PISTOL.
Why then, rejoice therefore.
FLUELLEN.
Certainly, anchient, it is not a thing to rejoice at; for if, look you, he were my brother, I would desire the Duke to use his good pleasure, and put him to execution; for discipline ought to be used.
PISTOL.
Die and be damn’d! and fico for thy friendship!
FLUELLEN.
It is well.
PISTOL.
The fig of Spain.
[Exit.]
FLUELLEN.
Very good.
GOWER.
Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal. I remember him now; a bawd, a cutpurse.
FLUELLEN.
I’ll assure you, ’a uttered as prave words at the pridge as you shall see in a summer’s day. But it is very well; what he has spoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when time is serve.
GOWER.
Why, ’t is a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now and then goes to the wars, to grace himself at his return into London under the form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in the great commanders’ names; and they will learn you by rote where services were done; at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a convoy; who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgrac’d, what terms the enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they trick up with new-tuned oaths: and what a beard of the general’s cut and a horrid suit of the camp will do among foaming bottles and ale-wash’d wits, is wonderful to be thought on. But you must learn to know such slanders of the age, or else you may be marvellously mistook.