[Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off.]



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,