147142a purse of gold most resolutely snatcht on Munday night and

148143most dissolutely spent on tuesday morning, got with swearing,

149144lay by, and spent with crying, bring in, now in as low an ebbe

151145as the foot of the ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the

152146ridge of the gallowes.

153147Falst. By the Lord thou saist true lad, and is not my hostesse

154148of the tauerne a most sweet wench?

155149Prin. As the hony of Hibla my old lad of the castle, and is

156150not a buffe Ierkin a most sweet robe of durance?

157151Falst. How now, how nowe mad wag, what in thy quips

158152and thy quiddities? what a plague haue I to doe with a buffe

159153Ierkin?

160154Prince. Why what a poxe haue I to do with my hostesse of

161155the tauerne?

162156Falst. Well, thou hast cald her to a reckoning many a time

163157and oft.

164158Prince. Did I euer call for thee to pay thy part?

165159Falst. No, ile giue thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.

166160Prin. Yea and else where, so far as my coine would stretch,

167161and where it would not, I haue vsed my credit.

168162Falst. Yea, and so vs'd it that were it not here apparant that

169163thou art heire apparant. But I prethe sweet wag, shall there be

170164gallowes standing in England when thou art king? and reso-

171165lution thus fubd as it is with the rusty curbe of olde father An-

172166ticke the law, do not thou when thou art king hang a theefe.

174167Prince. No, thou shalt.

175168Falst. Shall I? O rare! by the Lord ile be a braue iudge.

176169Prin. Thou iudgest false already, I meane thou shalt haue

177170the hanging of the theeues, and so become a rare hangman.

179171Falst. Well Hall well, and in some sort it iumpes with my

180172humour, as well as waighting in the Court I can tell you.

182173Prince. For obtaining of suites?

183174Falst. Yea, for obtaining of suites, whereof the hangman

184175hath no leane wardrob. Zbloud I am as melancholy as a gyb

185176Cat, or a lugd beare.

186177Prin. Or an old lyon, or a louers Lute.

187178Falst. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.

188179Prince. What saiest thou to a Hare, or the malancholy of