FALSTAFF.
Yea, and so used it that were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent—But I prithee sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? And resolution thus fubbed as it is with the rusty curb of old father Antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.
PRINCE.
No, thou shalt.
FALSTAFF.
Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I’ll be a brave judge.
PRINCE.
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 humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.
PRINCE.
For obtaining of suits?
FALSTAFF.
Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. ’Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat or a lugged bear.
PRINCE.
Or an old lion, or a lover’s lute.
FALSTAFF.
Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.
PRINCE.
What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?