PRINCE HENRY	The complaints I hear of thee are grievous.

FALSTAFF	'Sblood, my lord, they are false: nay, I'll tickle
	ye for a young prince, i' faith.

PRINCE HENRY	Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look
	on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace:
	there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an
	old fat man; a tun of man is thy companion. Why
	dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that
	bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel
	of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed
	cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with
	the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that
	grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in
	years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and
	drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a
	capon and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft?
	wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein villanous,
	but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing?