Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story,
That I may prompt them; and of such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit the excuse
Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented. Now we bear the King
Toward Calais; grant him there; there seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts
Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach
Pales in the flood with men, with wives and boys,
Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth’d sea,
Which like a mighty whiffler ’fore the King
Seems to prepare his way. So let him land,
And solemnly see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought that even now
You may imagine him upon Blackheath,
Where that his lords desire him to have borne
His bruised helmet and his bended sword
Before him through the city. He forbids it,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride;
Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent
Quite from himself to God. But now behold,
In the quick forge and working-house of thought,
How London doth pour out her citizens!
The mayor and all his brethren in best sort,
Like to the senators of th’ antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels,
Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in;
As, by a lower but loving likelihood,
Were now the general of our gracious empress,
As in good time he may, from Ireland coming,
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quit,
To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause,
Did they this Harry. Now in London place him;
As yet the lamentation of the French
Invites the King of England’s stay at home,
The Emperor’s coming in behalf of France,
To order peace between them;—and omit
All the occurrences, whatever chanc’d,
Till Harry’s back-return again to France.
There must we bring him; and myself have play’d
The interim, by rememb’ring you ’tis past.
Then brook abridgement, and your eyes advance
After your thoughts, straight back again to France.
Please allow those who don't know the story to let me prepare them, and for those who do, I humbly ask you to forgive me for not being able to present everything perfectly—there's too much history, too many soldiers, and too much time to show on stage. Now imagine we're taking the King toward Calais. Picture him there, and then send him across the sea on your imagination. Look at the English coast packed with men, women, and boys, whose cheers and applause are louder than the ocean itself. Like an official clearing the way for a ruler, the sea seems to prepare his path. Picture him landing and being escorted solemnly into London. Our minds work so fast that you can imagine him already at Blackheath, where his lords want him to carry his battle-damaged helmet and broken sword through the city as symbols of victory. But he refuses, too proud and virtuous to show off; instead, he gives all the glory to God. Now picture London emptying out—its people flowing out to see him! The mayor and all the important citizens march out like Roman senators, with common people following, to welcome their victorious commander. Just as many—or more—would leave their peaceful city if the general of our current queen were returning from Ireland right now with rebellion defeated on his sword. We have much more reason to celebrate this Henry. Picture him in London. The French are still sad and pleading for peace, and the Emperor is trying to negotiate between France and England. I've skipped over everything else that happened until Henry returns to France. We must bring him back there, and I myself have played the time in between by reminding you it's passed. Please forgive my shortening things and use your imagination to jump back to France with me.
Those of you who haven't read the story, let me catch you up. And for everyone else, I'm sorry I can't show you everything that's actually happened—there's just too much. So let's say we're taking the King to Calais. Picture him getting off the ship, then imagine him sailing back across the ocean. The whole English coast is lined with people—men, women, kids—all cheering so loud they're drowning out the sea. It's like the sea itself is rolling out a red carpet for him. Now imagine him landing and being led into London with full ceremony. Time moves so fast in our minds that you can already see him at Blackheath, where his generals want him to parade his battered armor through the city as trophies. But he won't do it—he's too humble and religious, won't take credit for it. He gives everything to God instead. So picture this: London is packed with people pouring out to see him! The mayor and all the big shots come out like Roman senators with the regular folks trailing behind, ready to welcome home their great commander. A modern general coming back from Ireland would get the same kind of welcome or more. We've got even more reason to celebrate this Henry. There he is in London. The French are still crying about it and trying to make peace. The Emperor's trying to set up negotiations. I've left out all the other stuff that happened between now and when Henry goes back to France. We'll bring him back there, and I've basically fast-forwarded time for you by reminding you it's already passed. Just go with me on this and imagine us back in France.
listen if u didn't know the story, here's the deal. can't show u everything that happened—too much stuff. henry's heading to calais. imagine him there, then sailing back across the sea. whole coast packed w/ ppl cheering. the sea itself is like rolling out a red carpet for him. now he's in london. his guys want him parading his battle armor thru the streets. but he's too humble—gives all the credit to god. london's going absolutely crazy. ppl pouring out like crazy to welcome him home. more celebration than u can imagine. the french are still upset & the emperor's trying to negotiate peace. i've skipped like everything that happens next. we're bringing him back to france soon. just picture us back there w/ me. time's passed, we're moving on.
