Shal.

Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, Sir; an early stirrer, by the † ^noterood. And how doth my good cousin Silence?

Sil.

Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.

Shal.

And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow? and your fairest daughter, and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?

Sil.

Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.

Shal.

By yea and nay, Sir, I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar? he is at Oxford still, is he not?

Sil.

Indeed, Sir, to my cost.

Shal.

He must then to the Inns of court shortly: I was once of Clement's-Inn; where, I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet.

Sil.

You were call'd lusty Shallow then, cousin.

Shal.

I was call'd any thing, and I would have done any thing indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Bare, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cot'swold man, you had not four such swinge-bucklers in all the Inns of court again: and I may say to you, we knew where the Bona-Roba's were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, (now Sir John, boy) a page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.

Sil.

This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about Soldiers?

Shal.

The same Sir John, the very same: I saw him break Schoggan's head at the court-gate, when he was a crack, not thus

high; and the very same day I did fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Grays-Inn. Oh the mad days that I have spent! and to see how many of mine old acquaintance are dead?

Sil.

We shall all follow, cousin.

Shal.

Certain, 'tis certain, very sure, very sure: death ^{b note}(as the Psalmist saith) is certain to all, all shall die. How a good yoke of Bullocks at Stamford fair?

Sil.

Truly, cousin, I was not there.

Shal.

Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet?

Sil.

Dead, Sir.

Shal.

Dead! see, see, he drew a good bow: and dead? he shot a fine shoot. John of Gaunt loved him well, and betted much mony on his head. Dead! He would have clapt in the clowt at twelve score, and carried you a fore-hand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see. How a score of ewes now?

Sil.

Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds.

Shal.

And is old Double dead?