I have an 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, as I may, and that's the humor of it.

PIST.

O braggard vile and damned furious wight!

The grave doth gape, and doting death is near,

Therefore exhale.

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.

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 humor of it.

PIST.

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 spittle go,

And from the powd'ring-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 too!

Go to.

 

Enter the Boy.

 

BOY. Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, and your 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.

BARD. Away, you rogue!

HOST. 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.

 

Exit [with 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.

 

[They] draw.

 

BARD. By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I'll kill him; by this sword, I will.

 

[Draws.]

 

PIST.

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

BARD. Corporal Nym, and thou wilt be friends, be friends; and 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?]

PIST.

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?

PIST. In cash, most justly paid.

NYM. Well, then that['s] the humor of't.

 

Enter Hostess.

 

HOST. 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.