l thread be cut
With edge of penny cord and vile reproach:
Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite.
[_Crosses to R.H._
_Flu._ Ancient Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning.
_Pist._ Why, then, rejoice therefore.
_Flu._ Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice at: for if,
look you, he were my prother, I would desire the duke to use his goot
pleasure, and put him to executions; for disciplines ought to be used.
_Pist._ _Fico_ for thy friendship![10]
_Flu._ It is well.
_Pist._ The fig of Spain![11]
[_Exit PISTOL, R.H._
_Flu._ Very goot.
_Gow._ Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; a cut-purse;
I remember him now.
_Flu._ I'll assure you, 'a utter'd as prave 'ords at the pridge as you
shall see in a summer's day.
_Gow._ Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now and then goes to the
wars, to grace himself, at his return into London, under the form of a
soldier. You must learn to know such slanders of the age,[12] or else
you may be marvellously mistook.
_Flu._ I tell you what, Captain Gower;--I do perceive, he is not the man
that he would gladly make show to the 'orld he is: if I find a hole in
his coat, I will tell him my mind. [_March heard._] Hark you, the king
is coming; and I must speak with him from the pridge.[13]
_Enter KING HENRY, BEDFORD, GLOSTER, WESTMORELAND, Lords,
and Soldiers, L.H.U.E._
_Flu._ (R.) Heaven pless your majesty!
_K. Hen._ (C.) How now, Fluellen! cam'st thou from the bridge?
_Flu._ Ay, so please your majesty. The duke of Exeter has very gallantly
maintained the pridge: the French has gone off, look you; and there is
gallant and most prave passages: Marry, th'athversary was have
possession of the pridge; but he is enforced to retire, and the duke of
Exeter is master of the pridge: I can tell your majesty, the duke is a
prave man.
_K. Hen._ What men have you lost, Fluellen?
_Flu._ The perdition of th'athversary hath been very great, very
reasonable great: marry, for my part, I think the duke hath lost never a
man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing a church, one
Bardolph, if your majesty knows the man: his face is all bubukles,[14]
and whelks,[15] and knobs, and flames of fire: and his lips plows at his
nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plue, and sometimes red;
but his nose is executed, and his fire's out.[16]
_K. Hen._ We would have all such offenders so cut off.
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