Prince Henry. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?
Falstaff. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft.
Prince Henry. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?
Falstaff. No, I’ll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.
Prince Henry. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and where it would not I have used my credit.
Falstaff. Yea, and so used it, that, were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent,—But, I pr’ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.
Prince Henry. No; thou shalt.
Falstaff. Shall I? Oh, rare! By the Lord, I’ll be a brave judge.
Prince Henry. Thou judgest false already; I mean thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.
Falstaff. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humor, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.