Act 4, Scene 1 — Henry V — Study Shakespeare

The argument The night before Agincourt, Henry walks disguised among his soldiers, debates the king's moral responsibility with common soldiers, and prays alone for his army's courage.

CHORUS ≋ verse

Now entertain conjecture of a time

When creeping murmur and the poring dark

Fills the wide vessel of the universe.

From camp to camp through the foul womb of night

The hum of either army stilly sounds,

That the fix’d sentinels almost receive

The secret whispers of each other’s watch;

Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames

Each battle sees the other’s umber’d face;

Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs

Piercing the night’s dull ear; and from the tents

The armourers, accomplishing the knights,

With busy hammers closing rivets up,

Give dreadful note of preparation.

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,

And the third hour of drowsy morning name.

Proud of their numbers and secure in soul,

The confident and over-lusty French

Do the low-rated English play at dice;

And chide the cripple tardy-gaited Night

Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp

So tediously away. The poor condemned English,

Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires

Sit patiently and inly ruminate

The morning’s danger; and their gesture sad,

Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats,

Presented them unto the gazing moon

So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold

The royal captain of this ruin’d band

Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,

Let him cry, “Praise and glory on his head!”

For forth he goes and visits all his host,

Bids them good morrow with a modest smile,

And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen.

Upon his royal face there is no note

How dread an army hath enrounded him;

Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour

Unto the weary and all-watched night,

But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint

With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty;

That every wretch, pining and pale before,

Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks.

A largess universal like the sun

His liberal eye doth give to everyone,

Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all

Behold, as may unworthiness define,

A little touch of Harry in the night.

And so our scene must to the battle fly,

Where—O for pity!—we shall much disgrace

With four or five most vile and ragged foils,

Right ill-dispos’d in brawl ridiculous,

The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,

Minding true things by what their mock’ries be.

Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp through the foul womb of night The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix’d sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other’s watch; Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other’s umber’d face; Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night’s dull ear; and from the tents The armourers, accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation. The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, And the third hour of drowsy morning name. Proud of their numbers and secure in soul, The confident and over-lusty French Do the low-rated English play at dice; And chide the cripple tardy-gaited Night Who, like a foul and ugly witch, does limp So tediously away. The poor condemned English, Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires Sit patiently and inly ruminate The morning’s danger; and their gesture sad, Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats, Presented them unto the gazing moon So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold The royal captain of this ruin’d band Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, Let him cry, “Praise and glory on his head!” For forth he goes and visits all his host, Bids them good morrow with a modest smile, And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen. Upon his royal face there is no note How dread an army has enrounded him; Nor does he dedicate one jot of colour Unto the weary and all-watched night, But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; That every wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks. A largess universal like the sun His liberal eye does give to everyone, Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all Behold, as may unworthiness define, A little touch of Harry in the night. And so our scene must to the battle fly, Where—O for pity!—we shall much disgrace With four or five most vile and ragged foils, Right ill-dispos’d in brawl ridiculous, The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see, Minding true things by what their mock’ries be.

Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp through the foul womb of night The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix’d sentinels almost receive The secret wh'spers of each other’s watch; Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other’s umber’d face; Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night’s dull ear; and from the tents The armourers, accompl'shing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation. The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, And the third hour of drowsy morning name. Proud of their numbers and secure in soul, The confident and over-lusty French Do the low-rated Engl'sh play at dice; And chide the cripple tardy-gaited Night Who, like a foul and ugly witch, does limp So tediously away. The poor condemned Engl'sh, Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires Sit patiently and inly ruminate The morning’s danger; and their gesture sad, Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats, Presented them unto the gazing moon So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold The royal captain of th's ruin’d band Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, Let him cry, “Pra'se and glory on h's head!” For forth he goes and v'sits all h's host, Bids them good morrow with a modest smile, And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen. Upon h's royal face there 's no note How dread an army has enrounded him; Nor does he dedicate one jot of colour Unto the weary and all-watched night, But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; That every wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from h's looks. A largess universal like the sun H's liberal eye does give to everyone, Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all Behold, as may unworthiness define, A little touch of Harry in the night. And so our scene must to the battle fly, Where—O for pity!—we shall much d'sgrace With four or five most vile and ragged foils, Right ill-d'spos’d in brawl ridiculous, The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see, Minding true things by what their mock’ries be.

now entertain conjecture of a time when creeping murmur and the poring dark fill

"the poring dark" 'Poring' means peering intently — the darkness itself is imagined as straining to see. A startlingly alive metaphor for night.

