University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Before Quickly's House in Eastcheap.
Enter Corp. Nim, and Lieut. Bardolph, Meeting.
Bard.

Well met, Corporal Nim.

Nim.

Good-morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.

Bard.

What, are ancient Pistol and you friends,
yet?

Nim.

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 Nim.

Nim.

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.

Nim.

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 tir'd mare,

yet she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well,
I cannot tell.

Enter Pistol and Quickly.
Bard.

Here comes ancient Pistol and his wife.
Good corporal, be patient here. How now, mine
host Pistol?

Pist.

Base tyke, call'st thou me host? Now by this
hand, I swear I scorn the term; nor shall my Nell
keep lodgers.

Quick.

O, welladay lady, if he be not drawn! Now,
we shall see wilful adultery, and murder committed.

Bard.

Good ancient, good corporal, offer nothing
here.

Nim.

Pish.

Pist.

Pish for thee, Iceland dog; thou prick-ear'd
cur of Iceland.

Quick.

Good corporal Nim, shew thy valour, and
put up thy sword.

Nim.
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,
I do retort the solus in thy bowels;

Nim.

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, and that's the
humour of it.

Pist.
O, braggart vile, and damned furious wight,
Think'st thou my spouse to get?
I have, and I will hold, the Quondam Quickly,
For th'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 nose 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 kill'd his heart.
Good husband, come home, presently.

[Exeunt Quick. 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.

Nim.

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

Pist.

Base is the slave that pays.

Nim.

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

Pist.

As manhood shall compound, push home.

[Draws.
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 Nim, an thou wilt be friends, be
friends; an thou wilt not, why then be enemies with
me, too; pr'ythee put up.

Pist.
A noble shalt thou have, and present pay,
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
For I shall sutler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.

Nim.
I shall have my noble?

Pist.
In cash most justly paid.

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

Enter Quickly.
Quick.

As ever you came of women, come in quickly
to Sir John. Ah, poor heart, he is so shak'd of a

burning quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to
behold. Sweet men, come to him.

[Exit.
Nim.

The King hath run bad humours on the knight,
that's the even of it.

Pist.

Nim, thou hast spoke the right, his heart is
fracted and corroborate.

Nim.

The King is a good King, but it must be as
may; he passes some humours and careers.

Pist.

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

[Exeunt.