Fal. Prick him. Moul. I was pricked well enough before, an you 120 could have let me alone: my old dame will be undone now, for one to do her husbandry and her drudgery: you need not to have pricked me; there are other men fitter to go out than I. Fal. Go to: peace, Mouldy; you shall go. Mouldy, it is time you were spent. Moul. Spent! Shal. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside: know you where you are? For the other, Sir John: let me see: Simon Shadow! Fal. Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under: he's like to be a cold soldier. Shal. Where's Shadow? Shad. Here, sir. Fal. Shadow, whose son art thou? Shad. My mother's son, sir. Fal. 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! Shal. Do you like him, Sir John? Fal. Shadow will serve for summer; prick him, for we have a number of shadows to fill up the muster-book. Shal. Thomas Wart! Fal. Where's he? Wart. Here, sir. Fal. Is thy name Wart? Wart. Yea, sir. Fal. Thou art a very ragged wart. 130 140 Shal. Shall I prick him down, Sir John? Fal. It were superfluous; for his apparel is built Shal. Ha, ha, ha! you can do it, sir; you can do it: Fee. Here, sir. Shal. What trade art thou, Feeble? Fee. A woman's tailor, sir. Shal. Shall I prick him, sir? Fal. You may: but if he had been a man's tailor, he 'ad ha' pricked you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat? Fee. I will do my good will, sir: you can have no more. 160 Fal. 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; 170 deep, Master Shallow. Fee. I would Wart might have gone, sir. Fal. I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou mightst mend him and make him fit to go. I Fee. It shall suffice, sir. Fal. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next. Shal. Peter Bullcalf o' the green! Fal. Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf. 180 Bull. Here, sir. Fal. 'Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bull. O Lord! good my lord captain, Fal. What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked? Fal. What disease hast thou? Bull. A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I 190 caught with ringing in the king's affairs upon his coronation-day, sir. Fal. 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? Shal. Here is two more called than your number; you must have but four here, sir: and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner. Fal. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my 200 troth, Master Shallow. Shal. O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the windmill in Saint George's field? Fal. No more of that, Good Master Shallow, no more of that. Shal. Ha! 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive? Fal. She lives, Master Shallow. Fal. Never, never; she would always say she could 210 not abide Master Shallow. Shal. By the mass, I could anger her to the heart. She was then a bona-roba. own well? Doth she hold her |