Document:  All > Shakespeare > Histories > King Henry V > Act II, scene I

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	[Enter Corporal NYM and Lieutenant BARDOLPH]

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 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.

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.

	[Enter PISTOL and Hostess]

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.

	[NYM and PISTOL draw]

	O well a day, Lady, if he be not drawn 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-ear'd 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.

	[Draws]

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
	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.

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.

	[Exeunt Hostess and Boy]

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.

	[Re-enter Hostess]

Hostess: 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 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.




	KING HENRY V






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