[Act 3, Scene 2]
Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistoll, and Boy.
Bard.
On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach.
Nim.
'Pray thee Corporall stay, the Knocks are too
hot: and for mine owne part, I haue not a Case of Liues:
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the humor of it is too hot, that is the very plaine-Song
of it.
Pist.
The plaine-Song is most iust: for humors doe a-
bound: Knocks goe and come: Gods Vassals drop and
dye: and Sword and Shield, in bloody Field, doth winne
[1095]
immortall fame.
Boy.
Would I were in an Ale-house in London, I
would giue all my fame for a Pot of Ale, and safetie.
Pist.
And I: If wishes would preuayle with me, my
purpose should not fayle with me; but thither would I
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high.
Boy.
As duly, but not as truly, as Bird doth sing on
bough.
Enter Fluellen.
Flu.
Vp to the breach, you Dogges; auaunt you
Cullions.
Pist.
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Be mercifull great Duke to men of Mould: a-
bate thy Rage, abate thy manly Rage; abate thy Rage,
great Duke. Good Bawcock bate thy Rage: vse lenitie
sweet Chuck.
Nim.
These be good humors: your Honor wins bad
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humors.
Exit.
Boy.
As young as I am, I haue obseru'd these three
Swashers: I am Boy to them all three, but all they three,
though they would serue me, could not be Man to me;
for indeed three such Antiques doe not amount to a man:
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for
Bardolph, hee is white-liuer'd, and red-fac'd; by the
meanes whereof, a faces it out, but fights not: for
Pistoll,
hee hath a killing Tongue, and a quiet Sword; by the
meanes whereof, a breakes Words, and keepes whole
Weapons: for
Nim, hee hath heard, that men of few
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Words are the best men, and therefore hee scornes to say
his Prayers, lest a should be thought a Coward: but his
few bad Words are matcht with as few good Deeds; for
a neuer broke any mans Head but his owne, and that was
against a Post, when he was drunke. They will steale any
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thing, and call it Purchase.
Bardolph stole a Lute-case,
bore it twelue Leagues, and sold it for three halfepence.
Nim and
Bardolph are sworne Brothers in filching: and
in Callice they stole a fire-shouell. I knew by that peece
of Seruice, the men would carry Coales. They would
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haue me as familiar with mens Pockets, as their Gloues
or their Hand-kerchers: which makes much against my
Manhood, if I should take from anothers Pocket, to put
into mine; for it is plaine pocketting vp of Wrongs.
I must leaue them, and seeke some better Seruice: their
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Villany goes against my weake stomacke, and therefore
I must cast it vp.
Exit.
Enter Gower.
Gower.
Captaine
Fluellen, you must
come presently to
the Mynes; the Duke of Gloucester
would speake with
you.
Flu.
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To the Mynes? Tell you the Duke, it is not so
good to come to the Mynes: for looke you, the Mynes
is not according to the disciplines of the Warre; the con-
cauities of it is not sufficient: for looke you, th'athuer-
sarie, you may discusse vnto the Duke, looke you, is digt
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himselfe foure yard vnder the Countermines: by
Cheshu,
I thinke a will plowe vp all, if there is not better directi-
ons.
Gower.
The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the Order
of the Siege is giuen, is altogether directed by an Irish
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man, a very valiant Gentleman yfaith.
Welch.
It is Captaine
Makmorrice, is it not?
Gower.
I thinke it be.
Welch.
By
Cheshu he is an Asse, as in the World, I will
verifie as much in his Beard: he ha's no more directions
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in the true disciplines of the Warres, looke you, of the
Roman disciplines, then is a Puppy-dog.
Enter Makmorrice, and
Captaine Iamy.
Gower.
Here a comes, and the Scots Captaine, Captaine
Iamy, with him.
Welch.
Captaine
Iamy is a maruellous falorous Gen-
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tleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and know-
ledge in th'aunchiant Warres, vpon my particular know-
ledge of his directions: by
Cheshu he will maintaine his
Argument as well as any Militarie man in the World, in
the disciplines of the Pristine Warres of the Romans.
Scot.
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I say gudday, Captaine
Fluellen.
Welch.
Godden to your Worship, good Captaine
Iames.
Gower.
How now Captaine
Mackmorrice, haue you
quit the Mynes? haue the Pioners giuen o're?
Irish.
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By Chrish Law tish ill done: the Worke ish
giue ouer, the
Trompet sound the Retreat. By my Hand
I sweare, and my
fathers Soule, the Worke ish ill done:
it ish giue ouer: I
would haue blowed vp the Towne,
so Chrish saue me law, in
an houre. O tish ill done, tish ill
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done: by my Hand tish
ill done.
Welch.
Captaine
Mackmorrice, I beseech you now,
will you voutsafe me, looke you, a few disputations with
you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of
the Warre, the Roman Warres, in the way of Argument,
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looke you, and friendly communication: partly to satisfie
my Opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, looke you, of
my Mind: as touching the direction of the Militarie dis-
cipline, that is the Point.
Scot.
It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud Captens bath,
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and I sall quit you with gud leue, as I may pick occasion:
that sall I mary.
Irish.
It is no time to discourse, so Chrish saue me:
the day is hot, and the Weather, and the Warres, and the
King, and the Dukes: it is no time to discourse, the Town
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is beseech'd: and the Trumpet call vs to the breech, and
we talke, and be Chrish do nothing, tis shame for vs all:
so God sa'me tis shame to stand still, it is shame by my
hand: and there is Throats to be cut, and Workes to be
done, and there ish nothing done, so Christ sa'me law.
Scot.
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By the Mes, ere theise eyes of mine take them-
selues to slomber, ayle de gud seruice, or Ile ligge i'th'
grund for it; ay, or goe to death: and Ile pay't as valo-
rously as I may, that sal I suerly do, that is the breff and
the long: mary, I wad full faine heard some question
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tween you tway.
Welch.
Captaine
Mackmorrice, I thinke, looke you,
vnder your correction, there is not many of your Na-
tion.
Irish.
Of my Nation? What ish my Nation? Ish a
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Villaine, and a Basterd, and a Knaue, and a Rascall. What
ish my Nation? Who talkes of my Nation?
Welch.
Looke you, if you take the matter otherwise
then is meant, Captaine
Mackmorrice, peraduenture I
shall thinke you doe not vse me with that affabilitie, as in
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discretion you ought to vse me, looke you, being as good
a man as your selfe, both in the disciplines of Warre, and
in the deriuation of my Birth, and in other particula-
rities.
Irish.
I doe not know you so good a man as my selfe:
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so Chrish saue me, I will cut off your Head.
Gower.
Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.
Scot.
A, that's a foule fault.
A Parley.
Gower.
The Towne sounds a Parley.
Welch.
Captaine
Mackmorrice, when there is more
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better oportunitie to be required, looke you, I will be
so bold as to tell you, I know the disciplines of Warre:
and there is an end.
Exit.
