Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer?

"Belike then my appetite was not princely got, for, by my

troth, I do now remember the poor creature small beer."

Shakespeare and beer are two of my most pleasurable passions. And as Hamlet says, "Oh, ’tis most sweet, When in one line two crafts directly meet." Fortunately for me, the Bard was steeped in the everyday activities and traditions of merry old England, and pub potables was one of the most prominent subjects in many of his plays. As I've come to know from deep research (i.e. personal experience in pubs), imbibing remains an essential and obligatory part of British life. Here in America, beer has enjoyed a renaissance in the last decade. Craft brews are the bee's knees, and I'm just thankful that Florida is proving a haven for such fermented artistry. 

In Shakespeare's day, ale and wine were the few beverages that were safe to consume, and it's safe to say that it wasn't as tasty as that nice IPA or hefeweizen available at an ABC Liquors. Prince Hal's "small beer" was likely a watery ale of low alcohol percentage, just enough to kill the bugs that would be in well water. It was generally made with the second or third runnings of a stronger beer's mash, such as that of a barleywine (oh boy, now THAT stuff will put hair on your chest). 

Now Falstaff's poison of choice was "sack," which is cousin to the small beer in the quality department. The sack he had access to was low-grade wine that was relatively infection-free, but tasted questionable enough that one would need to add flavor enhancements. Sir John famously says in 1 Henry IV, "If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked." Sack was a fortified wine, like a sherry, and was already very sweet, so imagine how indulgent sack and sugar must've been. In The Merry Wives Of Windsor, Falstaff demands, "Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in't." This request hints at the origin of "toasting" with wine: the Romans would add to their pitchers some burnt toast, whose charcoal would reduce the acidity and unpalatable flavours of slightly off vino they were used to drinking. 

Now I'm craving something far more tasty and refined to pour into my pint glasses I recently picked up at the Guinness brewery, so I'll let you go with these classic quotations. SLÁINTE/CHEERS!

“Come, come; good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well us’d…”

Iago, “Othello,” Act II, Sc. III

“Would I were in an alehouse in London, I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.”

Boy, “King Henry V,” Act III, Sc. II

“We’ll teach you to drink deep, ere you depart.”

Hamlet, “Hamlet,” Act I, Sc.II

“Come, thou monarch of the wine,

Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne!

In thy fats our cares be drow’d,

With thy grapes our hairs be crown’d!

Cup us till the world go round,

Cup us till the world go round!”

Enobarbus, “Antony & Cleopatra,” Act II, Sc. VII

“Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer?”

Prince Hal, “King Henry IV, part Two,” Act II, Sc. II

“… and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things… 
nose-painting, sleep, and urine.
Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes 
the desire, but it takes away the performance." 

Porter, “Macbeth,” Act II, Sc. III

“With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls

Than our priest-like fasts…”

Menenius, “Coriolanus,” Act V, Sc. I

“For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.”

Autolycus, “The Winter’s Tale,” Act IV, Sc. III

“Drink a good hearty draught, it breeds good blood, man.”

Arcite, “The Two Noble Kinsmen,” Act III, Sc. III

Sassy Shakespeare: My favorite one-liners

There's a lot of these "Shakespearean insult generator" memes out there, where you choose one item from each column to create a sufficiently archaic-sounding verbal poo-fling. Gems such as "gleeking knotty-pated harpy" or "puking beef-witted apple-john" or "yeasty tardy-gaited moldwarp." Most of these sound more like Harry Potter incantations than insults.

As giggle-inducing as some of them are, they aren't genuine, actual lines from the plays. And after you'e heard some of the more pointed and exotic barbs, you begin to find it a tragedy that these colorful words and phrases aren't used more today. For example, I was irrationally tickled that the word "clotpole" is often utilized in one of my favorite BBC series: Merlin. Lear used it, as did Guderius in Cymbeline. Having encountered it before, and read about its very bawdy origins, I gasped when I heard it uttered in such a family-friendly TV show. Of course, no one outside an English Lit professor would normally pick up on it.

But it's not just the bawdy stuff I love. It's the clever throw-away lines and the chronically taken-out-of-context quotes that I've highlighted throughout my Complete Works that I feel could be useful in everyday conversation. Enjoy!

"I like this place, And willingly could waste my time in it."
--Celia, "As You Like It," Act II, Sc. IV

"You do assist the storm."
--Boatswain, "The Tempest," Act I, Sc. I

"In nature, there's no blemish but the mind; None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind."
--Antonio, "Twelfth Night," Act III, Sc. IV

"Some rise by sin and some by virtue fall..."
--Escalus, "Measure for Measure," Act II, Sc. I

"Scratching could not make it worse and 'twere such a face as yours were."
--Beatrice, "Much Ado About Nothing, Act I, Sc. I

"This is the fruit of rashness!"
--Gloster, "King Richard III," Act II, Sc. II

"He that loves to be flattered is worthy of the flatterer."
--Apemantus, "Timon of Athens," Act I, Sc. I

"For defect of judgment Is oft the cure of fear." 
--Belarius, "Cymbeline," Act. IV, Sc. II

"O, pardon me; For when no friends are by, men praise themselves."
--Lucius, "Titus Andronicus," Act V, Sc. III

"Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease."
--Helicanus, "Pericles, Prince of Tyre," Act II, Sc. IV

