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. FALSTAFF. Marry then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that are squires of the night’s body be called thieves of the day’s beauty: let us be Diana’s foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon; and let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal. PRINCE. Thou sayest well, and it holds well too, for the fortune of us that are the moon’s men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, by the moon. As for proof now: a purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning, got with swearing “Lay by” and spent with crying “Bring in”; now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows. FALSTAFF. By the Lord, thou say’st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? PRINCE. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? FALSTAFF. How now, how now, mad wag? What, in thy quips and thy quiddities? What a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin? PRINCE. 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. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? FALSTAFF. No, I’ll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. PRINCE. 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 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?