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make the diseases, -Dol; we catch of you, Dol, we catch of you ; grant that, my poor virtue, grant that 2: Dol. Ay, marry, our chains and our jewels. Fak. Your brooches, pearls, and owches: for to serve brávely, is to come halting off, you know; to come off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and to furgery bravely; to venture upon the charge'd chambers brave

Dol. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourfelf! Hoft. By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never meet, but you fall to some discord; you are both, in good troth, as rheumatic * as twy dry toasts, you cannot one bear witli.another's confirmities. What the good-jer? one must bear, and that must be you: you are the weaker vessel, as they say, the ernptier vessel.

[T. Dol. Dol. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead ? there's a whole inerchant's venture of Bourdeaux stuff in him ; you have not seen a hulk better Ruff'd in the hold. Come, I'll be friends with thee, Jack: thou art going to the wars, and whether I shall ever see thee again or no, there is no body cares.

SCENE IX. Enter Drawer. Draw. Sir, Ancient Pistol is below, and would speak

with you.

Dol. Hang him, swaggering rascal, let him not come hither; it is the foul-mouth'dít rogue in England.

Hoft. If he swagger, let him not come here: no, by my faith. I mult live amongst my neighbours, I'll no swaggerers. I am in good name and fame with the very best: shut the door, there comes no swaggerers here. I have not liv'd all this while to have swaggering now : fhut the door, I pray you. Fal. Dost thou hear, hostess?

Hoft. Pray you, pacify yourself, Sir John; there comes no swaggerers here.

Fal. Dost thou hear it is mine Ancient. Hoft. Tilly-fally, Sir John, never tell me; your ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before * She means to say Jplonetic.


Master Tifick the deputy the other day; and, as he said to me--it was no longer ago than Wednesday lastNeighbour Quickly, fays he;-Maiter Domb our mi. nister was by then;-neighbour Quickly, tays he, receive those that are civil; for, faith he, you are in an ill name; (now he said so, I can tell where'upon ;) for, fays he, you are an honest woman, and well thought on; therefore take heed what guelts you receive: receive, says he, no swaggering companions. There come none here. You would bleis you to hear what he said. No, I'll no swaggerers.

Fal. He's no fwaggerer, hoites; a tame cheater, i'faith; you may stroak him as gently as a puppeygreyhound; he will not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her fathers turn back in any fhew of refiitance. Call him up, drawer,

Hoft. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, nor no cheater; but I do not love fwaggering, by my troth; I am the worse, when one says swagger. Feel, Masters, how I shake, look you, I warrant you.

Dol. So you do, hostess.

Hoft. Do I? yea, in very truth, do I, as if it weré an aipen-leaf. I cannot abide swaggerers.

SCENE X. Enter Pistol, Bardolph, and Page. Pift. Save you, Sir John.

Fal. Welcoine, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you with a cup of sack: do you discharge upon mine hostess.

Pift. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.

Fal. She is pistol-proof, Sir, you shall hardly offend her.

Hoft. Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no bullets. I will drink no more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, 1.

Pif. Then to you, Mrs. Dorothy, I will charge you.

Dol. Charge ine! I scorn you, scurvy companion ! what? you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate; away, you mouldy rogue, away, I'm meat for

your master.

Pift. I know you, Mifrels Dorothy.


Dol. Away, you cut-pure rascal, you filthy bung, away : by this wine, I'll ihruit my knife in your mouldy chaps, if you play the laucy cuttle with me. A way, you bottle-ale rascal, you baiket hilt itale juggler, you. Since when, I pray you, Sir? what, with two points on your ihoulder? much * !

Pift. I will murder your ruff for this.

Fal. No more, Pistol ; | wou'd not have you go off here : discharge yourself of our company, Piitol.

ieft. No, good Captain Fiftol: not here, sweet Captain.

Dol. Captain! thou abominable damn'd cheater, art thou not atham'd to be call’d Captain? if Captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out of taking their names upon you before you have earn item. You a Captain ! you slave! for what? for tearing a

poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-houle ! e a Captain! hang him, rogue, he lives upon mouldy itew'd prunes and dry'd cakes. A Captain ! these villains will make the word captain as: odious as the word occupy; which was an excellent good word before it was ill forted : therefore captains hiad need look to it.

