NYM.
I have operations in my head which be humours of revenge.

PISTOL.
Wilt thou revenge?

NYM.
By welkin and her star!

PISTOL.
With wit or steel?

NYM.
With both the humours, I:
I will discuss the humour of this love to Page.

PISTOL.
And I to Ford shall eke unfold
How Falstaff, varlet vile,
His dove will prove, his gold will hold,
And his soft couch defile.

NYM.
My humour shall not cool: I will incense Page to deal with poison;
I will possess him with yellowness, for the revolt of mine is
dangerous: that is my true humour.

PISTOL.
Thou art the Mars of malcontents; I second thee; troop on.