Dol. Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy companion. What!
you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away,
you mouldy rogue, away! I am meat for your master.
Pist. I know you, Mistress Dorothy.115
Dol. Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung,
away! by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy
chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you[3697]
bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you! Since
when, I pray you, sir? God's light, with two points on[3698]120
your shoulder? much![3699]
Pist. God let me not live, but I will murder your ruff[3700]
for this.
Fal. No more, Pistol; I would not have you go off[3701]
here: discharge yourself of our company, Pistol.[3701]125
Host. No, good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain.
Dol. Captain! thou abominable damned cheater, art
thou not ashamed to be called captain? An captains were[3702]
of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for taking[3703]
their names upon you before you have earned them. You130
a captain! you slave, for what? for tearing a poor whore's
ruff in a bawdy-house? He a captain! hang him, rogue!
he lives upon mouldy stewed prunes and dried cakes. A
captain! God's light, these villains will make the word as[3704][3705]
odious as the word 'occupy;' which was an excellent good[3705]135
word before it was ill sorted: therefore captains had need[3705]
look to't.[3706]
Bard. Pray thee, go down, good ancient.
Fal. Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.
Pist. Not I: I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I140
could tear her: I'll be revenged of her.[3707]