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Enter HENRY, PRINCE of Wales, and Sir John FALSTAFF
HENRY, PRINCE of Wales and Sir John FALSTAFF enter.

FALSTAFF
Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
FALSTAFF
Hal, what time is it, my boy?

PRINCE HENRY
Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.
PRINCE HENRY
You are so wasted from drinking booze and loosening your pants after lunch and sleeping on benches all afternoon that you don’t even remember how to ask for what you really want to know. What the hell does it matter to you what time it is? Unless hours were glasses of wine, minutes were chickens, clocks were whores' tongues, sundials were whorehouse signs and the sun itself were a hot woman in a flame-colored dress, I don’t see any reason why you would need to know the time.

FALSTAFF
Indeed, you come near me now, Hal, for we that take purses go by the moon and the seven stars, and not by Phoebus, he,that wand'ring knight so fair. And I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king, as God save thy Grace—Majesty, I should say, for grace thou wilt have none—
FALSTAFF
Now you’re talking, Hal. Thieves like us operate at night, by the moon and stars, and not by the sun. I hope, pretty boy, that when you become king, God save your Grace—or maybe I should just call you “Your Majesty,” since you don’t have any grace—

PRINCE HENRY
What, none?
PRINCE HENRY
None?

FALSTAFF
No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.
FALSTAFF
No, I swear. Not even enough to say grace before a snack.

20
PRINCE HENRY
Well, how then? Come, roundly, roundly.
PRINCE HENRY
Come on, out with it. Get to the point.

FALSTAFF
Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that are squires of the night’s body be called thieves of the day’s beauty. Let us be Diana’s foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon, and let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.
FALSTAFF
Okay then, pretty boy. Whey you become king, don’t let those of us who work at night be blamed for wasting daylight by sleeping through it. Give us fancy names: “Servants of the Moon Goddess Diana;” “Gentlemen of Shadows;” “Lunar Laborers.” Make people admire us for being well behaved. After all, we’re governed by the same force that governs the tides—the pale and cool moon, who lights our way as we sneak around.

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