Now all the youth of England are on fire,

And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies.

Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thought

Reigns solely in the breast of every man.

They sell the pasture now to buy the horse,

Following the mirror of all Christian kings,

With winged heels, as English Mercuries.

For now sits Expectation in the air,

And hides a sword from hilts unto the point

With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets,

Promis’d to Harry and his followers.

The French, advis’d by good intelligence

Of this most dreadful preparation,

Shake in their fear, and with pale policy

Seek to divert the English purposes.

O England! model to thy inward greatness,

Like little body with a mighty heart,

What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,

Were all thy children kind and natural!

But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out

A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills

With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men,

One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the second,

Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third,

Sir Thomas Grey, knight of Northumberland,

Have, for the gilt of France,—O guilt indeed!—

Confirm’d conspiracy with fearful France;

And by their hands this grace of kings must die,

If hell and treason hold their promises,

Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton.

Linger your patience on, and we’ll digest

The abuse of distance, force a play.

The sum is paid; the traitors are agreed;

The King is set from London; and the scene

Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton.

There is the playhouse now, there must you sit;

And thence to France shall we convey you safe,

And bring you back, charming the narrow seas

To give you gentle pass; for, if we may,

We’ll not offend one stomach with our play.

But, till the King come forth, and not till then,

Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.

Well met, Corporal Nym.

Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph.

What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet?

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.

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.

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.

It is certain, corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly; and

certainly she did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her.

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.

Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife. Good Corporal, be patient here.

How now, mine host Pistol!

Base tike, call’st thou me host?

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

Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers.

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. [_Nym and Pistol

draw._] O well a day, Lady, if he be not drawn now! We shall see wilful

adultery and murder committed.

Good Lieutenant! good corporal! offer nothing here.

Pish!

Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-ear’d cur of Iceland!

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

Will you shog off? I would have you _solus_.

_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.

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.

O braggart vile and damned furious wight!

The grave doth gape, and doting death is near,

Therefore exhale.

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.

An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate.

Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give.

Thy spirits are most tall.

I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair terms: that is the

humour of it.

“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.

Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, 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.

Away, you rogue!

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.

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?

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

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

Base is the slave that pays.

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

As manhood shall compound. Push home.

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

sword, I will.

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

Corporal Nym, and thou wilt be friends, be friends; an thou wilt not,

why, then, be enemies with me too. Prithee, put up.

I shall have my eight shillings I won from you at betting?

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.

I shall have my noble?

In cash most justly paid.

Well, then, that’s the humour of’t.

As ever you come 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.

The King hath run bad humours on the knight; that’s the even of it.

Nym, thou hast spoke the right.

His heart is fracted and corroborate.

The King is a good king; but it must be as it may; he passes some

humours and careers.

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