Page 1719 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkeycock.

FLUELLEN
’Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkeycocks. [15] God pless you,
Aunchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!

PISTOL
Ha! art thou bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan
To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web?

Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. [20]

FLUELLEN
I peseech you heartily, scurvy 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 disgestions doo’s not

agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. [25]

PISTOL

Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.

FLUELLEN
There is one goat for you. [Strikes him.] Will you be so good, scauld knave,
as eat it?

PISTOL
Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

FLUELLEN
You say very true, scauld knave, when God’s [30] will is. I will desire you to
live in the mean time and eat your victuals: come, there is sauce for it.

[Strikes him again.] You called me yesterday mountain-squire, but I will
make you to-day a squire of low degree. I pray you, fall to − if you can mock
a leek you can eat a leek. [35]

GOWER
Enough, Captain: you have astonished him.