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BOB. Indeed, that might be some loss; but who respects it? I will tell you, sir, by the way of private, and under seal; I am a gentleman, and live here obscure, and to myself. But, were I known to her Majesty and the Lords,―observe me,-I would undertake-upon this poor head, and life-for the public benefit of the state, not only to spare the entire lives of her subjects in general, but to save the one half, nay, three parts of her yearly charge in holding war, and against what enemy soever. And how would I do it, think you? E. KN. Nay, I know not, nor can I conceive. Bов. Why thus, sir. I would select nineteen more, to myself, throughout the land; gentlemen they should be, of good spirit, strong, and able constitution ; I would choose them by an instinct, a character that I have: and I would teach these nineteen, the special rules, as your punto, your reverso, your stoccata, your imbroccata, your passada, your montanto; till they could all play very near, or altogether as well as myself. This done, say the enemy were forty thousand strong, we twenty would come into the field, the tenth of March, or thereabouts; and we would challenge twenty of the enemy; they could not, in their honour, refuse us, well, we would kill them; challenge twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them; twenty more, kill them too; and thus, would we kill every man, his twenty a day, that's twenty score; twenty score, that 's two hundred two hundred a day, five days a thousand; forty thousand; forty times five, five times forty, two hundred days kills them all up, by cumputation.

;

And this, will I venture my poor gentleman-like carcase to perform (provided there be no treason practised upon us) by fair, and discreet manhood, that is, civilly by the sword.

E. KN. Why, are you so sure of your hand, captain, at all times?

BOB. Tut! never miss thrust, upon my reputation with you.

VI

Ancient Pistol brings news

PISTOL. Sir John, God save you !

FALSTAFF. What wind blew you hither, Pistol? PIST. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm.

SILENCE. By 'r lady, I think a' be, but goodman Puff of Barson.

PIST. Puff!

Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base !
Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend,
And helter-skelter have I rode to thee,
And tidings do I bring and lucky joys
And golden times and happy news of price.

FAL. I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world.

PIST. A foutre for the world and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys.

FAL. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof.

SIL. And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.

(Singing.)

PIST. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? And shall good news be baffled ?

Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.

SHALLOW. Honest gentlemen, I know not your breeding.

PIST. Why then, lament therefore.

SHAL. Give me pardon, sir: if, sir, you come with news from the court, I take it there's but two ways, either to utter them, or to conceal them. am, sir, under the king, in some authority.

I

PIST. Under which king, Besonian? speak, or die.

SHAL. Under King Harry.

PIST.

Harry the fourth? or fifth?

SHAL. Harry the fourth.

PIST.

A foutre for thine office!

Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king;
Harry the fifth 's the man. I speak the truth :
When Pistol lies, do this; and fig me, like
The bragging Spaniard.

FAL. What, is the old king dead?

PIST. As nail in door: the things I speak are just.

FAL. Away, Bardolph! saddle my horse. Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double charge thee with dignities.

BARDOLPH. O joyful day!

I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.
PIST. What! I do bring good news.

FAL. Carry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my Lord Shallow,-be what thou wilt; I am fortune's steward-get on thy boots: we'll

ride all night. O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph! Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal devise something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master Shallow! I know the young king is sick for me. Let us take any man's horses; the laws of England are at my commandment. Blessed are they that have been my friends; and woe to my lord chief justice!

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PIST. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! Where is the life that late I led ?

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say they : Why, here it is; welcome these pleasant days!

DID

VII

Corporal Trim answers the bell

ID ever man, brother Toby, cried my father, raising himself upon his elbow, and turning himself round to the opposite side of the bed, where my uncle Toby was sitting in his old fringed chair, with his chin resting upon his crutch-did ever a poor unfortunate man, brother Toby, cried my father, receive so many lashes?—The most I ever saw given, quoth my uncle Toby (ringing the bell at the bed's head for Trim) was to a grenadier, I think in Mackay's regiment.

-Had my uncle Toby shot a bullet through my father's heart, he could not have fallen down with his nose upon the quilt more suddenly.

-Bless me! said my uncle Toby.

-Was it Mackay's regiment, quoth my uncle Toby, where the poor grenadier was so unmercifully whipped at Bruges about the ducats?-O Christ! he was innocent! cried Trim, with a

deep sigh. And he was whipped, may it please your honour, almost to death's door. They had better have shot him outright, as he begged, and he had gone directly to heaven, for he was as innocent as your honour.-I thank thee, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby.-I never think of his, continued Trim, and my poor brother Tom's misfortunes, for we were all three schoolfellows, but I cry like a coward.-Tears are no proof of cowardice, Trim.-I drop them oft-times myself, cried my uncle Toby.-I know your honour does, replied Trim, and so am not ashamed of it myself. -But to think, may it please your honour, continued Trim, a tear stealing into the corner of his eye as he spoke to think of two virtuous lads with hearts as warm in their bodies, and as honest as God could make them-the children of honest people, going forth with gallant spirits to seek their fortunes in the world-and fall into such evils !

poor Tom! to be tortured upon a rack for nothing

but marrying a Jew's widow who sold sausages -honest Dick Johnson's soul to be scourged out of his body, for the ducats another man put into his knapsack !-O !—these are misfortunes, cried Trim,-pulling out his handkerchief-these are misfortunes, may it please your honour, worth lying down and crying over.

-My father could not help blushing.

-Twould be a pity, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, thou shouldst ever feel sorrow of thy own -thou feelest it so tenderly for others.-Alacko-day, replied the Corporal, brightening up his face -your honour knows I have neither wife or child

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