ACT V
SCENE I 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? dost thou thirst, base Trojan,
 To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?
 Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.

FLUELLEN I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my
 desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat,
 look you, this leek: because, look you, you do not
 love it, nor your affections and your appetites and
 your digestions doo's not agree with it, I would
 desire you to eat it.

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]

 You called me yesterday mountain-squire; but I will
 make you to-day a squire of low degree. I pray you,
 fall to: if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.

GOWER Enough, captain: you have astonished him.

FLUELLEN I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or
 I will peat his pate four days. Bite, I pray you; it
 is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb.

PISTOL Must I bite?

FLUELLEN Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question
 too, and ambiguities.

PISTOL By this leek, I will most horribly revenge: I eat
 and eat, I swear--

FLUELLEN Eat, I pray you: will you have some more sauce to
 your leek? there is not enough leek to swear by.

PISTOL Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat.

FLUELLEN Much good do you, scauld knave, heartily. 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.

PISTOL I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.

FLUELLEN If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in cudgels:
 you shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but
 cudgels. 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. Will
 you mock at an ancient tradition, begun upon an
 honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of
 predeceased valour and dare not avouch in your deeds
 any of your words? I have seen you gleeking and
 galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. 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 spital
 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]




 KING HENRY V


ACT V