Nay, that’s right; but why wear you your leek today?
Saint Davy’s day is past.
That's right, but why are you wearing your leek today? Saint Davy's day has already passed.
Okay, fair point. But why are you wearing that leek now? Saint Davy's day is over.
ok but like why u wearing the leek today? saint davy's day's already gone
There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. I will
tell you ass my friend, Captain Gower. The rascally, scald, beggarly,
lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, which you and yourself and all the world
know to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is
come to me and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me
eat my leek. It was in a place where I could not breed no contention
with him; but I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him
once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.
There are reasons and causes for everything, look here, friend Captain Gower. This worthless, sick, beggarly, lousy, boastful coward Pistol—and you and everyone knows he's just a nobody with no merit—he came to me and brought me bread and salt yesterday, look you, and told me to eat my leek. It was in a place where I couldn't start a fight with him, but I'm so determined that I'm going to wear this leek in my cap until I see him again, and then I'll tell him exactly what I think of him.
Look, there's a reason for everything, Captain Gower. That pathetic, diseased, worthless, lousy braggard Pistol—and you know as well as everyone else that he's got no real merit—came up to me yesterday with bread and salt and told me to eat my leek. It happened in a place where I couldn't really fight with him, but I'm determined. I'm going to keep wearing this leek in my cap until I see him again, and then I'm going to give him a piece of my mind.
there's reasons for everything, captain. pistol—that pathetic, worthless braggard—came at me yesterday w/ bread & salt telling me to eat my leek. it was somewhere i couldn't fight him then. but i'm gonna wear this leek in my cap until i see him again. then i'm gonna tell him exactly what i think.
Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
Oh, here he comes now, puffing up like a turkey-cock.
Oh look, here he comes, all puffed up like a turkey.
there he is, all puffed up like a turkey lmao
’Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. God pless you,
Anchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!
His puffing up and arrogance don't matter to me. God bless you, Ancient Pistol! You filthy, lousy coward, God bless you!
I don't care about him puffing up and looking tough. God bless you, Captain Pistol! You scummy, worthless knave, God bless you!
his puffing up don't matter to me. god bless u, pistol! u scummy lousy coward, god bless u!
Ha! art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Trojan,
To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web?
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
Are you crazy? Do you want to destroy me? Get away! The smell of that leek makes me sick.
You crazy? Are you trying to kill me? Get out of here! That leek smell is making me queasy.
u crazy?? u trying to destroy me? get away!! that leek smell is making me sick
I peseech you heartily, scurfy, lousy knave, at my desires, and my
requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek. Because, look
you, you do not love it, nor your affections and your appetites and
your digestions does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.
I beg you with all my heart, you filthy, lousy coward, please eat this leek, look you. Because, look you, you don't like it and your stomach won't accept it, I'm asking you to eat it anyway.
I'm begging you, you filthy, lousy coward, please eat this leek. I know you don't like it and your stomach will probably reject it, but I really need you to eat it.
please i'm begging u, u lousy coward. just eat this leek. i know u don't like it & it'll probably make u sick but eat it anyway
Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.
Not for all the Welsh riches in the world.
Not a chance. I'm not doing it for anything.
not happening. not for anything
There is one goat for you. [_Strikes him._] Will you be so good, scald
knave, as eat it?
There's a taste of that for you. Will you be so kind as to eat it now?
There's a little something for you. Come on, now will you eat it?
there's that. now will u eat it?
Pistol has been the comic shadow of Henry throughout the play: a false soldier opposed to a true king, a man whose words never match his deeds opposite a man whose every word becomes history. The leek scene is the final accounting. Fluellen's justice is domestic and specific — a cudgel and a vegetable — but it is also exact. And Gower's speech naming Pistol for what he is ('counterfeit cowardly knave') lands because we've watched the counterfeiting all play long. What gives Pistol's final speech its unexpected weight is that the defenses come down: he's old, Doll is dead, and all that's left is the plan to fake it. The miles gloriosus tradition — the bragging soldier — usually ends in exposure and laughter. Here it ends in exposure and something more like pity.
Base Trojan, thou shalt die.
You'll pay for this with your life.
You're going to regret that.
ur gonna die for that
You say very true, scald knave, when God’s will is. I will desire you
to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals. Come, there is sauce
for it. [_Strikes him._] You call’d me yesterday mountain-squire; but I
will make you today a squire of low degree. I pray you, fall to; if you
can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.