"A little touch of Harry in the night" The Chorus's most celebrated phrase. It captures something genuinely ineffable: the personal, informal courage that comes not from rank but from presence.

Why it matters This Chorus speech is Shakespeare at his most cinematic — he knows the Globe theatre can't show the night before Agincourt, so he makes the limitation part of the art, asking the audience's imagination to do the work. 'A little touch of Harry in the night' has become one of the defining images of Henry V.

Enter King Henry, Bedford and Gloucester.

KING HENRY ≋ verse

Gloucester, ’tis true that we are in great danger;

The greater therefore should our courage be.

Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty!

There is some soul of goodness in things evil,

Would men observingly distil it out;

For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,

Which is both healthful and good husbandry.

Besides, they are our outward consciences,

And preachers to us all, admonishing

That we should dress us fairly for our end.

Thus may we gather honey from the weed,

And make a moral of the devil himself.

Gloucester, ’tis true that we are in great danger; The greater therefore should our courage be. Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty! There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out; For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, Which is both healthful and good husbandry. Besides, they are our outward consciences, And preachers to us all, admonishing That we should dress us fairly for our end. Thus may we gather honey from the weed, And make a moral of the devil himself.

Gloucester, ’tis true that we are in great danger; The great

Enter Erpingham.

Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham:

A good soft pillow for that good white head

Were better than a churlish turf of France.

ERPINGHAM ≋ verse

Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better,

Since I may say, “Now lie I like a king.”

Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better, Since I may say, “Now lie I like a king.”

Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better, Since I may

"Now lie I like a king" A pun on 'lie' — sleeping on the ground like a king does, and lying as a king lies down. Erpingham is cheerfully making the best of it.

KING HENRY ≋ verse

’Tis good for men to love their present pains

Upon example; so the spirit is eased;

And when the mind is quick’ned, out of doubt,

The organs, though defunct and dead before,

Break up their drowsy grave and newly move,

With casted slough and fresh legerity.

Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both,

Commend me to the princes in our camp;

Do my good morrow to them, and anon

Desire them all to my pavilion.

’Tis good for men to love their present pains Upon example; so the spirit is eased; And when the mind is quick’ned, out of doubt, The organs, though defunct and dead before, Break up their drowsy grave and newly move, With casted slough and fresh legerity. Lend me your cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both, Commend me to the princes in our camp; Do my good morrow to them, and anon Desire them all to my pavilion.

’T's good for men to love their present pains Upon example; so the spirit 's eased; And when the mind 's quick’ned, out of doubt, The organs, though defunct and dead before, Break up their drowsy grave and newly move, With casted slough and fresh legerity. Lend me your cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both, Commend me to the princes in our camp; Do my good morrow to them, and anon Desire them all to my pavilion.

’tis good for men to love their present pains upon example; so the spirit is eas

GLOUCESTER

We shall, my liege.

ERPINGHAM

Shall I attend your Grace?

KING HENRY ≋ verse

No, my good knight;

Go with my brothers to my lords of England.

I and my bosom must debate a while,

And then I would no other company.

No, my good knight; Go with my brothers to my lords of England. I and my bosom must debate a while, And then I would no other company.

No, my good knight; Go with my brothers to my lords of Engla

ERPINGHAM

The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!

The Lord in heaven bless you, noble Harry!

the lord in heaven bless you, noble harry!

[_Exeunt all but King._]

KING HENRY

God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak’st cheerfully.

God-a-mercy, old heart! you speak’st cheerfully.

god-a-mercy, old heart! you speak’st cheerfully.

Enter Pistol.

