Sil. We shall all follow, cousin.
Shal. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure: death,
as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How[3878]
a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?[3879]35
Sil. By my troth, I was not there.[3880]
Shal. Death is certain. Is old Double of your town
living yet?
Sil. Dead, sir.
Shal. Jesu, Jesu, dead! a' drew a good bow; and[3881]40
dead! a' shot a fine shoot: John a Gaunt loved him well,[3882]
and betted much money on his head. Dead! a' would have
clapped i' the clout at twelve score; and carried you a fore-hand
shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would[3883]
have done a man's heart good to see. How a score of ewes45
now?
Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may
be worth ten pounds.
Shal. And is old Double dead?
Sil. Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I think.50
Enter Bardolph and one with him.[3884]