You're right, when it's God's will. But for now, I want you to stay alive and eat your food. Come on, there's sauce for it. You called me a mountain-squire yesterday, but today I'm going to make you a squire of low degree. Please, dig in; if you can make fun of a leek, you can certainly eat one.
You're right, when God decides it's time. But right now, I want you to stay alive and eat your meal. There's sauce here. You called me a mountain-squire yesterday, but today I'm making you a much humbler squire. Come on, eat it; if you can mock a leek, you can eat one.
ur right, when god wants it. but i want u alive for now & eating ur food. come on there's sauce. u called me mountain-squire yesterday? now ur a squire of low degree. if u can laugh at a leek u can eat one
Enough, captain; you have astonish’d him.
That's enough, captain; you've shocked him thoroughly.
Okay, that's enough. You've definitely gotten his attention.
ok that's enough. u got him good
I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his
pate four days. Bite, I pray you; it is good for your green wound and
your ploody coxcomb.
I'm telling you, I'll make him eat some of this leek, or I'll beat his head for the next four days. Bite, please; it's good for your fresh wound and your bloody bump.
Look, I'm going to make you eat some of this leek or I'll keep hitting your head for four days straight. Just bite it; it'll help with that cut and that bloody bump on your head.
i'm gonna make u eat this leek or beat ur head for four days. just bite it. it's good for ur wound & that bloody bump
Must I bite?
Must I bite?
Must I bite?
Must I bite?
Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and
ambiguities.
Yes, absolutely, without any doubt whatsoever, and no questions about it.
Yes, for sure. No doubt about it. No questions. That's final.
yes absolutely. no doubt. no questions.
By this leek, I will most horribly revenge. I eat and eat, I swear—
By this leek, I swear I will get the most terrible revenge. I'm eating it, I'm eating it, I swear—
I swear on this leek, I'm going to get a horrible revenge. I'm eating it, I'm eating it, I promise—
i swear on this leek i'm getting revenge. i'm eating it i'm eating it—
Eat, I pray you. Will you have some more sauce to your leek? There is
not enough leek to swear by.
Eat, please. Would you like some more sauce on your leek? There's not enough leek here to swear by.
Go on, eat. You want some more sauce? There's not enough leek left to make a proper oath on.
eat it. u want more sauce? there's not enough leek left to swear by lol
Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat.
Stop hitting me with that stick; you can see I'm eating.
Stop hitting me; look, I'm eating it!
stop hitting me i'm eating it ok??
Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you, throw none
away; the skin is good for your broken coxcomb. When you take occasions
to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at ’em; that is all.
Good luck to you, you filthy coward, with all my heart. No, please don't waste any of it; the skin is good for your cracked head. When you see leeks in the future, I only ask that you mock them; that's all.
Good luck with that, you cowardly knave, I mean it. Don't waste any of it; the skin's good for that crack on your head. In the future, when you see leeks, just make fun of them; that's all I ask.
good luck with that, u cowardly knave. don't waste it. the skin's good for ur cracked head. next time u see leeks, just make fun of them ok?
Good.
Good.
Good.
Good.
The Act 5 Chorus is the most topically pointed speech in all of Shakespeare's histories. The comparison between Henry and 'the general of our gracious empress' coming from Ireland was written when Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, had just departed for Ireland in March 1599 with enormous fanfare. The comparison dates the play precisely, and it is also a gamble: by the time the play was performed again, Essex had returned disastrously, been tried for treason, and executed. Shakespeare's confident analogy became embarrassingly wrong. Modern productions routinely cut this reference or quietly modernize it — but in its original context it shows Shakespeare writing a play that is fully aware of its political moment and willing to make bets on the future.
Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate.
Yes, leeks are good for you. Here, take this coin to help heal your head.
Yeah, leeks are great for you. Here's a coin to help with that head.
yeah leeks r good for u. here take this coin for ur head
Me a groat!
A groat for me?
You're giving me just a groat?
thats it? a groat??
Yes, verily and in truth you shall take it; or I have another leek in
my pocket, which you shall eat.
Yes, truly and honestly you will take it, or I have another leek in my pocket that you will eat.
