Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of sack. Our
soldiers shall march through; we’ll to Sutton Co’fil’ tonight.
Bardolph, go ahead to Coventry; get me a bottle of wine. Our soldiers will march through; we'll go to Sutton Coldfield tonight.
Bardolph, head to Coventry first and get me some wine. Our soldiers will march through there, and we'll go to Sutton Coldfield tonight.
go get wine in coventry soldiers march through we're going to sutton coldfield
Will you give me money, captain?
Are you going to give me money, captain?
You going to give me money for this, captain?
you got money for this?
Lay out, lay out.
Spend the money, spend it.
Yeah, go ahead. Spend what you need.
yeah spend it
This bottle makes an angel.
This bottle costs a gold coin.
That bottle costs a gold coin.
costs a gold coin
An if it do, take it for thy labour. An if it make twenty, take them
all, I’ll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at town’s
end.
If that's the case, take it as your payment. And if it somehow becomes twenty, take them all—I'll take responsibility for the coinage. Tell my lieutenant Peto to meet me at the edge of town.
If it costs that much, keep it as payment. If somehow it turns into twenty coins, take all of them—I'll deal with it. Tell my lieutenant Peto to meet me at the end of town.
take it as payment if it's twenty take em all i'll handle it tell peto to meet me at town's end
I will, captain: farewell.
Yes, captain. I'll be on my way.
Got it, captain. See you soon.
got it captain
If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have
misused the King’s press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred
and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but
good householders, yeomen’s sons, inquire me out contracted bachelors,
such as had been asked twice on the banns, such a commodity of warm
slaves as had as lief hear the devil as a drum, such as fear the report
of a caliver worse than a struck fowl or a hurt wild duck. I pressed me
none but such toasts-and-butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger
than pins’ heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my
whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of
companies—slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the
glutton’s dogs licked his sores; and such as indeed were never
soldiers, but discarded unjust servingmen, younger sons to younger
brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a
calm world and a long peace, ten times more dishonourable-ragged than
an old fazed ancient; and such have I to fill up the rooms of them that
have bought out their services, that you would think that I had a
hundred and fifty tattered prodigals lately come from swine-keeping,
from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told
me I had unloaded all the gibbets and pressed the dead bodies. No eye
hath seen such scarecrows. I’ll not march through Coventry with them,
that’s flat. Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs as if
they had gyves on, for indeed I had the most of them out of prison.
There’s not a shirt and a half in all my company, and the half shirt is
two napkins tacked together and thrown over the shoulders like a
herald’s coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen
from my host at Saint Albans, or the red-nose innkeeper of Daventry.
But that’s all one; they’ll find linen enough on every hedge.
If I'm not ashamed of my soldiers, I'm a soaked fish. I've terribly abused the King's power to conscript men. I got three hundred pounds in exchange for a hundred and fifty soldiers—they paid to escape service. I conscripted only respectable men, farmers' sons, even engaged men; such cowards who'd rather hear the devil than a drum, who fear gunfire worse than a struck bird. Then they all bought themselves out. Now my whole company is just officers with no men—ragged as the beggar Lazarus in paintings; men who were never real soldiers but cast-off servants, unemployed bartenders and stable hands, the corruption of a peaceful world. I have to use these to fill the ranks, making you think I had a hundred fifty ragged wanderers just from herding pigs. A madman told me I'd emptied the gallows and pressed dead bodies into service. I won't march through Coventry with such scarecrows—that's final. The villains walk with legs spread wide as if in chains, because most came from prison. There's barely a shirt among them; what exists is napkins sewn together like a sleeveless coat, and that was stolen from an innkeeper. But it's all the same; they'll find linen on every hedge anyway.
I'd have to be insane not to be embarrassed by my soldiers. I've totally cheated the king's conscription system. I got three hundred pounds out of it by letting men pay to get out of the hundred fifty positions. I recruited all these respectable guys and farmers' sons, even men who were supposed to get married. Cowards who'd rather hear the devil than hear a drum, who are terrified of guns. They all paid to escape. Now I've got nothing but officers and a bunch of ragbags—guys who were never real soldiers, just fired servants and unemployed bartenders. I have to use them to fill up the positions with what looks like a hundred fifty rags-to-riches failures straight from pig farming. Somebody told me I'd emptied the jails and pressed dead bodies into service. They're complete scarecrows. I'm not going to march them through Coventry like this. Plus they walk with legs spread because most of them are straight out of prison. They barely have one shirt between them—what they call a shirt is two napkins sewn together, and it's stolen anyway. But whatever; there's plenty of linen on the bushes around here.
my soldiers are trash i cheated the king—got paid instead of raising men only got cowards and failures can't march them through town mostly from prison no shirts whatever we'll find linen somewhere
How now, blown Jack? How now, quilt?
How now, puffed-up Jack? How now, stuffed fellow?
