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.

Hostess

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. O welliday, Lady, if he be not hewn now! we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed.

Bardolph

Good lieutenant! good corporal! offer nothing here.

Nym

Pish!

Pistol

Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-eared cur of Iceland!

Hostess

Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put up your sword.

Nym

Will you shog off? I would have you solus.

Pistol

“Solus,” egregious dog? O viper vile!

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 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.

Pistol

O braggart vile and damned furious wight!

The grave doth gape, and doting death is near;

Therefore exhale.

Bardolph

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.

Pistol

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.

Pistol

“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

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 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.

Bardolph

Away, you rogue!

Hostess

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.

Bardolph

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?

Pistol

Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl on!

Nym

You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting?

Pistol

Base is the slave that pays.

Nym

That now I will have: that's the humour of it.

Pistol

As manhood shall compound: push home. They draw.

Bardolph

By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I'll kill him; by this sword, I will.

Pistol

Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.

Bardolph

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 of you at betting?

Pistol

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?

Pistol

In cash most justly paid.

Nym

Well, then, that's the humour of't.

Hostess

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.

Pistol

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.

Pistol

Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we will live.