WESTMORELAND.
I will, my liege.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. The same. An Apartment of Prince Henry’s.
Enter Prince Henry and Sir John Falstaff.
FALSTAFF.
Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
PRINCE.
Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.
FALSTAFF.
Indeed, you come near me now, Hal, for we that take purses go by the moon and the seven stars, and not by Phœbus, he, that wand’ring knight so fair. And I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king, as God save thy Grace—Majesty I should say, for grace thou wilt have none—
PRINCE.
What, none?
FALSTAFF.
No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.
PRINCE.
Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly.