Upon Saint Davy’s day.
Crosses to R.
K. Hen. Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock that about yours.
Pist. Art thou his friend?
K. Hen. And his kinsman too.
Pist. The figo for thee, then!
K. Hen. I thank you: Heaven be with you!
Pist. My name is Pistol call’d.
Exit, R.H.
K. Hen. It sorts[5] well with your fierceness.