When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it. K. Henry. We hope to make the fender blush at it: Before Quickly's house in Eaft-cheap. Enter Corporal Nym, and Lieutenant Bardolph. Bard. Well met, Corporal Nym. Nym. Good-morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph. Bard. What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet? Nym. For my part, I care not: I fay little; but when time fhall ferve, there fhall be. [fmiles]. But that shall be as it may. I dare not fight, but I will wink and hold out mine iron; it is a fimple one; but what tho'? it will toaft cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's fword will; and there's an end. Bard. I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends, and we'll be all three fworn brothers to France: let it be fo, good Corporal Nym. Nym. 'Faith, I will live fo 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 reft, that is the rendezvous of it. Bard. It is certain, Corporal, that he is married to Nell Quickly; and certainly the did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her. Nym. I cannot tell, things must be as they may; men may may fleep, and they may have their throats about them at that time; and fome fay, knives have edges i it must be as it mày; though patience be a tir'd dame, yet she will plod; there must be conclufions; well, I cannot tell, Bard. Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife; good Corporal, be patient here. How now, mine hoft Pistol? Pift. Bafe tyke, call'ft thou me hoft? now by this hand, I fwear, I fcorn the term; nor fhall my Nell keep lodgers. Quick. No, by my troth, not long: for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen, that live honeftly by the prick of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy-houfe ftraight. O welliday, Lady, if he be not drawn! Now we shall fee wilful adultery and murder committed. Bard. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal, offer nothing here. Nym. Pifa! Pift. Pifh for thee, ifland dog; thou prick-ear'd cur of Ifland. t Quick. Good Corporal Nym, fhew thy valour, and put up thy fword. Nym. Will you fhog off? I would have you folus. Pift. Solus, egregious dog! O viper vile! The folus in thy molt marvellous face, The folus in thy teeth, and in thy throat, And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy; And, which is worfe, within thy nasty mouth. Dot I do retort the folus in thy bowels; For I can take, and Piftol's cock is up, And flashing fire will follow. Nym. I am not Barbafon, you cannot conjure me: I have an humour to knock you indifferently well; if you grow foul with me, Piftol, I will fcour you with my rapier as I mày, 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. Pift. O braggard vile, and damned furious wight! pare The The grave doth gape, and doating death is near; Bard. Hear me, hear me, what I fay: he that strikes the first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts as I am a foldier. Pift. An oath of mickle might; and fury fhall abate, Give me thy fift, thy fore-foot to me give; Thy fpirits are most tall. Nym. I will cut thy throat one time or other in fair terms, that is the humour of it. છે Pift. Coupe à gorge, that is the word. I defy thee again. O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get? And from the powd'ring tub of infamy Fetch forth the lazar kite of Creffid's kind, १ I have, and I will hold the quondam Quickly Enter the Boy. Boy. Mine hoft Pistol, you must come to my master, and you, hoftefs: he is very fick, and would to bed. Good Bardolph, put thy nose between his fheets, 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 thefe days; the King has kill'd his heart. Good husband, come home prefently. [Exit Quickly. ་་་་ Bard. Come, thall I make you two friends? we must to France together: why the devil fhould we keep knives to cut one another's throats? Pift. Let floods o'erfwell, and fiends for food howl on! Nym. You'll pay me the eight fhillings I won of you at betting? Pift Bafe is the flave that pays. Nym. That now I will have, that's the humour of it. Draws. Bard. By this fword, he that makes the firft thruft, I'll kill him; by this fword, I will. Pift. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their courfe. 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. Pift. A noble fhalt thou have and present pay; And friendship shall combine and brotherhood. Nym. I fhall have my noble ? Pift. In cafh most justly paid. Nym. Well then, that's the humour of't, Quick. As ever you came of women, come in quickly to Sir John: ah, poor heart, he is fo fhak'd 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. Pift. Nym, thou haft spoken the right, his heart is fracted and corroborate. Nym. The King is a good King, but it must be as it may; he paffes fome humours and careers. Pift. Let us condole the Knight; for, lambkins! we will live. [Exeunt, АСТ II. SCENE I. Chorus. No Enter Chorus. OW all the youth of England are on fire, And filken dalliance on the wardrobe lies: d Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought Reigns folely in the breast of every man. They fell the pafture now, to buy the horse; Following the mirror of all Christian kings, With winged heels, as English Mercuries. "For now fits Expectation in the air, "And "And hides a fword from hilts unto the point O England! model to thy inward greatness, What might't thou do, that honour would thee do, But fee, thy fault France hath in thee found out; With treach'rous crowns; and three corrupted men, Ere he take fhip for France. Then in Southampton Th' abufe of diftance, while we farce a play. The fum is paid, the traitors are agreed, The King is fet from London, and the scene Is now tranfported, gentles, to Southampton: SCENE II. Southampton. Enter Exeter, Bedford, and Weftmorland. [Exite Bed. 'Fore God, his Grace is bold to trust these traiExe. They fhall be apprehended by and by. [tors. Weft. How fmooth and even they do bear themfelves, As if allegiance in their bofoms fat, Crowned with faith and conftant loyalty! Bed. |