By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away tonight.

What, Davy, I say!

You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow.

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 excused.

Why, Davy!

Here, sir.

Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy, let me see, Davy, let me see.

Yea, marry, William cook, bid him come hither. Sir John, you shall not

be excused.

Marry, sir, thus: those precepts cannot be served; and again, sir—shall

we sow the hade land with wheat?

With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook, are there no young pigeons?

Yes, sir. Here is now the smith’s note for shoeing and plough-irons.

Let it be cast and paid. Sir John, you shall not be excused.

Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had. And, sir, do you

mean to stop any of William’s wages, about the sack he lost the other

day at Hinckley fair?

He shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple of short-legged hens,

a joint of mutton, and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William

cook.

Doth the man of war stay all night, sir?

Yea, 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 backbite.

No worse than they are backbitten, sir, for they have marvellous foul

linen.

Well conceited, Davy. About thy business, Davy.

I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of Woncot against

Clement Perkes o’ th’ hill.

There is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor. That Visor is an

arrant knave, on my knowledge.

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 served your worship truly, sir, this eight years; and if I cannot

once or twice in a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I

have but a very little credit with your worship. The knave is mine

honest friend, sir; therefore I beseech your worship let him be

countenanced.

Go to; I say he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy.

Where are you, Sir John? Come, come, come, off with your boots.

Give me your hand, Master Bardolph.

I am glad to see your worship.

I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master Bardolph; and welcome, my

tall fellow [_to the Page_]. Come, Sir John.

I’ll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow.

Bardolph, look to our horses.

If I were sawed into quantities, I should make four dozen of such

bearded hermits’ staves as Master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to

see the semblable coherence of his men’s spirits and his. They, by

observing of him, do bear themselves like foolish justices: he, by

conversing with them, is turned into a justice-like serving-man. 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 Harry 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!

[_Within_.] Sir John!

I come, Master Shallow, I come, Master Shallow.