PISTOL.
Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips.
Look to my chattels and my movables.
Let senses rule; the word is "Pitch and Pay."
Trust none;
For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes
And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck;
Therefore, Caveto be thy counsellor.
Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms,
Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys,
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!
BOY.
And that's but unwholesome food, they say.
PISTOL.
Touch her soft mouth, and march.
BARDOLPH.
Farewell, hostess.
[Kissing her.]
NYM.
I cannot kiss; that is the humour of it; but, adieu.
PISTOL.
Let housewifery appear. Keep close, I thee command.
HOSTESS.
Farewell; adieu.
[Exeunt.]
