Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS
Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room and lend me thy hand
to laugh a little.
Where hast been, Hal?
With three or four loggerheads amongst three or fourscore
hogsheads. I have sounded the very bass string of humility.
Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers, and can call
them all by their christen names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis.
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. 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. 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. 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.