Save you, Master Doctor Caius!
PAGE. Now, good Master Doctor!
SLENDER. Give you good morrow, sir.
CAIUS. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for?
HOST. To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee
traverse;
to see thee here, to see thee there; to see thee pass thy
punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant.
Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Francisco? Ha,
bully! What says my Aesculapius? my Galen? my heart
of elder? Ha! is he dead, bully stale? Is he dead?
CAIUS. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of de world; he is
not show his face.
HOST. Thou art a Castalion-King-Urinal. Hector of Greece,
my boy!
CAIUS. I pray you, bear witness that me have stay six or
seven, two tree hours for him, and he is no come.
SHALLOW. He is the wiser man, Master Doctor: he is a curer
of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should fight,
you go against the hair of your professions. Is it not true,
Master Page?
PAGE. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter,
though now a man of peace.
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