Well, well, here comes the big guy. Looking good there, padded one.
hey puff what's up
What, Hal! How now, mad wag? What a devil dost thou in Warwickshire? My
good Lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy. I thought your honour had
already been at Shrewsbury.
What, Hal! How now, you wild one? What in heaven's name are you doing in Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmoreland, I beg your pardon. I thought your honor would already be at Shrewsbury.
Hal! You crazy guy, what are you doing here in Warwickshire? Oh, Lord Westmoreland, I apologize—I thought you'd already be at Shrewsbury.
hal! what you doing here? westmoreland—my bad thought you'd be at shrewsbury
Faith, Sir John, ’tis more than time that I were there, and you too,
but my powers are there already. The King, I can tell you, looks for us
all. We must away all night.
Truly, Sir John, it is past time that I were there, and you too, but my troops are already there. The King, I can tell you, waits for us all. We must travel through the whole night.
Sir John, we're way overdue. I should be there and so should you, but my troops are already there. The King is waiting for all of us. We need to travel through the night.
we're late king's waiting we gotta go all night
Falstaff's account of how he abused the King's press is not a satirical exaggeration — it's a fairly accurate description of how Elizabethan military conscription actually worked. Wealthy men could pay to be exempted; officers kept the money and filled their quotas with whoever was left. The resulting armies were often composed exactly as Falstaff describes: 'discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen.' This was recognized as a scandal in Shakespeare's time. The scene works as political commentary: the system of honorable war, celebrated by Hotspur and the King's rhetoric, is built on the bodies of people who had no choice. Falstaff doesn't moralize about this — he's part of the system — which makes his matter-of-fact description more damning, not less.
Tut, never fear me. I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.
Don't worry about me. I am as watchful as a cat stealing cream.
Don't worry, I'm on it. I'm as quick and sneaky as a cat after cream.
don't worry i'm sharp as a cat
I think, to steal cream indeed, for thy theft hath already made thee
butter. But tell me, Jack, whose fellows are these that come after?
I think, to steal cream indeed, for your theft has already turned you into butter. But tell me, Jack, who are these fellows that follow behind?
Yeah, to steal cream—your thievery has already turned you to butter. But seriously, Jack, who are all these guys behind you?
your stealing made you fat but who's all these guys?
Mine, Hal, mine.
They are mine, Hal—my soldiers.
They're my guys, Hal.
mine
I did never see such pitiful rascals.
I have never seen such wretched scoundrels.
I've never seen such pitiful losers.
never seen worse soldiers
Tut, tut, good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder,
they’ll fill a pit as well as better. Tush, man, mortal men, mortal
men.
Come now, they're good enough to throw at the enemy; cannon fodder, cannon fodder, they'll fill a grave as well as better men. Come on, man, they're human, merely human.
Come on, they're good enough to die in battle; cannon fodder, that's what they are. They'll get killed just like anybody else. They're just men, after all.
they're cannon fodder good as dead meat just men dying
Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare, too
beggarly.
Yes, but, Sir John, it seems to me they are extremely poor and bare, too ragged.
Sir John, they look extremely poor and ragged to me.
they're too poor and ragged
Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had that; and for their
bareness, I am sure they never learned that of me.
Truly, for their poverty, I don't know where they got that; and for their ragged condition, I am certain they never learned that from me.
Look, I didn't make them poor, and I certainly didn't teach them to dress like that.
not my fault they're poor i didn't teach em that
No, I’ll be sworn, unless you call three fingers on the ribs bare. But,
sirrah, make haste. Percy is already in the field.
No, I swear it's true, unless you count visible ribs as their clothing. But, there, hurry up. Percy is already in the field preparing for battle.
Yeah, that's true—unless you count their visible ribs. But come on, move fast. Percy's already got his army ready.
unless ribs count as clothes percys already ready let's go
What, is the King encamped?
What, is the King set up in his camp?
So the King's already set up camp?
king's camping?
He is, Sir John. I fear we shall stay too long.
He is, Sir John. I fear we will delay too long.
Yes, he is. I'm worried we're staying too long.
yeah. we're staying too long
Well,
To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast
Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest.
Well, to arrive at the end of a battle and the beginning of a feast fits a cowardly fighter and an eager guest perfectly.
Well, showing up at the end of the fighting and the start of the feast works great for someone who's not much of a warrior but loves food.
end of the fight, start of the feast that's the life
The Reckoning
The play's sharpest indictment of how war actually works — and Falstaff delivers it without a trace of guilt. His ragged company are men who couldn't afford to bribe their way out of service. 'Food for powder, they'll fill a pit as well as better.' The comedy is black. This is where Falstaff stops being just funny and becomes genuinely troubling.
If this happened today…
A defense contractor shows up to a military briefing with a squad of people who clearly weren't supposed to be there — temps, day laborers, people with missing equipment. When questioned, he explains calmly that the good candidates paid him to go home, and this is who's left. 'Mortal men, mortal men.' He says it without irony.