good corporal, be patient here. How now, mine host Pistol! Base tike, call'st thou me host? Now, by this hand, I swear, I scorn the term; Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live honestly by the prick of their needles, but it will be thought we keep a bawdy house straight. O well a day, Lady, if he be not drawn now! we shall see wilful adultery and murder committed. Good lieutenant! good corporal! offer nothing here. Pish! Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-ear'd cur of Iceland! Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put up your sword. Will you shog off? I would have you solus. 'Solus,' egregious dog? O viper vile! The 'solus' in thy most mervailous face; The 'solus' in thy teeth, and in thy throat, And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy, And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth! I do retort the 'solus' in thy bowels; For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up, And flashing fire will follow. I am not Barbason; you cannot conjure me. I have an humour to knock you indifferently well. If you grow foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as I may, in fair terms: if you would walk off, I would prick your guts a little, in good terms, as I may: and that's the humour of it. O braggart vile and damned furious wight! The grave doth gape, and doting death is near; Therefore exhale. Hear me, hear me what I say: he that strikes the first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier. An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate. Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give: Thy spirits are most tall. I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair terms: that is the humour of it. 'Couple a gorge!' That is the word. I thee defy again. O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get? No; to the spital go, And from the powdering tub of infamy Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind, Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse: I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly For the only she; and--pauca, there's enough. Go to. Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, and you, hostess: he is very sick, and would to