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Shal. By the mass, you 'll crack a quart together,-ah! will you not, Master Bardolph ?
Bard. Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot.
Shal. By God's liggens, I thank thee :- the knave will stick by thee, I can assure thee that : 'a will not out; he is true bred.
Bard. And I'll stick by him, sir.
Shal. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry. [Knocking heard.] Look, who's at door there, ho! Who knocks ? [Exit Davy.
Fal. [TO SILENCE, who drinks a bumper.]
And dub me knight,
Samingo. Is 't not so ?
Fal. 'T is so
Sil. Is 't so? Why, then say, an old man do somewhat.
Re-enter Davy. Davy. If it please your worship, there's one Pistol come from the court with news.
Fal. From the court ! let him come in.
Enter PISTOL. How now, Pistol ?
Pist. Sir John, God save you !
Pist. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good.-
Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in the realm,
Sil. By’r lady, I think he be, but goodman Puff of Barson.
Fal. I pr’ythee now, deliver them like a man of this world. Pist. A foutra for the world, and worldlings
base! speak of Africa, and golden joys. Fal. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy
news? Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.
Sil. [Sings.] And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.
Pist. Shall Dunghill curs confront the Helicons ? And shall good news be baffled ? Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.
Shal. Honest gentleman, I know not your
breeding. Pist. Why then, lament therefore.
Shal. Give me pardon, sir :—if, sir, you come with news from the court, I take it, there's but two ways : either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, sir, under the king, in authority.
Pist. Under which king, bezonian speak, or die.
Harry the Fourth ? or Fifth ?
A foutra for thine office l-
Fal. What! is the old king dead ?
just. Fal. Away, Bardolph! saddle my horse. Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, 't is thine.- Pistol, I will doublecharge thee with dignities.
Bard. O joyful day!-I would not take a knighthood for
Pist. What! I do bring good news!
Fal. Carry Master Silence to bed.-Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt; I am Fortune's steward. Get on thy boots : we'll ride all night.–O sweet Pistol !-Away, Bardolph. [Exit BARDOLPH.]—Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and, withal, devise something to do thyself good.-Boot, boot, Master Shallow : I know the young king is sick for me. Let us take
man's horses; the laws of England are at my command. ment. Happy are they which have been my friends; and woe to my lord chief justice !
Pist. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also ! • Where is the life that late I led ?' say they ; Why, here it is ;-welcome this pleasant day !
SCENE IV.- London. A Street. Enter Beadles, dragging in Hostess QUICKLY and
DOLL TEAR-SHEET. Host. No, thou arrant knave; I would to God I might die, that I might have thee hanged : thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint.
1 Bead. The constables have delivered her over to me, and she shall have whipping-chieer enough, I
Come on ;
warrant her. There hath been a man or two lately killed about her.
Doll. Nuthook, nuthook, you lie ! I'll tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal. An the child I now go with do miscarry, thou hadst better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paper-faced villain.
Host. O the Lord, that Sir John were come! he would make this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray
God the fruit of her womb miscarry ! 1 Bead. If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again ; you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with me; for the man is dead that you and Pistol beat among you.
Doll. I'll tell thee what, thou thin man in a censer, I will have you as soundly swinged for this, you blue-bottle rogue ! you filthy famished correctioner ! if you be not swinged, I'll forswear half-kirtles.
1 Bead. Come, come, you she knight-errant,
Host. O God, that right should thus overcome might! Well, of sufferance comes ease.
Doll. Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice.
Host. Ay; come, you starved blood-hound.