2. SCENE II. The same.
[Enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.]
On, on, on, on, on! To the breach, to the breach!
Pray thee, corporal, stay. The knocks are too hot; and, for
mine own part, I have not a case of lives. The humour of it is
too hot; that is the very plain-song of it.
The plain-song is most just, for humours do abound.
"Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die;
And sword and shield,
In bloody field,
Doth win immortal fame."
Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would give all my
fame for a pot of ale and safety.
"If wishes would prevail with me,
My purpose should not fail with me,
But thither would I hie."
"As duly, but not as truly,
As bird doth sing on bough."
Up to the breach, you dogs! Avaunt, you cullions!
[Driving them forward.]
Be merciful, great Duke, to men of mould.
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage,
Abate thy rage, great Duke!
Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck!
These be good humours! Your honour wins bad humours.
[Exeunt [all but Boy.]