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FLUELLEN and GOWER enter. |
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| | GOWER |
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Nay, that's right. But why wear you your leek today? Saint |
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Davy's day is past. |
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| GOWER |
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Yes, that's true, but why are you wearing your leek today? Saint Davy's Day has passed. |
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| | FLUELLEN |
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There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all |
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things. I will tell you as my friend, Captain Gower. The |
| 5 |
rascally, scald, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, |
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which you and yourself and all the world know to be no |
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petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is come |
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to me and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and |
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bid me eat my leek. It was in place where I could not breed |
| 10 |
no contention with him, but I will be so bold as to wear it in |
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my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a |
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little piece of my desires. |
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| FLUELLEN |
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There are reasons and causes why and how in everything. I'll tell you as my friend, Captain Gower: that rascally, mean, beggarly, lousy, bragging Pistol, whom you and yourself and all the world know to be no better than a peasant—see—with no good qualities at all: he came to me yesterday and brought me bread and salt and told me to eat my leek. We were somewhere where I couldn't pick a fight with him, but I've decided to wear it in my cap until I see him again, whereupon I'll give him a little piece of my mind. |
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| | GOWER |
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Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock. |
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| GOWER |
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And here he comes, puffing himself up like a turkey. |
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| | FLUELLEN |
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'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his turkey-cocks.— |
| 15 |
God pless you, Aunchient Pistol, you scurvy, lousy knave, |
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God pless you. |
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| FLUELLEN |
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Never mind his puffings and his turkeys. God bless you, Ensign Pistol! You lousy, rotten, villain, God bless you! |
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| | PISTOL |
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Ha, art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Trojan, to have |
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me fold up Parca's fatal web? Hence. I am qualmish at the |
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smell of leek. |
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| PISTOL |
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Are you mad? Do you want me to cut your life short, you deceiving lowlife? Away! The smell of leek turns my stomach. |
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| | FLUELLEN |
| 20 |
I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my desires, |
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and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this |
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leek. Because, look you, you do not love it, nor your |
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affections and your appetites and your digestions does not |
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agree with it, I would desire you to eat it. |
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| FLUELLEN |
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I wonder if you'd be so good, you lousy, rotten villain, to grant my wish and my request and gratify me, see, by eating this leek. I'd like you to, see, because you don't like it, and because it isn't to your taste, and because it doesn't agree with you. |
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