Yes, honestly you're taking it, or I've got another leek right here in my pocket that you're going to eat.
yes u r taking it. or i got another leek in my pocket u can eat
I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.
I'm taking this coin as a down payment on my revenge.
I'm taking this coin as payment, and you can bet I'm coming back for revenge.
i'm taking this coin. & ur gonna pay for this when i get revenge
If I owe you anything I will pay you in cudgels. You shall be a
woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels. God be wi’ you, and keep
you, and heal your pate.
If I owe you anything, I will pay you with cudgel blows. You'll be a seller of wood, but you'll only buy cudgels from me. May God be with you and keep you and heal your head.
If I owe you anything, I'll pay you back with beatings. You'll be a woodsman, but the only thing you'll ever buy from me is more beatings. God be with you, keep you safe, and heal that head of yours.
if i owe u anything i'll pay u in beatings. ur gonna buy a lot of cudgels from me. god be w/ u & heal ur head
All hell shall stir for this.
All of hell will rise up because of this.
Hell itself is going to come after you for this.
all of hell's gonna come for u for this
Go, go; you are a couterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock at an
ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a
memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not avouch in your
deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking and galling at this
gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak
English in the native garb, he could not therefore handle an English
cudgel. You find it otherwise; and henceforth let a Welsh correction
teach you a good English condition. Fare ye well.
Go on, get out of here; you're a fake, cowardly knave. Are you going to mock an ancient tradition that was started out of respect and is worn as a memorable sign of past bravery, while you don't have the courage to back up your words with actions? I've seen you mocking and irritating this gentleman two or three times. You thought that because he couldn't speak English perfectly, he couldn't use an English cudgel. You've learned otherwise; and from now on, let this Welsh beating teach you how to behave like a proper Englishman. Goodbye.
Get out of here; you're a fake coward. You're mocking a Welsh tradition that's been around forever, started as a sign of honor and bravery, but you don't have the guts to actually back up anything you say. I've watched you make fun of and insult this man several times. You thought he couldn't handle a cudgel just because his English isn't perfect. Well, you were wrong. Now let this Welsh beating teach you to show some respect. Goodbye.
ur a fake coward. u mock an ancient tradition that means honor & bravery but u don't have the guts to back up ur words. i've watched u make fun of this guy multiple times. u thought he couldn't fight bc he doesn't speak perfect english. ur wrong. this beating's teaching u respect. bye.
Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now?
News have I, that my Doll is dead i’ the spital
Of malady of France;
And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.
Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs
Honour is cudgell’d. Well, bawd I’ll turn,
And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand.
To England will I steal, and there I’ll steal;
And patches will I get unto these cudgell’d scars,
And swear I got them in the Gallia wars.
Is fortune betraying me now? I've heard that my Doll has died in the hospital from French sickness, and that connection is completely cut off for me. I'm getting old, and my honor has been beaten out of my weary body. Well, I'll turn to crime, start working as a pimp or a pickpocket. I'll sneak back to England and steal there, and I'll put patches on these cudgel scars and swear I got them in the wars in France.
Is fate turning against me? I just found out my girlfriend Doll died in the hospital from French pox, and that's the end of that connection. I'm aging fast, and my dignity's been beaten right out of me. Okay, fine. I'll become a criminal—maybe a pimp or a pickpocket. I'll sneak back to England and steal there. I'll put patches on these beating scars and tell people I got them fighting in the French wars.
is fortune turning on me now? i heard my doll died in the hospital from french disease. there goes that. i'm getting old. my honor's been beaten out of me. fine. i'll become a criminal. pimp or pickpocket. i'm going back to england to steal. i'll patch these scars & tell ppl i got them in france
The Reckoning
This is the play's coda to its comic underworld — Pistol gets what's been coming to him since Act 1. Fluellen's revenge is more dignified than Pistol's blustering ever was. And then Pistol's final soliloquy lands with quiet devastation: Doll is dead, his dignity is gone, he's old, and all he has left is a plan to fake war wounds in England. After the heroism of Agincourt, here is where the war actually ends for the lowest soldier.
If this happened today…
After the company's great victory, the person who spent years pretending to be a warrior gets publicly humiliated by the quiet operations manager he'd been dismissing for years. His social media presence collapses. His girlfriend is gone. He's middle-aged, broke, and planning to fake injuries from the campaign to get sympathy at the pub. The glory moved on without him.