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 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 MRS. QUICKLY. Bard. Here comes ancient Pistol, and his wife :-good corporal, be patient here.-How now, mine host Pistol? Pist. Base tike,1 call'st thou me host? Now, by this hand I swear, I scorn the term; Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. 2 Quick. No, by my troth, not long. [NYM draws his sword.] O well-a-day, Lady, if he be not here. Now we shall see wilful murther committed. Good lieutenant BardolphBard. Good corporal, offer nothing here. Nym. Pish! Pist. Pish for thee, Iceland dog!3 thou prick-eared cur of Iceland. Quick. Good corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put up thy sword. Nym. Will you shog off? I would have you solus. [Sheathing his sword. Pist. Solus, egregious dog? O viper vile! The solus in thy most marvellous face; And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy;4 I do retort the solus in thy bowels. (1) Base tike. A tike is a kind of mongrel dog. (2) O, well-a-day, Lady. Lady is here used as an oath; the blessed virgin, our Lady, is here invoked. (3) Iceland dog! This is a term of great reproach. In the time when this play was written there was a belief that in Iceland there was a race of men with human bodies and dog's heads. (4) Perdy; i. e. par Dieu. This is an oath, even now, much used by the French. Nym. I am not Barbason,1 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 say, in fair terms. Pist. O braggard vile, and 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 stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier. [Draws. 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. Coupe le gorge, that's the word?—I defy thee again. O hound of Crete,2 think'st thou my spouse to get? No; 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 master3—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. Bard. Away, you rogue. Quick. 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 MRS. QUICK. and Boy. Bard. Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to France together. Why 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? Pist. Base is the slave that pays. 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. (1) Barbason is the name of a demon in "The Merry Wives of Windsor." (2) O hound of Crete; i. e. O thou blood-hound. Crete was famous for its blood-hounds. (3) My master. Falstaff is here intended, Bard. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends: an thou wilt not, why, then, be enemies with me too. Prithee, put up. Pist. A noble1 shalt thou have, and present pay; And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood: Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. 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 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 bumours 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. West. How smooth and even they do bear themselves! As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, Crowned with faith and constant loyalty. Bed. The king hath note of all that they intend, By interception which they dream not of. Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours,— That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell 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. My lord of Cambridge, and my kind lord of Masham, (1) A noble. This is a coin valued at 6s. 8d., or half a mark. And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts: For which we have in head assembled them? Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best. That grows not in a fair concent with ours; Cam. Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd Under the sweet shade of your government. Grey. True: those that were your father's enemies Have steep'd their galls in honey; and do serve you With hearts create of duty and of zeal. K. Hen. We therefore have great cause of thankfulness; And shall forget the office of our hand Sooner than quittance1 of desert and merit, According to the weight and worthiness. Scroop. So service shall with steeled sinews toil, And labour shall refresh itself with hope, To do your grace incessant services. 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. Grey. Sir, you show great mercy if you give him life, After the taste of much correction. K. Hen. Alas, your too much love and care of me Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch. If little faults, proceeding on distemper,3 Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye (1) And shall forget the office of our hand i. e. we shall sooner forget the use of our hand than forget to requite merit. (2) On his more advice; i. e. now that he is returned to more coolness of mind. (3) Distemper; i. e. sudden passion. 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 I, my royal sovereign. K. Hen. Then, Richard, earl of Cambridge, there is yours; We will aboard to-night.-Why, how now, gentlemen? Cam. I do confess my fault; And do submit me to your highness' mercy. Grey, Scroop. To which we all appeal. K. Hen. The mercy that was quick1 in us but late, You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy; As dogs upon their masters, worrying you. These English monsters! My lord of Cambridge here,- But O! (1) That was quick; i. e. was alive in us just now. |