Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Pist. Pist.
Pist. An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate. Giue me thy fist, thy fore-foote to me giue: Thy spirites are most tall.
Nym. Nym.
Nym. I will cut thy throate one time or other in faire termes, that is the humor of it.
Pistoll. Pistoll.
Pistoll. Couple a gorge, that is the word, I defie thee a- gaine. O hound of Creet, think'st thou my spouse to get? No, to the spittle goe, and from the Poudring tub of in famy, fetch forth the Lazar Kite of Cressids kinde, Doll Teare-sheete, she by name, and her espouse. I haue, and I will hold the Quondam Quickely for the onely shee: and Pauca, there's enough to go to.
Pistoll. Enter the Boy.
Boy. Boy.
Boy. Mine Hoast Pistoll, you must come to my May- ster, and your Hostesse: He is very sicke, & would to bed. Good Bardolfe, put thy face betweene his sheets, and do the Office of a Warming-pan: Faith, he's very ill.
Bard. Bard.
Bard. Away you Rogue.
Host. Host.
Host. By my troth he'l yeeld the Crow a pudding one of these dayes: the King has kild his heart. Good Hus- band come home presently.
Host. Exit
Bar. Bar.
Bar. Come, shall I make you two friends. Wee must to France together: why the diuel should we keep kniues to cut one anothers throats?
Pist. Let floods ore-swell, and fiends for food howle on.
Nym. You'l pay me the eight shillings I won of you at Betting?