1. SCENE I. France. The English camp.
[Enter Fluellen and Gower.]
Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek to-day?
Saint Davy's day is past.
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 a 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.
Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. God
pless you, Aunchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God
Ha! art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Troyan,
To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
I peseech you heartily, scurfy, 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.
Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.
There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.] Will you be so
good, scald knave, as eat it?
Base Troyan, thou shalt die.