CORPORAL. Nonsense! The king is a boy—a mere boy—of seventy! But he does meddle with the women sometimes.
HAROLD.
Say you so?
CORPORAL. Ay, and old ones too. It was but the other day that he pensioned a poor widow, whose only son fell in a skirmish at his side. Heaven bless his old cocked hat!
HAROLD. Yes is it not singular that one so mindful of the rights of old women should compel the young ones to toil as they do in the factory?
CORPORAL. Tush, tush, man!—that's none of your concern, nor mine. What have we to do with state affairs?
HAROLD. Right, corporal; and it's not worth while for us to trouble our heads about other people's business.
CORPORAL.
You're a sensible fellow—
HAROLD. Right again; and I would return the compliment if you did not wear such a flashy watch-riband (looks at it.)
CORPORAL.
That's personal!
HAROLD.
I mean it to be so. What the devil do you wear it for?