France. The English camp.
[Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER]
GOWER Nay, that’s right;
but why wear you your leek today?
Saint Davy’s day is past.
FLUELLEN There is occasions and causes why and
wherefore in all things: I will tell you, asse my friend,
Captain Gower: the rascally, scald, beggarly,
lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, which you and
yourself and all the world know to be no petter
than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is
come to me and prings me pread and salt yesterday,
look you, and bid me eat my leek: it was in place
where I could not breed no contention with him; but
I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see
him once again, and then I will tell him a little
piece of my desires.
[Enter PISTOL]
GOWER Why,
here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
FLUELLEN ‘ Tis no matter for his swellings nor his
turkey-cocks. God pless you, Aunchient Pistol! you
scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!
PISTOL Ha! art thou bedlam?
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
FLUELLEN I peseech you heartily, scurvy,
lousy knave, to eat, look you, this leek.
PISTOL Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.
FLUELLEN There is one goat for you.
[Strikes him]
Will you be so good, scauld knave, as eat it?
PISTOL Base Trojan, thou shalt die.
FLUELLEN You say very true, scauld knave,
when God’s will is: I will desire you to live in
the mean time, and eat your victuals: come,
there is sauce for it.
[Strikes him]
if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.
Bite, I pray you…
PISTOL Must I bite?
FLUELLEN Out of doubt and out of question too.
PISTOL By this leek, I will most horribly revenge:
I eat and eat, I swear–
FLUELLEN Nay, pray
you, throw none away; the skin is good for your
broken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see
leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at ’em; that is all.
PISTOL Good.
FLUELLEN Ay, leeks is good: hold you,
there is a groat to heal your pate.
PISTOL Me a groat!
FLUELLEN Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take it;
or I have another leek in my pocket, which you shall
eat. God b’ wi’ you, and keep you, and heal your pate.
[Exit]
PISTOL All hell shall stir for this.
GOWER Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly knave.
You thought, because he could not speak English in the
native garb, he could not therefore handle an
English cudgel: you find it otherwise; and
henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good
English condition. Fare ye well.
[Exit]
PISTOL Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now?
News have I, that my Nell is dead i’ the hospital
Of malady of France;
And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.
Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs
Honour is cudgelled. Well, bawd I’ll turn,
And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand.
To England will I steal, and there I’ll steal:
And patches will I get unto these cudgell’d scars,
And swear I got them in the Gallia wars.
[Exit]
Chorus Act 5 | Act 5.2
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