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MOULDY.

Spent!

SHALLOW.

Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; know you where you are?

For th' other, Sir John- let me see. Simon Shadow!

FALSTAFF.

Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He's like to be a cold soldier.

SHALLOW.

Where's Shadow?

SHADOW.

Here, sir.

FALSTAFF.

Shadow, whose son art thou?

SHADOW.

My mother's son, sir.

FALSTAFF.

Thy mother's son! Like enough; and thy father's shadow.

So the son of the female is the shadow of the male. It is often

so indeed; but much of the father's substance!

SHALLOW.

Do you like him, Sir John?

FALSTAFF.

Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him; for we have a

number of shadows fill up the muster-book.

SHALLOW.

Thomas Wart!

FALSTAFF.

Where's he?

WART.

Here, sir.

FALSTAFF.

Is thy name Wart?

WART.

Yea, sir.

FALSTAFF.

Thou art a very ragged wart.

SHALLOW.

Shall I prick him, Sir John?

FALSTAFF.

It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his

back, and the whole frame stands upon pins. Prick him no more.

SHALLOW.

Ha, ha, ha! You can do it, sir; you can do it. I commend

you well. Francis Feeble!

FEEBLE.

Here, sir.

FALSTAFF.

What trade art thou, Feeble?

FEEBLE.

A woman's tailor, sir.

SHALLOW.

Shall I prick him, sir?

FALSTAFF.

You may; but if he had been a man's tailor, he'd ha'

prick'd you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle as

thou hast done in a woman's petticoat?

FEEBLE.

I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more.

FALSTAFF.

Well said, good woman's tailor! well said, courageous

Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most

magnanimous mouse. Prick the woman's tailor- well, Master

Shallow, deep, Master Shallow.

FEEBLE.

I would Wart might have gone, sir.

FALSTAFF.

I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou mightst mend

him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private

soldier, that is the leader of so many thousands. Let that

suffice, most forcible Feeble.

FEEBLE.

It shall suffice, sir.

FALSTAFF.

I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next?

SHALLOW.

Peter Bullcalf o' th' green!

FALSTAFF.

Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf.

BULLCALF.

Here, sir.

FALSTAFF.

Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf till he roar again.

BULLCALF.

O Lord! good my lord captain-

FALSTAFF.

What, dost thou roar before thou art prick'd?

BULLCALF.

O Lord, sir! I am a diseased man.

FALSTAFF.

What disease hast thou?

BULLCALF.

A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caught with

ringing in the King's affairs upon his coronation day, sir.

FALSTAFF.

Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will have

away thy cold; and I will take such order that thy friends shall

ring for thee. Is here all?

SHALLOW.

Here is two more call'd than your number. You must have

but four here, sir; and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner.

FALSTAFF.

Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry

dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow.

SHALLOW.

O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the

windmill in Saint George's Field?

FALSTAFF.

No more of that, Master Shallow, no more of that.

SHALLOW.

Ha, 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive?

FALSTAFF.

She lives, Master Shallow.

SHALLOW.

She never could away with me.

FALSTAFF.

Never, never; she would always say she could not abide

Master Shallow.

SHALLOW.

By the mass, I could anger her to th' heart. She was then

a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?

FALSTAFF.

Old, old, Master Shallow.

SHALLOW.

Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old;

certain she's old; and had Robin Nightwork, by old Nightwork,

before I came to Clement's Inn.

SILENCE.

That's fifty-five year ago.

SHALLOW.

Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this

knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well?

FALSTAFF.

We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.

SHALLOW.

That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith,

Sir

John, we have. Our watchword was