PISTOL

_Qui vous là?_

"_Qui vous là?_" French for 'Who goes there?' — Pistol affecting a bit of military French to seem more impressive. In the dark, before a battle against the French, this lands with comic irony.

KING HENRY

A friend.

PISTOL ≋ verse

Discuss unto me; art thou officer?

Or art thou base, common, and popular?

Discuss unto me; art you officer? Or art you base, common, and popular?

D'scuss unto me; art you officer? Or art you base, common, and popular?

discuss unto me; art you officer? or art you base, common, and popular?

KING HENRY

I am a gentleman of a company.

PISTOL

Trail’st thou the puissant pike?

Trail’st you the puissant pike?

Trail’st you the pu'ssant pike?

trail’st you the puissant pike?

KING HENRY

Even so. What are you?

PISTOL

As good a gentleman as the Emperor.

KING HENRY

Then you are a better than the King.

PISTOL ≋ verse

The King’s a bawcock, and a heart of gold,

A lad of life, an imp of fame;

Of parents good, of fist most valiant.

I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-string

I love the lovely bully. What is thy name?

The King’s a bawcock, and a heart of gold, A lad of life, an imp of fame; Of parents good, of fist most valiant. I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-string I love the lovely bully. What is your name?

The King’s a bawcock, and a heart of gold, A lad of life, an imp of fame; Of p'rents good, of f'st most valiant. I k'ss h's dirty shoe, and from heart-string I love the lovely bully. What 's your name?

the king’s a bawcock, and a heart of gold, a lad of life, an imp of fame; of par

🎭 Dramatic irony Pistol praises the King as 'a heart of gold' and 'a bawcock' directly to the King's face — neither knowing the other is who he is. The audience enjoys every word of the compliment.

KING HENRY

Harry le Roy.

"Harry le Roy" 'Le Roy' is French for 'the King.' Henry is giving his real name in translation — and Pistol, who doesn't know French, completely misses it.

PISTOL

Le Roy! a Cornish name. Art thou of Cornish crew?

Le Roy! a Cornish name. Art you of Cornish crew?

Le Roy! a Corn'sh name. Art you of Corn'sh crew?

le roy! a cornish name. art you of cornish crew?

KING HENRY

No, I am a Welshman.

PISTOL

Know’st thou Fluellen?

Know’st you Fluellen?

know’st you fluellen?

KING HENRY

Yes.

PISTOL ≋ verse

Tell him I’ll knock his leek about his pate

Upon Saint Davy’s day.

Tell him I’ll knock his leek about his pate Upon Saint Davy’s day.

Tell him I’ll knock his leek about his pate Upon Saint Davy’

KING HENRY

Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock that

about yours.

Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he knock that about yours.

Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, lest he kn

PISTOL

Art thou his friend?

Art you his friend?

Art you h's friend?

art you his friend?

KING HENRY

And his kinsman too.

PISTOL

The _fico_ for thee, then!

The _fico_ for you, then!

the _fico_ for you, then!

KING HENRY

I thank you. God be with you!

PISTOL

My name is Pistol call’d.

[_Exit._]

KING HENRY

It sorts well with your fierceness.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

GOWER

Captain Fluellen!

FLUELLEN

So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak lower. It is the greatest

admiration in the universal world, when the true and anchient

prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept. If you would take the

pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I

warrant you, that there is no tiddle taddle nor pibble pabble in

Pompey’s camp. I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the

wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it,

and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.

So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak lower. It is the greatest admiration in the universal world, when the true and anchient prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept. If you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle taddle nor pibble pabble in Pompey’s camp. I warrant you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise.

So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak lower. It is the great

GOWER

Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all night.

FLUELLEN

If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is it meet,

think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass and a fool and a

prating coxcomb? In your own conscience, now?

If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb? In your own conscience, now?

If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is

GOWER

I will speak lower.

FLUELLEN

I pray you and beseech you that you will.

[_Exeunt Gower and Fluellen._]

KING HENRY ≋ verse

Though it appear a little out of fashion,

There is much care and valour in this Welshman.

Though it appear a little out of fashion, There is much care and valour in this Welshman.

