Wel, the truth is (sir Iohn) you liue in great infamy
Fal. He that buckles him in my belt, ca[n]not liue in lesse
Iust. Your Meanes is very slender, and your wast great
Fal. I would it were otherwise: I would my Meanes
were greater, and my waste slenderer
Iust. You haue misled the youthfull Prince
Fal. The yong Prince hath misled mee. I am the Fellow
with the great belly, and he my Dogge
Iust. Well, I am loth to gall a new-heal'd wound: your
daies seruice at Shrewsbury, hath a little gilded ouer
your Nights exploit on Gads-hill. You may thanke the
vnquiet time, for your quiet o're-posting that Action
Fal. My Lord?
Iust. But since all is wel, keep it so: wake not a sleeping Wolfe
Fal. To wake a Wolfe, is as bad as to smell a Fox
Iu. What? you are as a candle, the better part burnt out
Fal. A Wassell-Candle, my Lord; all Tallow: if I did
say of wax, my growth would approue the truth
Iust. There is not a white haire on your face, but shold
haue his effect of grauity
Fal.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42