They say Poins has a good wit

Doll
They say Poins has a good wit.
Falstaff
He a good wit? Hang him, baboon. His wit’s
as thick as Tewkesbury mustard. There’s no more
conceit in him than is in a mallet.

Is it not strange that desire should so
many years outlive performance?

Doll
Why does the Prince love him so then?
Falstaff
Because their legs are both of a bigness, and
he plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel,
and drinks off candles’ ends for flap-dragons, and
rides the wild mare with the boys, and jumps upon
joint stools, and swears with a good grace, and
wears his boots very smooth like unto the sign of
the Leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreet
stories, and such other gambol faculties he has that
show a weak mind and an able body, for the which
the Prince admits him; for the Prince himself is
such another. The weight of a hair will turn the
scales between their avoirdupois.
Prince, aside to Poins
Would not this nave of a wheel
have his ears cut off?
Poins
Let’s beat him before his whore.
Prince
Look whe’er the withered elder hath not his
poll clawed like a parrot.
Poins
Is it not strange that desire should so many years
outlive performance?
Falstaff
Kiss me, Doll.
Prince, aside to Poins
Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction!
What says th’ almanac to that?
Poins
And look whether the fiery trigon, his man, be
not lisping to his master’s old tables, his notebook,
his counsel keeper.
Falstaff, to Doll
Thou dost give me flattering busses.
Doll
By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart.
Falstaff
I am old, I am old.
Doll
I love thee better than I love e’er a scurvy young
boy of them all.
Falstaff
What stuff wilt thou have a kirtle of? I shall
receive money o’ Thursday; thou shalt have a cap
tomorrow. A merry song! Come, it grows late. We’ll
to bed. Thou ’lt forget me when I am gone.
Doll
By my troth, thou ’lt set me a-weeping an thou
sayst so. Prove that ever I dress myself handsome till
thy return. Well, harken a’ th’ end.
Falstaff
Some sack, Francis.
Prince, Poins, coming forward
Anon, anon, sir.
Falstaff
Ha? A bastard son of the King’s?—And art
not thou Poins his brother?
Prince
Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a
life dost thou lead?
Falstaff
A better than thou. I am a gentleman. Thou
art a drawer.
Prince
Very true, sir, and I come to draw you out by
the ears.