Though it appear a little out of fashion, There is much care

Enter three soldiers, John Bates, Alexander Court and Michael

Williams.

COURT

Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yonder?

Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yon

BATES

I think it be; but we have no great cause to desire the approach of

day.

I think it be; but we have no great cause to desire the approach of day.

I think it be; but we have no great cause to desire the appr

WILLIAMS

We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we shall never see

the end of it. Who goes there?

We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we shall never see the end of it. Who goes there?

We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think we shall

KING HENRY

A friend.

WILLIAMS

Under what captain serve you?

KING HENRY

Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.

WILLIAMS

A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray you, what thinks

he of our estate?

A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray you, what thinks he of our estate?

A good old commander and a most kind gentleman. I pray you,

KING HENRY

Even as men wreck’d upon a sand, that look to be wash’d off the next

tide.

Even as men wreck’d upon a sand, that look to be wash’d off the next tide.

Even as men wreck’d upon a sand, that look to be wash’d off

BATES

He hath not told his thought to the King?

He has not told his thought to the King?

He has not told h's thought to the King?

he has not told his thought to the king?

KING HENRY

No; nor it is not meet he should. For though I speak it to you, I think

the King is but a man as I am. The violet smells to him as it doth to

me; the element shows to him as it doth to me; all his senses have but

human conditions. His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears

but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet,

when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when he sees

reason of fears as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same

relish as ours are; yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any

appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army.

No; nor it is not meet he should. For though I speak it to you, I think the King is but a man as I am. The violet smells to him as it does to me; the element shows to him as it does to me; all his senses have but human conditions. His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when he sees reason of fears as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are; yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army.

No; nor it 's not meet he should. For though I speak it to you, I think the King 's but a man as I am. The violet smells to him as it does to me; the element shows to him as it does to me; all h's senses have but human conditions. H's ceremonies laid by, in h's nakedness he appears but a man; and though h's affections 're higher mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing. Therefore, when he sees reason of fears as we do, h's fears, out of doubt, be of the same rel'sh as ours 're; yet, in reason, no man should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should d'shearten h's army.

no; nor it is not meet he should. for though i speak it to you, i think the king

Why it matters This is Henry arguing, without knowing it, for himself — and managing to be both shrewd and genuinely humble at the same time.

BATES

He may show what outward courage he will; but I believe, as cold a

night as ’tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck; and so I

would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here.

He may show what outward courage he will; but I believe, as cold a night as ’tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here.

He may show what outward courage he will; but I believe, as

KING HENRY

By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King: I think he would

not wish himself anywhere but where he is.

By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King: I think he would not wish himself anywhere but where he is.

By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King: I think

BATES

Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed,

and a many poor men’s lives saved.

Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men’s lives saved.

Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be

KING HENRY

I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him here alone, howsoever

you speak this to feel other men’s minds. Methinks I could not die

anywhere so contented as in the King’s company, his cause being just

and his quarrel honourable.

I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him here alone, howsoever you speak this to feel other men’s minds. Methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the King’s company, his cause being just and his quarrel honourable.

I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him here alone,

WILLIAMS

That’s more than we know.

BATES

Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough, if we know

we are the King’s subjects. If his cause be wrong, our obedience to the

King wipes the crime of it out of us.

Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough, if we know we are the King’s subjects. If his cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the crime of it out of us.

Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough, i

WILLIAMS

But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning

to make, when all those legs and arms and heads, chopp’d off in a

battle, shall join together at the latter day and cry all, “We died at

such a place”; some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon

their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some

upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well that

die in a battle; for how can they charitably dispose of anything, when

blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be

a black matter for the King that led them to it; who to disobey were

against all proportion of subjection.

But if the cause be not good, the King himself has a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads, chopp’d off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day and cry all, “We died at such a place”; some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle; for how can they charitably dispose of anything, when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the King that led them to it; who to disobey were against all proportion of subjection.

But if the cause be not good, the King himself has a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads, chopp’d off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day and cry all, “We died at such a place”; some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there 're few die well that die in a battle; for how can they charitably d'spose of anything, when blood 's their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the King that led them to it; who to d'sobey were against all proportion of subjection.

but if the cause be not good, the king himself has a heavy reckoning to make, wh

Why it matters Williams's speech is one of the most powerful expressions of anti-war sentiment in Shakespeare — the body parts joining back together at Judgment Day is a genuinely horrifying image that cuts straight through Henry's grand rhetoric.

↩ Callback to 1-2 Williams's question about the king's responsibility for his soldiers' souls echoes Canterbury's elaborate justification for the French war in Act 1 — the moral weight Williams carries is precisely what Canterbury swept aside.

KING HENRY

So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully

miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule,

should be imposed upon his father that sent him; or if a servant, under

his master’s command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by

robbers and die in many irreconcil’d iniquities, you may call the

business of the master the author of the servant’s damnation. But this

is not so. The King is not bound to answer the particular endings of

his soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant; for

they purpose not their death, when they purpose their services.

Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come

to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all unspotted

soldiers. Some peradventure have on them the guilt of premeditated and

contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of

perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored

the gentle bosom of Peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men

have defeated the law and outrun native punishment, though they can

outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God. War is his beadle,

war is his vengeance; so that here men are punish’d for before-breach

of the King’s laws in now the King’s quarrel. Where they feared the

death, they have borne life away; and where they would be safe, they

perish. Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King guilty of

their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the

which they are now visited. Every subject’s duty is the King’s; but

every subject’s soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in the

wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every mote out of his

conscience; and dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the

time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained; and in him

that escapes, it were not sin to think that, making God so free an

offer, He let him outlive that day to see His greatness and to teach

others how they should prepare.

So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father that sent him; or if a servant, under his master’s command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in many irreconcil’d iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant’s damnation. But this not so. The King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant; for they purpose not their death, when they purpose their services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some peradventure have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of Peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God. War is his beadle, war is his vengeance; so that here men are punish’d for before-breach of the King’s laws in now the King’s quarrel. Where they feared the death, they have borne life away; and where they would be safe, they perish. Then if they die unprovided, no more is the King guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they are now visited. Every subject’s duty is the King’s; but every subject’s soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every mote out of his conscience; and dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained; and in him that escapes, it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, He let him outlive that day to see His greatness and to teach others how they should prepare.

So, if a son that 's by h's father sent about merchand'se do sinfully m'scarry upon the sea, the imputation of h's wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon h's father that sent him; or if a servant, under h's master’s command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in many irreconcil’d iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant’s damnation. But th's not so. The King 's not bound to answer the particular endings of h's soldiers, the father of h's son, nor the master of h's servant; for they purpose not their death, when they purpose their services. Besides, there 's no king, be h's cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers. Some peradventure have on them the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that have before gored the gentle bosom of Peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law and outrun native pun'shment, though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God. War 's h's beadle, war 's h's vengeance; so that here men 're pun'sh’d for before-breach of the King’s laws in now the King’s quarrel. Where they fe'red the death, they have borne life away; and where they would be safe, they per'sh. Then if they die unprovided, no more 's the King guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they 're now v'sited. Every subject’s duty 's the King’s; but every subject’s soul 's h's own. Therefore should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in h's bed, wash every mote out of h's conscience; and dying so, death 's to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained; and in him that escapes, it were not sin to think that, making God so free an offer, He let him outlive that day to see H's greatness and to teach others how they should prep're.

so, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry u

Why it matters Henry's argument here is legally clever but theologically slippery — he separates the soldier's soul from the king's responsibility in a way that neatly absolves the monarch. Williams essentially accepts this — but the exchange leaves Henry, alone, haunted.

WILLIAMS

’Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head, the

King is not to answer for it.

’Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head, the King is not to answer for it.

’Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own

BATES

I do not desire he should answer for me; and yet I determine to fight

lustily for him.

I do not desire he should answer for me; and yet I determine to fight lustily for him.

I do not desire he should answer for me; and yet I determine

KING HENRY

I myself heard the King say he would not be ransom’d.

WILLIAMS

Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our throats are

cut, he may be ransom’d, and we ne’er the wiser.

Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our throats are cut, he may be ransom’d, and we ne’er the wiser.

Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our th

KING HENRY

If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.

🎭 Dramatic irony Henry swears he will never trust the King's word if he gets ransomed — then immediately commits himself to honoring the promise Williams thinks he made as a private man. The audience sees the trap Henry has set for himself.

WILLIAMS

You pay him then. That’s a perilous shot out of an elder-gun, that a

poor and a private displeasure can do against a monarch! You may as

well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a

peacock’s feather. You’ll never trust his word after! Come, ’tis a

foolish saying.

You pay him then. That’s a perilous shot out of an elder-gun, that a poor and a private displeasure can do against a monarch! You may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock’s feather. You’ll never trust his word after! Come, ’tis a foolish saying.

You pay him then. That’s a perilous shot out of an elder-gun

KING HENRY

Your reproof is something too round. I should be angry with you, if the

time were convenient.

Your reproof is something too round. I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.

Your reproof is something too round. I should be angry with

WILLIAMS

Let it be a quarrel between us if you live.

KING HENRY

I embrace it.

WILLIAMS

How shall I know thee again?

How shall I know you again?

how shall i know you again?

KING HENRY

Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet; then, if

ever thou dar’st acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.

Give me any gage of yours, and I will wear it in my bonnet; then, if ever you dar’st acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.

give me any gage of yours, and i will wear it in my bonnet; then, if ever you da

"gage" A 'gage' is a pledge or token — typically a glove — given as a challenge to combat. Exchanging gages was the formal way of entering into a quarrel of honor.

WILLIAMS

Here’s my glove; give me another of thine.

KING HENRY

There.

WILLIAMS

This will I also wear in my cap. If ever thou come to me and say, after

tomorrow, “This is my glove,” by this hand I will take thee a box on

the ear.

This will I also wear in my cap. If ever you come to me and say, after tomorrow, “This my glove,” by this hand I will take you a box on the ear.

Th's will I also wear in my cap. If ever you come to me and say, after tomorrow, “Th's my glove,” by th's hand I will take you a box on the ear.

this will i also wear in my cap. if ever you come to me and say, after tomorrow,

KING HENRY

If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it.

WILLIAMS

Thou dar’st as well be hang’d.

KING HENRY

Well, I will do it, though I take thee in the King’s company.

Well, I will do it, though I take you in the King’s company.

well, i will do it, though i take you in the king’s company.

WILLIAMS

Keep thy word; fare thee well.

Keep your word; fare you well.

Keep your word; f're you well.

keep your word; fare you well.

BATES

Be friends, you English fools, be friends. We have French quarrels

enough, if you could tell how to reckon.

Be friends, you English fools, be friends. We have French quarrels enough, if you could tell how to reckon.

Be friends, you English fools, be friends. We have French qu

KING HENRY

Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one they will beat

us, for they bear them on their shoulders; but it is no English treason

to cut French crowns, and tomorrow the King himself will be a clipper.

Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one they will beat us, for they bear them on their shoulders; but it is no English treason to cut French crowns, and tomorrow the King himself will be a clipper.

Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to one they

[_Exeunt soldiers._]

Upon the King! Let us our lives, our souls,

Our debts, our careful wives,

Our children, and our sins lay on the King!

We must bear all. O hard condition,

Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath

Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel

But his own wringing! What infinite heart’s ease

Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy!

And what have kings, that privates have not too,

Save ceremony, save general ceremony?

And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony?

What kind of god art thou, that suffer’st more

Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?

What are thy rents? What are thy comings in?

O Ceremony, show me but thy worth!

What is thy soul of adoration?

Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,

Creating awe and fear in other men?

Wherein thou art less happy being fear’d

Than they in fearing.

What drink’st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,

But poison’d flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,

And bid thy Ceremony give thee cure!

Think’st thou the fiery fever will go out

With titles blown from adulation?

Will it give place to flexure and low bending?

