Act III, Scene ii: The same. | BARDOLPH: | | On, on, on, on, on! To the breach, to the breach! |
| NYM: | | Pray thee, corporal, stay. The knocks are too hot; and, for | | mine own part, I have not a case of lives. The humour of it is | | too hot; that is the very plain-song of it. |
| PISTOL: | | The plain-song is most just, for humours do abound. | | "Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die; | And sword and shield, | In bloody field, | | Doth win immortal fame." |
| BOY: | | Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would give all my | | fame for a pot of ale and safety. |
| PISTOL: | | And I. | | "If wishes would prevail with me, | | My purpose should not fail with me, | But thither would I hie." |
| BOY: | | "As duly, but not as truly, | As bird doth sing on bough." |
| FLUELLEN: | | Up to the breach, you dogs! Avaunt, you cullions! |
| PISTOL: | | Be merciful, great Duke, to men of mould. | | Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage, | | Abate thy rage, great Duke! | | Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck! |
| These be good humours! Your honour wins bad humours. |
| BOY: | | As young as I am, I have observ'd these three swashers. I am | | boy to them all three; but all they three, though they would | | serve me, could not be man to me; for indeed three such antics | | do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-liver'd and | | red-fac'd; by the means whereof 'a faces it out, but fights not. | | For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword; by the | | means whereof 'a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For | | Nym, he hath heard that men of few words are the best men; and | | therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest 'a should be thought | | a coward. But his few bad words are match'd with as few good | | deeds; for 'a never broke any man's head but his own, and that | | was against a post when he was drunk. They will steal anything, | | and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case, bore it twelve | | leagues, and sold it for three half-pence. Nym and Bardolph are | | sworn brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a | | fire-shovel. | | I knew by that piece of service the men would carry coals. They | | would have me as familiar with men's pockets as their gloves or | | their handkerchers; which makes much against my manhood, if I | | should take from another's pocket to put into mine; for it is | | plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some | | better service. Their villainy goes against my weak stomach, | | and therefore I must cast it up. |
| [Enter Gower [and Fluellen.] |
| GOWER: | | Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines. | | The Duke of Gloucester would speak with you. |
| FLUELLEN: | | To the mines! Tell you the Duke, it is not so good to come | | to the mines; for, look you, the mines is not according to the | | disciplines of the war. The concavities of it is not sufficient; | | for, look you, the athversary, you may discuss unto the Duke, | | look you, is digt himself four yard under the countermines. By | | Cheshu, I think 'a will plow up all, if there is not better | | directions. |
| GOWER: | | The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the siege is | | given, is altogether directed by an Irishman, a very valiant | | gentleman, i' faith. |
| FLUELLEN: | | It is Captain Macmorris, is it not? |
| FLUELLEN: | | By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world. I will verify as | | much in his beard. He has no more directions in the true | | disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, | | than is a puppy-dog. |
| [Enter Macmorris and Captain Jamy.] |
| GOWER: | | Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him. |
| FLUELLEN: | | Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is | | certain; and of great expedition and knowledge in the aunchient | | wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions. By Cheshu, | | he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the | | world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans. |
| JAMY: | | I say gud-day, Captain Fluellen. |
| FLUELLEN: | | God-den to your worship, good Captain James. |
| GOWER: | | How now, Captain Macmorris! have you quit the mines? | | Have the pioneers given o'er? |
| MACMORRIS: | | By Chrish, la! 'tish ill done! The work ish give over, the | | trompet sound the retreat. By my hand I swear, and my | | father's soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over. I would | | have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me, la! in an hour. | | O, 'tish ill done, 'tish ill done; by my hand, 'tish ill done! |
| FLUELLEN: | | Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe me, | | look you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or | | concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way | | of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly to | | satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, look you, of | | my mind, as touching the direction of the military discipline; | | that is the point. |
| JAMY: | | It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath: and I sall | | quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, | | marry. |
| MACMORRIS: | | It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me. The day is hot, | | and the weather, and the wars, and the King, and the Dukes. It | | is no time to discourse. The town is beseech'd, and the trumpet | | call us to the breach, and we talk, and, be Chrish, do nothing. | | 'Tis shame for us all. So God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand still; | | it is shame, by my hand; and there is throats to be cut, and works | | to be done; and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me, la! |
| JAMY: | | By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves to slomber, | | I'll de gud service, or I'll lig i' the grund for it; ay, or go to | | death; and I'll pay't as valorously as I may, that sall I suerly do, | | that is the breff and the long. Marry, I wad full fain heard some | | question 'tween you tway. |
| FLUELLEN: | | Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there | | is not many of your nation— |
| MACMORRIS: | | Of my nation! What ish my nation? Ish a villain, and a bastard, | | and a knave, and a rascal? What ish my nation? Who talks of my | | nation? |
| FLUELLEN: | | Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, Captain | | Macmorris, peradventure I shall think you do not use me with that | | affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look you, being | | as good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of war, and in | | the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities. |
| MACMORRIS: | | I do not know you so good a man as myself. So Chrish save me, | | I will cut off your head. |
| GOWER: | | Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other. |
| JAMY: | | Ah! that's a foul fault. |
| GOWER: | | The town sounds a parley. |
| FLUELLEN: | | Captain Macmorris, when there is more better opportunity to be | | required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you I know the | | disciplines of war; and there is an end. |
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