Let God forgive you! But I'm amazed, Harry, at your inclinations, which run completely contrary to those of your ancestors. Your vulgar behavior has cost you your place on my council, a position now held by your younger brother. You have almost completely alienated yourself from the good graces of the courtiers and the other members of the royal family. The hopes of your youth are now ruined; every man, in his heart, thinks he can see your downfall. If I had been so publicly visible, so overly familiar to people, so freely accessible, so cheap and available to the common hordes, then public opinion (which helped me get the crown) would have stayed loyal to King Richard. I would have stayed a banished man, with no reputation and no promise of success. But because I was so rarely seen in public, people were amazed by me when I did appear; they acted as if I were a comet. Men would tell their children, “That's him!” Others would ask, “Where? Which one's Bolingbroke?” I was more gracious than heaven; I acted so modestly that I won the allegiance of their hearts, and the shouts and salutes of their mouths. They even did so when the King himself was present.
This is how I kept myself fresh and new. I was like a priest's ceremonial vestments: rarely seen, but admired. I appeared seldomly, but marvelously, like a feast made all the more impressive by its rarity. Now, ridiculous King Richard pranced about with vapid clowns and superficial wits, quickly lit and just as quickly burnt out. He degraded himself, mingling his royal self with those skipping fools.
