Alice. De neck, madame. Kath. De neck: Et le menton? Alice. De chin. Kath. De sin. Le col, de neck: le menton, de sin. Alice. Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur; en verité, vous prononces les mots aussi droict que les natifs d'Angle terre. Kath. Je ne doute point d'apprendre par la grace® de Dieu; et en peu de temps. Alice. N'avez vous pas deja oublié ce que je vous ay enseignée ? Kath. Non, je reciteray, à vous promptement. De hand, de fingre, de mails, Alice. De nails, madame. Kath. De nails, de arme, de ilbow. Kath. Ainsi dis je; de elbow, de neck, et de sin: Kath. De foot, et de con? O Seigneur Dieu! ces sont mots de son mauvais, corruptible, grosse, et impudique, et non pour les dames d'honneur d'user: Je ne voudrois prononcer ces mots devant les Seigneurs de France, pour tout le monde. Il faut de foot, et de con, neant-moins. Je reciterai une autre fois ma leçon ensemble: De hand, de fingre, de nails, de arm, de elbow, de neck, de sin, de foot, de con. Alice. Excellent, madame ! Kath. C'est assez pour une fois; allons nous a disner. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-The same. Another room in the same. Enter the French King, the Dauphin, Duke of Bourbon, the Constable of France, and Others. Fr. King. "Tis certain, he hath pass'd the river Some. Con. And if he be not fought withal, my lord, Dau. O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays And overlook their grafters? of us, Bour. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards! Mort de ma vie ! if they march along Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom, In that nook-shotten isle of Albion. Con. Dieu de battailes! where have they this Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull? Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people Our madams mock at us; and plainly say, To new-store France with bastard warriors. Bour. They bid us-to the English dancing-schools, And teach lavoltas high, and swift corantos: Saying, our grace is only in our heels, And that we are most lofty runaways. Fr. King. Where is Montjoy, the herald? speed him hence; Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.— High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights, Bring him our prisoner. Con. This becomes the great. Sorry am I, his numbers are so few, His soldiers sick, and famish'd in their march; And let him say to England, that we send Fr. King. Be patient, for you shall remain with us. Now, forth, lord constable, and princes all; And quickly bring us word of England's fall. [Exeunt. SCENE VI.-The English camp in Picardy. Enter GOWER and FLUEllen. Gow. How now, captain Fluellen? come you from the bridge? Flu. I assure you, there is very excellent service committed at the pridge. Gow. Is the duke of Exeter safe? Flu. The duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon; and a man, that I love and honour with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and my life, and my livings, and my uttermost powers: he is not (God be praised, and plessed!) any hurt in the 'orld; but keeps the pridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an ensign there at the pridge, I think, in my very conscience, he is as valiant as Mark Antony; and he is a man of no estimation in the 'orld: but I did see him do gallant service. Gow. What do you call him? Flu. He is called-ancient Pistol. Enter PISTOL. Flu. Do you not know him? Here comes the man. Pist. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours: The duke of Exeter doth love thee well. Flu. Ay, I praise Got; and I have merited some love at his hands. Pist. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart, Of buxom valour, hath,-by cruel fate, And giddy fortune's furious fickle wheel, That goddess blind, That stands upon the rolling restless stone, Flu. By your patience, ancient Pistol. Fortune is painted plind, with a muffler before her eyes, to signify to you, that fortune is plind: And she is painted also with a wheel; to signify to you, which is the moral of it, that she is turning, and inconstant, and variations, and mutabilities: and her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls;-In good truth, the poet is make a most excellent description of fortune: fortune, look you, is an excellent moral. Pist. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him; Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free, Therefore, go speak, the duke will hear thy voice; Pist. Why then rejoice therefore. Flu. Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to rejoice at: for if, look you, he were my brother, I would desire the duke to use his goot pleasure, and put him to executions; for disciplines ought to be used. Pist. Die and be damn'd; and figo for thy friendship! Flu. It is well. Pist. The fig of Spain! Flu. Very good. [Exit Pistol. Gow. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; I remember him now; a bawd; a cutpurse. Flu. I'll assure you, 'a utter'd as prave 'ords at the pridge, as you shall see in a summer's day: But it is |