Sir Thomas.

“Ay; envy of superiority made the angels kick and run restive.”

William Shakspeare.

“May it please your worship! with all my faults, I have ever borne due submission and reverence toward my superiors.”

Sir Thomas.

“Very right! very scriptural!  But most folks do that.  Our duty is not fulfilled unless we bear absolute veneration; unless we are ready to lay down our lives and fortunes at the foot of the throne, and every thing else at the foot of those who administer the laws under virgin majesty.”

William Shakspeare.

“Honoured sir!  I am quite ready to lay down my life and fortune, and all the rest of me, before that great virgin.”

Sir Silas.

“Thy life and fortune, to wit!

“What are they worth?  A June cob-nut, maggot and all.”

Sir Thomas.

“Silas, we will not repudiate nor rebuff his Magdalen, that bringeth a pot of ointment.  Rather let us teach and tutor than twit.  It is a tractable and conducible youth, being in good company.”

Sir Silas.

“Teach and tutor!  Hold hard, sir!  These base varlets ought to be taught but two things:  to bow as beseemeth them to their betters, and to hang perpendicular.  We have authority for it, that no man can add an inch to his stature; but by aid of the sheriff I engage to find a chap who shall add two or three to this whoreson’s.” {133a}

Sir Thomas.

“Nay, nay, now, Silas! the lad’s mother was always held to be an honest woman.”

Sir Silas.

“His mother may be an honest woman for me.”

William Shakspeare.

“No small privilege, by my faith! for any woman in the next parish to thee, Master Silas!”

Sir Silas.

“There again! out comes the filthy runlet from the quagmire, that but now lay so quiet with all its own in it.”

William Shakspeare.

“Until it was trodden on by the ass that could not leap over it.  These, I think, are the words of the fable.”

Sir Thomas.

“They are so.”

Sir Silas.

“What fable?”

Sir Thomas.

“Tush! don’t press him too hard; he wants not wit, but learning.”

Sir Silas.

“He wants a rope’s-end; and a rope’s-end is not enough for him, unless we throw in the other.”

Sir Thomas.

“Peradventure he may be an instrument, a potter’s clay, a type, a token.

“I have seen many young men, and none like unto him.  He is shallow but clear; he is simple, but ingenuous.”

Sir Silas.

“Drag the ford again, then.  In my mind he is as deep as the big tankard; and a mouthful of rough burrage will be the beginning and end of it.”