NYM.
You’ll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting?
PISTOL.
Base is the slave that pays.
NYM.
That now I will have: that’s the humour of it.
PISTOL.
As manhood shall compound. Push home.
[They draw.]
BARDOLPH.
By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I’ll kill him; by this sword, I will.
PISTOL.
Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.
BARDOLPH.
Corporal Nym, and thou wilt be friends, be friends; an thou wilt not, why, then, be enemies with me too. Prithee, put up.
NYM.
I shall have my eight shillings I won from you at betting?
PISTOL.
A noble shalt thou have, and present pay;
And liquor likewise will I give to thee,
And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood.
I’ll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me.
Is not this just? For I shall sutler be
Unto the camp, and profits will accrue.
Give me thy hand.