On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach!

Farewell, hostess.

Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire:
that's all the riches I got in his service.

And of women.

Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in
heaven or in hell!

Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends:
an thou wilt not, why, then, be enemies with me too.
Prithee, put up.

By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I'll
kill him; by this sword, I will.

Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to
France together: why the devil should we keep
knives to cut one another's throats?

Away, you rogue!

Hear me, hear me what I say: he that strikes the
first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier.

Good lieutenant! good corporal! offer nothing here.

Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife: good
corporal, be patient here. How now, mine host Pistol!

It is certain, corporal, that he is married to Nell
Quickly: and certainly she did you wrong; for you
were troth-plight to her.

I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and
we'll be all three sworn brothers to France: let it
be so, good Corporal Nym.

What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet?

Well met, Corporal Nym.