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FALSTAFF

And here is my speech. Stand aside, nobility.

FALSTAFF

And I’ll speak to you. Step aside, gentlemen.

MISTRESS QUICKLY

O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i' faith!

MISTRESS QUICKLY

Oh, Jesus! This is an excellent game, truly!

FALSTAFF

Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.

FALSTAFF

Don’t cry, sweet queen; your trickling tears do no good.

MISTRESS QUICKLY

345O the father, how he holds his countenance!

MISTRESS QUICKLY

Oh Lord, look how well he’s keeping it up!

FALSTAFF

For God’s sake, lords, convey my tristful queen,
For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes.

FALSTAFF

For God’s sake, gentlemen; take my queen away from here. The floodgates of her eyes are being overwhelmed by her tears.

MISTRESS QUICKLY

O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever
I see.

MISTRESS QUICKLY

My God! He’s just as good as those silly old professional actors!

FALSTAFF

350Peace, good pint-pot. Peace, good tickle-brain.— (to PRINCE HENRY ) Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied. 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. 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. 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. Shall the sun of England prove a thief and take purses? A question to be asked. 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. 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. And yet there is a virtuous man whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name.

FALSTAFF

Quiet, little ale pot. Quiet, little booze-brain. (to PRINCE HENRY) Harry, I am not only amazed at where you are spending your time, but whom you’re spending it with. They say that stepping on a chamomile plant will make it grow faster. But when it comes to youth, the more it is wasted, the faster is wears away. I know you are my son. Your mother says so, I believe so, and the wicked glint in your eye and foolish expression on your face prove it. If it’s true that you are my son, then here is my point: why, since you are my son, do so many people point at you? Should the blessed sun in heaven waste its time eating blackberries? That is not a question worth asking. Should the son of the king of England become a thief and steal wallets? That is worth asking. Harry, you’ve heard of a substance known as pitch.

Pitch

pitch = sticky tar

Pitch
, as the wise men tell us, makes one filthy, and so does the company you keep. Harry, I speak to you not drunk but weeping, not in happiness but in anger, not just in words but also in sadness. And yet, there is a very good and pious man whom I’ve often seen you with, but I do not know his name.