Nym. Pish! Pist. Pish for thee, Iceland dog!1 thou prick-eared cur of Iceland! Quick. Good corporal Nym, show the valor of a man, 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; The solus in thy teeth, and in thy throat, And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy; For I can take,2 and Pistol's cock is up, And flashing fire will follow. 3 Nym. I am not Barbason; you cannot conjure me. I have a humor 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, may; and that's the humor of it. I The Therefore exhale. as Pist. O, braggard vile, and damned furious wight! grave doth gape, and doting death is near; [PISTOL and NYм 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. 1 "Iceland dogges, curled and rough all over, which, by reason of the length of their heare, make show neither of face nor of body. And yet thes curres, forsoothe, because they are so strange, are greatly set by, esteemed, taken up, and made of, many times instead of the spaniell gentle or comforter." Abraham Fleming's translation of Caius de Canibus, 1576, Of English Dogges.--Island cur is again used as a term of contempt in Epigrams served out in Fifty-two several Dishes;" no date :— 66 "He wears a gown lac'd round, laid down with furre, Or, miser-like, a pouch where never man Could thrust his finger, but this island curre.” 2 For I can take." Malone would change this, without necessity, to "I can talk." Pistol only means, "I can understand or comprehend you." 3 Barbason is the name of a demon mentioned in The Merry Wives of Windsor. Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give, Nym. I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair terms; that is the humor of it. Pist. Coupe 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 Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind,1 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, 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 killed his heart.Good husband, come home presently. [Exeunt MRS. QUICKLY 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! 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 humor of it. Pist. As manhood shall compound; push home. Bard. By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I'll kill him; by this sword, I will. 1 "The lazar kite of Cressid's kind." Of Cressida's nature, see Troilus and Cressida. Pist. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course. Bard. Corporal Nym, an 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? Pist. A noble1 shalt thou have, and present pay; And liquor likewise will I give to thee, 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 humor 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 humors 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 t may; he passes some humors, and careers. Pist. Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins, we will live. [Exeunt. 1 The noble was worth six shillings and eight-pence. 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. As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, 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,1 Whom he hath cloyed and graced with princely favors, That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell 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, 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. 1 "That was his bedfellow." Thus Holinshed:-"The said lord Scroop was in such favor with the king, that he admitted him sometimes to be his bedfellow." This familiar appellation of bedfellow was common among the ancient nobility. This custom, which now appears so strange and unseemly to us, continued to the middle of the seventeenth century, if not later. Cromwell obtained much of his intelligence during the civil wars from the mean men with whom he slept. 2 "Whom he hath cloyed and graced." The quarto reads, " dulled and cloyed." K. Hen. I doubt not that; since we are well per suaded, We carry not a heart with us from hence, Cam. Never was monarch better feared, and loved, Than is your majesty; there's not, I think, a subject, That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness Under the sweet shade of your government. Grey. Even those, that were your father's enemies, Have steeped 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 quittance of desert and merit, 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. 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 winked at, how shall we stretch our eye, 1 "Consent" is accord, agreement. 2 i. e. his better consideration, or more circumspect behavior. |