Speeches (Lines) for Pistol in "History of Henry IV, Part II"

Mistress Quickly. Do I? Yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen
cannot abide swagg'rers.

Pistol. God save you, Sir John!

Falstaff. Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you
a cup of sack; do you discharge upon mine hostess.

Pistol. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.

Mistress Quickly. Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets. I'll drink
more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I.

Pistol. Then to you, Mistress Dorothy; I will charge you.

Doll Tearsheet. 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.

Pistol. I know you, Mistress Dorothy.

Doll Tearsheet. Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By
wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play
saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you
basket-hilt stale juggler, you! Since when, I pray you, sir?
God's light, with two points on your shoulder? Much!

Pistol. God let me not live but I will murder your ruff for

Falstaff. Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll.

Pistol. Not I! I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could
her; I'll be reveng'd of her.

Page. Pray thee go down.

Pistol. I'll see her damn'd first; to Pluto's damn'd lake, by
hand, to th' infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile
Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs! down, faitors!
we not Hiren here?

Mistress Quickly. Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late, i'
beseek you now, aggravate your choler.

Pistol. These be good humours, indeed! Shall packhorses,
And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,
Which cannot go but thirty mile a day,
Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals,
And Troiant Greeks? Nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar.
Shall we fall foul for toys?

Bardolph. Be gone, good ancient; this will grow to a brawl

Pistol. Die men like dogs! Give crowns like pins! Have we not
here?

Mistress Quickly. O' my word, Captain, there's none such here. What the
good-year! do you think I would deny her? For God's sake, be
quiet.

Pistol. Then feed and be fat, my fair Calipolis.
Come, give's some sack.
'Si fortune me tormente sperato me contento.'
Fear we broadsides? No, let the fiend give fire.
Give me some sack; and, sweetheart, lie thou there.
[Laying down his sword]
Come we to full points here, and are etceteras nothings?

Falstaff. Pistol, I would be quiet.

Pistol. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf. What! we have seen the
stars.

Doll Tearsheet. For God's sake thrust him down stairs; I cannot endure
fustian rascal.

Pistol. Thrust him down stairs! Know we not Galloway nags?

Bardolph. Come, get you down stairs.

Pistol. What! shall we have incision? Shall we imbrue?
[Snatching up his sword]
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days!
Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say!

Falstaff. From the court? Let him come in.
[Enter PISTOL]
How now, Pistol?

Pistol. Sir John, God save you!

Falstaff. What wind blew you hither, Pistol?

Pistol. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet
thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm.

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

Pistol. 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.

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

Pistol. A foutra for the world and worldlings base!
I speak of Africa and golden joys.

Silence. [Singing] And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.

Pistol. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons?
And shall good news be baffled?
Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.

Robert Shallow. Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding.

Pistol. Why, then, lament therefore.

Robert Shallow. Give me pardon, sir. If, sir, you come with news from
court, I take it there's but two ways--either to utter them
conceal them. I am, sir, under the King, in some authority.

Pistol. Under which king, Bezonian? Speak, or die.

Robert Shallow. Under King Harry.

Pistol. Harry the Fourth--or Fifth?

Robert Shallow. Harry the Fourth.

Pistol. A foutra 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.

Falstaff. What, is the old king dead?

Pistol. As nail in door. The things I speak are just.

Bardolph. O joyful day!
I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.

Pistol. What, I do bring good news?

Falstaff. Carry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my Lord
Shallow, be what thou wilt--I am Fortune's steward. Get on
boots; we'll ride all night. O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph!
[Exit BARDOLPH] Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal
devise something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master
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
they that have been my friends; and woe to my Lord Chief

Pistol. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also!
'Where is the life that late I led?' say they.
Why, here it is; welcome these pleasant days! Exeunt

Falstaff. Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow; I will make the
King do you grace. I will leer upon him, as 'a comes by; and do
but mark the countenance that he will give me.

Pistol. God bless thy lungs, good knight!

Falstaff. But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with
desire to see him; thinking of nothing else, putting all
else in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done
see him.

Pistol. 'Tis 'semper idem' for 'obsque hoc nihil est.' 'Tis all
every part.

Robert Shallow. 'Tis so, indeed.

Pistol. My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver
And make thee rage.
Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts,
Is in base durance and contagious prison;
Hal'd thither
By most mechanical and dirty hand.
Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto's snake,
For Doll is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth.

Falstaff. I will deliver her.

Pistol. There roar'd the sea, and trumpet-clangor sounds.

Falstaff. God save thy Grace, King Hal; my royal Hal!

Pistol. The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of

Lord Chief Justice. I cannot now speak. I will hear you soon.
Take them away.

Pistol. Si fortuna me tormenta, spero me contenta.