Shallow monologue — King Henry IV, Part 2

Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, sir; give me your hand, sir. An early stirrer, by the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence? SILENCE. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. SHALLOW. And how doth my cousin, your bed-fellow? and your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen? SILENCE. Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow! SHALLOW. By yea and no, sir. I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar; he is at Oxford still, is he not? SILENCE. Indeed, sir, to my cost. SHALLOW. 'A must, then, to the Inns o' Court shortly. I was once of Clement's Inn; where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet. SILENCE. You were call'd 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin. SHALLOW. By the mass, I was call'd anything; and I would have done anything indeed too, and roundly too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotsole 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-robas were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. SILENCE. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers? SHALLOW. The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break Scoggin's head at the court gate, when 'a was a crack not thus high; and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! and to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead! SILENCE. We shall all follow, cousin. SHALLOW. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure. Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair? SILENCE. By my troth, I was not there. SHALLOW. Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet? SILENCE. Dead, sir. SHALLOW. Jesu, Jesu, dead! drew a good bow; and dead! 'A shot a fine shoot. John a Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! 'A would have clapp'd i' th' clout at twelve score, and carried you a forehand 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? SILENCE. Thereafter as they be--a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds. SHALLOW. And is old Double dead?