THE SAME. SCENE II. THE SAME. Enter Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy Bardolph On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach! Nym Pray thee, corporal, stay: the knocks are too hot; and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives: the humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain-song of it. Pistol The plain-song is most just: for humours do abound:Knocks go and come; God’s vassals drop and die;And sword and shield,In bloody field,Doth win immortal fame. Boy Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety. Pistol And I:If wishes would prevail with me,My purpose should not fail with me,But thither would I hie. Boy As duly, but not as truly,As bird doth sing on bough. Enter Fluellen Fluellen Up to the breach, you dogs! avaunt, you cullions!