"No sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I do bite my thumb, sir."
--Sampson, "Romeo and Juliet," Act. I, Sc. I

"Most spend their mouths when what they seem Runs far before them."
--Dauphin, "King Henry V," Act II, Sc. IV

"Unquiet meals make ill digestions."
--Abbess, "The Comedy of Errors," Act V, Sc. I

"More matter with less art."
--Queen, "Hamlet," Act II, Sc. II

"Trifles light as air Are to the jealous confirmation strong As proofs of holy writ."
--Iago, "Othello," Act III, Sc. III

"...didst thou ever hear that things ill got had ever bad success?"
--King Henry VI, "3 King Henry VI," Act II, Sc. II

"'Tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation."
--Falstaff, "1 King Henry IV," Act I, Sc. II

Hung be the heavens with black

The Wars of the Roses began with a bunch of pansies fighting in the back garden...

Henry VI Part One was written after Henry VI (Parts Two and Three), which were all written before King Henry IV (Parts One and Two) and King Henry V, and you can totally tell. The Henriad plays (Richard II, Henry IV, Henry V) have more of a Shakespearean flair than those earlier plays, which were likely written collaboratively with other authors. It helps that the Henriad plays have significantly more empathetic characters (in number and quality) and the triumphant battle of England over France contained within--Harfleur and Agincourt and all that. By comparison, the story of Henry VI and his so totally not living up to his father's fame and admirability is a bit of a letdown, especially since the famously reviled (but infamously quotable!) Richard III is well on his way to ascending the throne by the end.

The play itself is full of literal battles royale between those firebrand Plantagenets of Lancaster and York. It's got crowd-pleasing fights, murders, and prophetic details that are so often easily inserted into prequels. Joan of Arc even has a glorified cameo role in which she defeats the French Dauphin in single combat--an event that is less of a nod to feminism than one example of just how far back the whole "effeminate Frenchman" joke goes.

That said, Henry VI, Part One opens with the funeral of the great Henry V, narrated with a handful of encomiums worthy of the man that was to be portrayed in the eponymous uber-prequels we know and love to see made by Sirs Olivier and Branagh today. I chose Bedford's because it references the stars, and any poetic waxing about the heavens is enough to win over this amateur astronomer in a heartbeat.


1 King Henry VI, Act I, Sc. I
Bedford: Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!
Comets, importing change of times and states,
Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky,
And with them scourge the bad revolting stars
That have consented unto Henry's death!
King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long!
England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.

I know you all...

I would be remiss not to acknowledge how much the BBC's Hollow Crown series influenced this particular choice of speech. On the brink of full-throttle fangirling over Tom Hiddleston's Loki in Thor/Avengers and his Magnus in Wallander, I fell once again into the King Henry V trap known as the "Wooing of Kate" scene. It pushed me over the edge in regards to Sir Ken, and it did the same with Hiddles. My heart had no chance. 

The Hollow Crown is a thoroughly engaging series anyway, and I highly recommend it to all who enjoy really solid acting and movie-making. The series covers the Henriad, aka Richard II, Henry IV (Parts One and Two), and Henry V. It was a treat to see the character arc of one of my favorites--Prince Hal--brought to life by a damn pretty man, who just happens to be talented as well, which is always a plus. 

The Prince of Wales appears to be a wayward son. As much is hinted at within the text of Richard II, wherein the newly-crowned Henry IV mentions that his "unthrifty son" frequents taverns and hangs out with "unrestrained loose companions," engaging in wanton, youthful activity most unprince-like. The King's chagrin continues into the next two plays as the jolly Prince Hal carouses with the likes of John Falstaff and his knobbly-nosed bosom buddies in Eastcheap amongst winos and prostitutes.

But Hal has a plan, which he deftly outlines in the first act of 1 Henry IV. His soliloquy reveals to the audience that all his delinquent behavior is an act meant to make his planned rise to the throne and subsequent sudden competency appear miraculous, therefore completely blowing his enemies' minds. Meanwhile, it's hinted later on that Hal is steeping himself in the base environs of his subjects to better understand the nuances of the commonweal and how to best relate to their motivations--presumably, a kingly tool to be wielded later as soldiers are mustered for a questionable foreign war. 

However, one cannot assume Hal's not enjoying himself immensely during his wild salad days. He's witty and loves to banter with the sack-soaked Falstaff, but knows deep down that it shall not last much longer. The beauty of these plays is the depth of the dynamic Prince's characterization and how a few key events subtly disclose Hal's inner hatred and ultimate acceptance of the ambivalence required of a king. This first speech is not yet too cynical, and full of the hope that his prodigal son project will work out in the end.

King Henry IV, First Part, Act I, Sc. II

Henry, Prince of Wales:

I know you all, and will awhile uphold 
The unyok'd humour of your idleness. 
Yet herein will I imitate the Sun, 
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
To smother up his beauty from the world, 
That, when he please again to be himself, 
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, 
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. 
If all the year were playing holidays, 
To sport would be as tedious as to work; 
But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come, 
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 
So when this loose behaviour I throw off, 
And pay the debt I never promised, 
By how much better than my word I am, 
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes; 
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, 
My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault, 
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes 
Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
I'll so offend to make offense a skill, 
Redeeming time when men think least I will.