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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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SCENE VII. A publick Place near Westminster-Abbey. Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes.

1 Groom.

More rushes, more rushes.

2 Groom.

The trumpets have sounded twice.

1. Groom.

It will be two of the clock ere they come from the Coronation: dispatch, dispatch.

[Exeunt Grooms. Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Bardolph, and the Boy.

Fal.

Stand here by me, master Robert Shallow, I will make the King do you grace: I will leer upon him as he comes by, and do but mark the countenance that he will give me.

Pist.

Bless thy lungs, good Knight.

Fal.

Come here, Pistol, stand behind me. O, if I had had time to have made new liveries, I would have bestow'd the thousand pound I borrow'd of you. But it is no matter, this poor Show doth better; this doth infer the zeal I had to see him.

Shal.

It doth so.

Fal.

It shews my earnestness of affection.

Pist.

It doth so.

Fal.

My devotion.

Pist.

It doth, it doth, it doth.

Fal.

As it were, to ride day and night, and not to deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience to shift me.

Shal.

It is most certain.

Fal.

But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with desire to see him, thinking of nothing else, putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if there were nothing else to be done but to see him.

-- 310 --

Pist.

'Tis semper idem; for absque hoc nihil est. 2 note


'Tis all in all, and all in every part.

Shal.

'Tis so, indeed.

Pist.

My Knight, I will enflame thy noble liver, and make thee rage.


Thy Dol and Helen of thy noble thoughts
Is in base durance and contagious prison;
Haul'd thither by mechanick dirty hands.
Rowze up revenge from Ebon den, with fell Alecto's snake,
For Dol is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth.

Fal.

I will deliver her.

Pist.

There roar'd the sea; and trumpet-clangour sounds.

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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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