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Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
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Scene 1 SCENE, Shallow's Seat in Glostershire. Enter Shallow, Silence, Falstaff, Bardolph, and Page.

Shallow.

By cock and pye, Sir, you shall not away to night. What! Davy, I say—

Fal.

You must excuse me, master Robert Shallow.

Shal.

I will not excuse you: you shall not be excused. Excuses shall not be admitted: there is no excuse shall serve: you shall not be excus'd. Why, Davy,—

Enter Davy.

Davy.

Here, Sir.

Shal.

Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy, let me see; yea, marry, William Cook, bid him come hither.— Sir John, you shall not be excus'd.

Davy.

Marry, Sir, thus: those precepts cannot be serv'd; and, again, Sir, shall we sow the head-land with wheat?

Shal.

With red wheat, Davy. But, for William Cook,—are there no young Pidgeons?

Davy.

Yea, Sir—Here is now the Smith's note for shooing, and plow-irons.

Shal.

Let it be cast and paid—Sir John, you shall not be excus'd.

Davy.

Now, Sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had. And, Sir, do you mean to stop any of

-- 525 --

William's wages about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckly Fair?

Shal.

He shall answer it. Some Pidgeons, Davy, a couple of short-legg'd Hens, a joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws: tell William Cook.

Davy.

Doth the man of war stay all night, Sir?

Shal.

Yes, Davy. I will use him well. A friend i' th' Court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy, for they are arrant knaves, and will back-bite.

Davy.

No worse than they are back-bitten, Sir; for they have marvellous foul linnen.

Shal.

Well conceited, Davy. About thy business, Davy.

Davy.

I beseech you, Sir, to countenance William Visor of Woncot against Clement Perkes of the hill.

Shal.

There are many complaints, Davy, against that Visor; that Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge.

Davy.

I grant your Worship, that he is a knave, Sir; but yet God forbid, Sir, but a knave should have some countenance at his friend's request. An honest man, Sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not. I have serv'd your Worship truly, Sir, these eight years; and if I cannot once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I have but very little credit with your Worship. The knave is mine honest friend, Sir, therefore I beseech your Worship let him be countenanc'd.

Shal.

Go to, I say, he shall have no wrong: look about, Davy. Where are you, Sir John? come, off with your boots. Give me your hand, master Bardolph.

Bard.

I am glad to see your Worship.

Shal.

I thank thee with all my heart, kind master Bardolph; and welcome, my tall fellow; [To the Page.] Come, Sir John.

Fal.

I'll follow you, good master Robert Shallow. [Exeunt Shallow, Silence, &c.] Bardolph, look to our

-- 526 --

horses.—If I were saw'd into quantities, I should make four dozen of such bearded-hermites-staves as master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable coherence of his mens spirits and his: they, by observing of him, do bear themselves like foolish justices; he, by conversing with them, is turn'd into a justice-like servingman. Their spirits are so married in conjunction, with the participation of society, that they flock together in consent like so many wild Geese. If I had a suit to master Shallow, I would humour his men with the imputation of being near their master: If to his men, I would curry with master Shallow, that no man could better command his servants. It is certain, that either wise Bearing or ignorant Carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of another: therefore let men take heed of their company. I will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to keep Prince Henry in continual laughter the wearing out of six fashions, which is four terms or two actions, and he shall laugh without Intervallums. O, it is much, that a lie with a slight oath, and a jest with a sad brow, will do with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders. O, you shall see him laugh, till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up.

Shal. [within.]

Sir John

Fal.

I come, master Shallow; I come, master Shallow.

Exit Falstaff.

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Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
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