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  • Title: Henry V (Quarto 1, 1600)
  • Editor: James Mardock
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-409-7

    Copyright James Mardock. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: James Mardock
    Peer Reviewed

    Henry V (Quarto 1, 1600)

    The Chronicle Historie
    Nim. I must do as I may, tho patience be a tyred mare,
    Yet sheel plod, and some say kniues haue edges,
    525And men may sleepe and haue their throtes about them
    At that time, and there is the humour of it.
    515Bar. Come yfaith, Ile bestow a breakfast to make Pistoll
    515And thee friendes. What a plague should we carrie kniues
    515.1To cut our owne throates.
    Nim. Yfaith Ile liue as long as I may, thats the certaine of it.
    And when I cannot liue any longer, Ile do as I may,
    520And theres my rest, and the randeuous of it.

    Enter Pistoll and Hostes Quickly, his wife.
    530.1Bar. Godmorrow ancient Pistoll.
    Here comes ancient Pistoll, I prithee Nim be quiet.
    Nim. How do you my Hoste?
    Pist.Base slaue, callest thou me hoste?
    Now by gads lugges I sweare, I scorne the title,
    535Nor shall my Nell keepe lodging.
    Host. No by my troath not I,
    For we cānot bed nor boord halfe a score honest gētlewomē
    That liue honestly by the prick of their needle,
    But it is thought straight we keepe a bawdy-house.
    539.1O Lord heeres Corporall Nims, now shall
    We haue wilful adultry and murther committed:
    541.1Good Corporall Nim shew the valour of a man,
    And put vp your sword.
    Nim. Push.
    544.1Pist. What dost thou push, thou prickeard cur of Iseland?
    Nim. Will you shog off? I would haue you solus.
    550Pist. Solus egregious dog, that solus in thy throte,
    And in thy lungs, and which is worse, within
    Thy mesfull mouth, I do retort that solus in thy
    Bowels, and in thy Iaw, perdie: for I can talke,
    And Pistolls flashing firy cock is vp.
    Nim. I am not Barbasom, you cannot coniure me:
    I haue an humour Pistoll to knock you indifferently well,
    And you fall foule with me Pistoll, Ile scoure you with my