ACT I.
2. SCENE II. London. A street.
(continued)
CHIEF JUSTICE.
Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy.
FALSTAFF.
He that buckles himself in my belt cannot live in less.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
Your means are very slender, and your waste is great.
FALSTAFF.
I would it were otherwise; I would my means were greater,
and my waist slenderer.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
You have misled the youthful prince.
FALSTAFF.
The young prince hath misled me: I am the fellow with the
great belly, and he my dog.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound: your day's service
at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night's exploit
on Gad's-hill: you may thank the unquiet time for your quiet
o'er-posting that action.
FALSTAFF.
My lord?
CHIEF JUSTICE.
But since all is well, keep it so: wake not a sleeping wolf.
FALSTAFF.
To wake a wolf is as bad as smell a fox.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
What! you are as a candle, the better part burnt out.
FALSTAFF.
A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow: if I did say of wax, my
growth would approve the truth.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
There is not a white hair in your face but should have his
effect of gravity.
FALSTAFF.
His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.
CHIEF JUSTICE.
You follow the young prince up and down, like his ill angel.
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