Canst thou, when thou command’st the beggar’s knee,

Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,

That play’st so subtly with a king’s repose;

I am a king that find thee, and I know

’Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball,

The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,

The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,

The farced title running ’fore the King,

The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp

That beats upon the high shore of this world,

No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous Ceremony,—

Not all these, laid in bed majestical,

Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,

Who with a body fill’d and vacant mind

Gets him to rest, cramm’d with distressful bread,

Never sees horrid night, the child of hell,

But, like a lackey, from the rise to set

Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night

Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn,

Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,

And follows so the ever-running year,

With profitable labour, to his grave:

And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,

Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,

Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.

The slave, a member of the country’s peace,

Enjoys it, but in gross brain little wots

What watch the King keeps to maintain the peace,

Whose hours the peasant best advantages.

Enter Erpingham.

ERPINGHAM ≋ verse

My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence,

Seek through your camp to find you.

My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence, Seek through your camp to find you.

My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence, Seek through

KING HENRY ≋ verse

Good old knight,

Collect them all together at my tent.

I’ll be before thee.

Good old knight, Collect them all together at my tent. I’ll be before you.

good old knight, collect them all together at my tent. i’ll be before you.

ERPINGHAM

I shall do’t, my lord.

[_Exit._]

KING HENRY ≋ verse

O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts.

Possess them not with fear. Take from them now

The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers

Pluck their hearts from them. Not today, O Lord,

O, not today, think not upon the fault

My father made in compassing the crown!

I Richard’s body have interred new,

And on it have bestow’d more contrite tears

Than from it issued forced drops of blood.

Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,

Who twice a day their wither’d hands hold up

Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built

Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests

Sing still for Richard’s soul. More will I do;

Though all that I can do is nothing worth,

Since that my penitence comes after all,

Imploring pardon.

O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear. Take from them now The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers Pluck their hearts from them. Not today, O Lord, O, not today, think not upon the fault My father made in compassing the crown! I Richard’s body have interred new, And on it have bestow’d more contrite tears Than from it issued forced drops of blood. Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, Who twice a day their wither’d hands hold up Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests Sing still for Richard’s soul. More will I do; Though all that I can do is nothing worth, Since that my penitence comes after all, Imploring pardon.

O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them no

"think not upon the fault / My father made in compassing the crown" Henry IV deposed and effectively murdered Richard II to take the throne — the original sin of his dynasty. Henry V has been carrying this guilt throughout the play, and here, on the eve of the battle where he needs God's favor most, it surfaces completely.

Why it matters This prayer is the most vulnerable moment in the play — the great king, alone in the dark, confessing that all his piety may not be enough to atone for his father's crime. It's the crack in the armor that makes the St. Crispin's Day speech possible to believe.

↩ Callback to 2-4 Henry's prayer about his father's seizure of Richard's crown connects directly back to 2 Henry IV and Richard II — the weight of usurpation has followed Henry V from his first scene.

Enter Gloucester.

GLOUCESTER

My liege!

KING HENRY ≋ verse

My brother Gloucester’s voice? Ay;

I know thy errand, I will go with thee.

The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.

My brother Gloucester’s voice? Ay; I know your errand, I will go with you. The day, my friends, and all things stay for me.

my brother gloucester’s voice? ay; i know your errand, i will go with you. the d

[_Exeunt._]

The Reckoning

This is the longest, most intellectually demanding scene in the play — the king stripped of his crown and forced to defend himself to men who don't know they're talking to him. Williams's challenge cuts deep: if the cause is unjust, every soul lost is on Henry's account. Henry's answer is brilliant and morally slippery at the same time. The soliloquy on Ceremony that follows is raw — a king who knows that all the trappings of kingship are hollow, and who carries his father's crime like a stone.

If this happened today…

Imagine a CEO of a company about to go into a brutal acquisition battle puts on a hoodie and joins his employees at a late-night working session without revealing who he is. Two junior employees start venting about how the whole strategy is reckless and if it goes wrong, the people at the bottom will pay while the boss gets a golden parachute. The CEO, in the hoodie, defends himself — technically, brilliantly — and can't resist making a bet about it. He goes back to his office, googles himself, and then just stares at the window thinking about how none of the Forbes profiles actually help him sleep.

Continue to 4.2 →