Harry, I am very surprised at where you're choosing to spend your time, and who you're choosing to spend it with. And yet there is a virtuous man whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name.Įnough, good pint of ale. For, Harry, now I do not speak to thee, in drink but in tears not in pleasure, but in passion not in words only, but in woes also. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch: this pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile so doth the company thou keepest. Shall the sun of England prove a thief and take purses? A question to be asked. If then thou be son to me, here lies the point: why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher and eat blackberries? A question not to be asked. That thou art my son I have partly thy mother’s word, partly my own opinion, but chiefly a villanous trick of thine eye and a foolish-hanging of thy nether lip that doth warrant me. For though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, so youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.
Peace, good tickle-brain.- (to PRINCE HENRY ) Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied. Keep calling out the name "Francis," so that he keeps having to reply, "Just a minute, sir." Go to this room, and I'll show you something worth remembering.
But Ned, to waste some time before Falstaff gets here, will you stand in a side room while I question one of the inexperienced apprentices about why he gave me the sugar. Bring a pint of bastard to the Half-moon room," or something like that. I got this from an apprentice bartender, a boy who has never said anything in his life except for, "That'll be eight shillings and sixpence," and "You're welcome," and sometimes, "Just a minute, sir. But sweet Ned, I will make your name even sweeter by giving you a penny's worth of sugar. I am telling you Ned, you didn't help yourself in missing this encounter. All in all, I got so good at drinking in fifteen minutes that I can be a good drinking buddy with people of any social class. When you drink a lot, they call it being " dyed red ," and when you take a break from drinking, they cough loudly, and tell you to finish your drink. When I am King of England, I will have the support of all the good lads in Eastcheap. They told me straight that I'm not a pompous idiot, like Falstaff, but a worthy fellow, a determined lad, a good boy even-I swear to God they call me that. They have promised me that even though I am just the Prince of Wales, I am a king of politeness in their eyes. Sir, I am now best friends with three of these bartenders, and can even call them by their first names-Tom, Dick, and Francis. I have been with the lowest of the lowly. I've been with three or four blockheads and somewhere between sixty and eighty cases of wine. But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee, do thou stand in some by-room while I question my puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar and do thou never leave calling “Francis,” that his tale to me may be nothing but “Anon.” Step aside, and I’ll show thee a precedent. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honor that thou wert not with me in this action but, sweet Ned-to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now into my hand by an underskinker, one that never spake other English in his life than “Eight shillings and sixpence,” and “You are welcome,” with this shrill addition, “Anon, anon, sir.-Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon,” or so. They call drinking deep “dyeing scarlet,” and when you breathe in your watering, they cry “Hem!” and bid you “Play it off!” To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. They take it already upon their salvation that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy, and tell me flatly am no proud jack, like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy-by the Lord, so they call me- and when I am King of England, I shall command all the good lads in Eastcheap. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers, and can call them all by their christen names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. I have sounded the very bass string of humility.
With three or four loggerheads amongst three or fourscore hogsheads.
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