Fal. Dost thou hear, hostess ?

Host. Pray you, pacify yourself, sir John; there comes no swaggerers here.

Fal. Dost thou hear? it is mine ancient.

Host. Tilly-fally, sir John, never tell me; your ancient swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before master Tisick, the deputy, the other day; and, as he said to me, it was no longer ago than Wednesday last,—' Neighbor Quickly,' says he :master Dumb, our minister, was by then :-' Neighbor Quickly,' says he, 'receive those that are civil ; for,' saith he, 'you are in an ill name;'—now he said so, I can tell whereupon; for,' says he, ‘you are an honest woman, and well thought on; therefore take heed what guests you receive. Receive,' says he, no swaggering companions.' There comes none here;-you would bless you to hear what he said:-no, I'll no swaggerers.

Fal. He's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame cheater,1 he; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound: he will not swagger with a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show of resistance. Call him up, drawer.

Host. Cheater call you him? I will bar no honest man my house, nor no cheater: but I do not love swaggering; by my troth, I am the worse, when one says-swagger: feel, masters, how I shake; look you, I warrant you.

I Gamester.

Doll. So you do, hostess.

Host. Do I? yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers.

Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and page.

Pis. Save you, sir John!

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

Pis. I will discharge upon her, sir John, with two bullets.

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

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

Pis. Then to you, mistress Dorothy; I will charge you.

Doll. Charge me? I scorn you, scurvy companion! What! you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away! I am meat for your master.

Pis. I know you, mistress Dorothy.

Doll. Away, you cutpurse rascal! you filthy bung, away! by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle 1 with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you baskethilt stale juggler, you!-Since when, I pray you,

1 Cutpurse.

sir?—What, with two points on your shoulder ? 1 much!

Pis. I will murder your ruff for this.

Fal. No more, Pistol; I would not have you go off here: discharge yourself of our company, Pistol. Host. No, good captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain.

Doll. Captain! thou abominable damned cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called captain? If captains were of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you before you have earned them. You a captain, you slave! for what? for tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdyhouse? He a captain? Hang him, rogue! He lives upon mouldy stewed prunes, and dried 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 sorted: therefore captains had need look to it.

Bar. Pray thee, go down, good ancient.

Fal. Hark thee hither, mistress Doll.

Pis. Not I tell thee what, corporal Bardolph ;— I could tear her : I'll be revenged on her.

Page. Pray thee, go down.

Pis. I'll see her damned first;-to Pluto's damned lake, to the infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. Down!

As marks of his commission.

down, dogs! down, faitors! Have we not Hiren here? 2

Host. Good captain Peesel, be quiet; it is very late, i' faith: I beseek you now, aggravate your choler.

Pis. These be good humors, indeed! Shall packhorses,

And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,

Which cannot go but thirty miles a day,
Compare with Cæsars, and with Cannibals,3

And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus, and let the welkin roar.

Shall we fall foul for toys?

Host. By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.

Bar. Be gone, good ancient: this will grow to a brawl anon.

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

Host. O' my word, captain, there's none such here. What the good-year! do you think, I would deny her? for God's sake, be quiet.

Pis. Then, feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis.* Come, give 's some sack.

Si fortuna me tormenta, sperato me contenta.—

1 Traitors.

3 For Hannibals.

2 A quotation from an old play of G. Peele.

A burlesque on a line in an old play called The Battel of Alcazar.

Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire: Give me some sack;—and, sweetheart, lie thou [laying down his sword.

there.

Come we to full points here;1 and are et ceteras

nothing?

Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet.

Pis. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif. What! we have seen the seven stars.

Doll. Thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure such a fustian rascal.

Pis. Thrust him down stairs! know we not Galloway nags ? 3

Fal. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shovegroat shilling: nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here.

Bar. Come, get you down stairs.

Pis. What! shall we have incision? shall we im

brue?

[snatching up his sword. Then death rock me asleep,5 abridge my doleful

days!

Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds Untwine the sisters three! Come, Atropos, I say! Host. Here's goodly stuff toward!

Fal. Give me my rapier, boy.

Doll. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.

1 Shall we have no farther entertainment?

• Common hackneys.

5 Line of an ancient song.

2 Fist.

4 Throw.