But why do you wear your 2899leek today? 1505Saint Davy's day is past.

There is occasion, Captain Gower, 1507look you, why, and wherefore. 29031508The other day, look you, Pistols, 1509which you 2904know is a man of no 2905merits 1510in the worell, is come where I was the other day, 1511and brings bread and 2906salt, and bids me 1512eat my leek. 2907'Twas in a place, look you, 1513where I could move no dissentions, 29091514but if I can see him, I shall tell him 1515a little 2910of my desires.

Here a comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.

'Tis no matter for his swelling and his 2915turkey-cocks. -- 1519God pless you, Ancient Pistol, you scall, 29161520beggarly, lousy knave, God pless you.

Ha, art thou bedlam? 1522Dost thou thirst, base 2918Trojan, 1523to have me fold up Parca's fatal web? 1524Hence! 2919I am qualmish at the smell of leek.

Ancient Pistol, I would desire you, 2922because 1526it doth not agree with your stomach, 2923and your appetite, 1527and your 2924digestions, 2925to eat this leek.

Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.

There is one goat for you, Ancient Pistol.

Base Trojan, thou shall die.

Ay, I know I shall die. 2931Meantime, I would 1533desire you to live and 2932eat this leek.

Enough, captain. You have astonished him.

Astonished him? By Jesu, I'll beat his head 1536four days and four nights, 2937but I'll 1537make him eat some part of my leek.

Well, must I bite?

Ay, out of question, or doubt, or 2943ambiguities, 1540you must bite.

Good, good.

Ay, leeks are good, Ancient Pistol. 1543There is a shilling for you 2955to heal your bloody coxcomb.

Me a shilling?

If you will not take it, 1546I have 2958another leek for you.

I take thy shilling in earnest of reckoning.

If I owe you anything, I'll pay you in 2961cudgels. 1549You shall be a woodmonger, 1550and buy 2962cudgels. God b'wi' you, 1551Ancient Pistol, God bless you, 1552and heal your 2951broken pate. 1553Ancient Pistol, if you see 2952leeks another time, 1554mock at them, that is all. God b'wi' you.

All hell shall stir for this.

18.2229751557Doth fortune play the hussy with me now?

18.2329781558Is honor cudgeled from my warlike lines?

18.2429761559Well, France, farewell. News have I certainly

18.251560That Doll is sick on a 2977malady of France.

18.262977.11561The wars affordeth naught. Home will I trug.

18.2729791562Bawd will I turn, and use the 2980sleight of hand;

18.281563To England will I steal, 1564and 2981there I'll steal,

18.2929821565And patches will I get unto these scars,

18.3029831566And swear I gat them in the Gallia wars.