:17:01
he that strikes
the first stroke,
:17:03
I'll run him up to the hilts,
as I'm a soldier.
:17:06
An oath of mickle might,
:17:08
and fury shall abate.
[Footsteps approaching]
:17:12
My host Pistol!
:17:14
You must come to my master,
and you, hostess!
:17:16
He's very sick
and would to bed.
:17:19
Good Bardolph, put thy face between his
sheets and do the office of a warming pan.
:17:23
- Away, you rogue.
- [Sighs]
:17:26
Faith, he's very ill.
:17:32
By my troth,
:17:34
the king has killed his heart.
:17:38
Good husband,
come home presently.
:17:51
[Sighs]
:17:53
Come, shall I make you two friends?
We must to France together.
:17:57
Why the devil should we keep
nives to cut one another's throats?
:18:01
You'll pay me the eight shillings
I won of you at betting?
:18:05
Base is the slave that pays.
:18:09
By this sword,
he that makes the first thrust,
:18:12
I'll kill him,
by this sword, I will.
:18:15
If ever you come of women,
come in quickly to Sir John.
:18:17
He is so shaked with
a burning quotidian fever...
:18:22
that it is most lamentable
to behold.
:18:26
Sweet men, come to him.
:18:30
Poor Sir John.
[Crying]
:18:33
A good portly man of faith.
:18:38
[Men chattering, laughing]
## [Medieval]
:18:42
[Man] Aye, to a cheerful look,
a pleasing eye...
:18:45
and a most noble carriage.
[Laughing continues]
:18:56
But do I not dwindle?
[Laughing continues]
:18:59
My skin hangs about me
like an old lady's loose gown.