Bard. Pray thee, go downl, good Ancient.
Fal. Hark thee hither, Mitreis Dol.

Pift. Not I: I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, i could tear her : Ill be revenge'd on her.

Page. Pray thee, go down. Pijt. I'll see her damn d first; to Pluto's damned lake, to the infernal deep, to Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, fay 1: down! down, dogs; down fates : have we not Hiren + here?

Hoft. Good Captain Feelel, be quiet, it is very late: I beseech you now, aggravate your choler.

Pift. These be good humours indeed. Shall pack, And hollow-pamper'd jades of lia I,

(horses Which cannot go but thirty miles a-day,

* A comm( n expr-flown of saain at that time.

+ The name of Pilol's and Ar dis cu Gaul's (word. Mr. Tbebaid

I The lines are in : 2-* a question out of an old absurd fuffian play, intitled, Tumbur duin's conguets; or, Ilz Sty' biaa frepberd. Mr. Theobaid,


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Compare with Cafars, and with Cannibals, tru: And Trojan Greeks Day rather damn them with3 King Cerberus, and let the welkin roar: 71.11 Shall we falt foul for toys ?

Hoft: By my troth; Captain, these are very bitter words.

Bard. Begone, good Ancient: this will grow to a brawl anon.

Pist. Die men like dogs; give crowns like pins have we not Hiren here?

Hofi. O' my word, Captain there's none fuch here. What the good-jer? do you think I would deny 'hér? I pray, be quiet.

Pift. Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis; come, give me some fack. Si fortuna tormenta, il fperare me contenta.' Fear we broad-fides? no, let the fiend give fire: Give me some fack : and, sweet-heart, lie thou there. Come we to full points here, and are do cætera's noFal. Piftol, I would be quiet."

[thing? Pift. Sweet Knight, I kiss thy neif: what! we have seen the seven stars.

Dol. Thrust him down stairs, I cannot endure such a fustian rascal.

Pift: Thrust him down ftairs? know we not galloway

Fal. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a fhove-groat shilling: nay, if he do nothing but fpeak nothing, he shall be nothing here.

Burd. Come, get you down stairs.

Pift. What, shall we have incision! shall we embrew? then Death"rock me asleep, abridge my dolefu! days: why, then let grievous, ghafly, gaping wounds antwine the fifters three. Come, Atropos, I fay.

[Drawing his sword. Hoft. Here's goodly stuff toward. Fal. Give me my rapier, boy. Dol. I pr’ythee, Jack, I pr’ythee, do not draw. Fal. Get you down stairs.

[Drawing and driving Pistol out. Hoft. Here's a goodly tumult: I'll forfwear keeping house before I'll be in these tirrets and frights. So;


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murther, I warrant now. Alas, alas, put up yournaoked weapons; put up your naked weapons

and Dol. I prythee, Jack, be quiet, the rafeal is gone : ah, you whorson, little valiant villain, you !

Hoft. Are you not hurt i' th? groin ? methought he made a shrewd thrult at your belly.

Fak. Have you turned him out of doors ?
Bard. Yes, Sir, the rascal's drunk :


have hurt him, Sir, in the shoulder.

Fal. A rascal, to brave me !

Dol. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you : alas, poor ape, how thou sweatst ? come, let me wipe thy facecome on, you whorson chops--ah, rogue! I love thee,

thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon; and ten times better than the nine sworthies : a villain !

Fal. A rascally Dave ! I will tofs the rogue in a blanket.

Del. Do, if thou dar'ft.for thy heart: if thou doft,
I'll canvass thee between a pair of theets.

Enter Music.
Page. The music is come, Sir.

Fal. Let them play ; play Sirs. Sit on my knee. Dok A rafcal, bragging slave! the rogue fled from me like quick-silver.

Dol. I faith, and thou follow'dit him like a church: thou whorson little tydie Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting on days, and foining on nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven? SCENE XI. Enter Prince Henry and Poins.

Fal Peace, good Dol, do not speak like a death's heado do not bid me remember mine end.

Dol, Sirrah, what humour is the Prince of ?

Fal. A good shallow young fellow: he would have made a good pantler, he would have chipp'd bread well.

Dol. They say, Poins has a good wit.

Fal. He a good wit ? hang him, baboon !-his wit is as thick as Tewksbury multard : there is no more conceit in him, than is in a mallet.: Vol. IV. Bb


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