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,— 8
he is come to me and prings me pread and salt
yesterday, look you, and pid me eat my leek. It
was in a place where I could not preed no con-
tention with him; but I will be so pold as to 12
wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and
then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.
Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a
turkey-cock. 16
Enter Pistol.
Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his
turkey-cocks. God pless you, Aunchient Pistol!
you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!
Pist. Ha! art thou bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Troyan, 20
To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
Flu. I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy
knave, at my desires and my requests and my 24
petitions to eat, look you, this leek; pecause,
look you, you do not love it, nor your affections
and your appetites and your digestions does not
agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. 28
Pist. Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.
Flu. There is one goat for you. Strikes him.
Will you be so good, scald knave, as eat it?
Pist. Base Troyan, thou shalt die. 32
Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when
God's will is. I will desire you to live in the
11, 12 preed . . . contention: push a quarrel
20 bedlam: mad
Troyan: Trojan, cant term for rioter
21 Parca: i.e., Parcæ, the Fates
29 Cadwallader: the last of the Welsh kings
