an a' do nothing but speak nothing,
a' shall be nothing here.
Come, get you down stairs.
What! shall we have incision? shall we imbrue?
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!
Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!
Here's goodly stuff toward!
Give me my rapier, boy.
I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.
Get you down stairs.
Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping
house, afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights.
So; murder, I warrant now. Alas, alas! put up
your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons.
I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone.
Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you!
He you not hurt i' the groin? methought a' made a
shrewd thrust at your belly.
Have you turned him out o' doors?
Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have hurt him,
sir, i' the shoulder.
A rascal! to brave me!
Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! alas, poor ape,
how thou sweatest! come, let me wipe thy face;
come on, you whoreson chops: ah, rogue! i'faith, I
love thee: thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy,
worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than
the Nine Worthies: ah, villain!
A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket.
Do, an thou darest for thy heart: an thou dost,
I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets.
The music is come, sir.
Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll.
A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from me
like quicksilver.
I' faith, and thou followedst him like a church.
Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig,
when wilt thou leave fighting o' days and foining
o' nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven?
Peace, good Doll! do not speak like a death's-head;
do not bid me remember mine end.
Sirrah, what humour's the prince of?
A good shallow young fellow: a' would have made a
good pantler, a' would ha' chipp'd bread well.
They say Poins has a good wit.
He a good wit? hang him, baboon! his wit's as thick
as Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in him
than is in a mallet.
Why does the prince love him so, then?
Because their legs are both of a bigness, and a'
plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel,
and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons, and