Act 5, Scene 1 — Henry V — Study Shakespeare

The argument The Chorus bridges the gap back to France; Fluellen forces Pistol to eat a leek; Pistol is left alone with the news that Doll is dead and resolves to become a thief in England.

CHORUS ≋ verse

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.

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 has 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 does 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.

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 Cala's; grant him there; there seen, Heave him away upon your winged thoughts Athwart the sea. Behold, the Engl'sh 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 prep're h's way. So let him land, And solemnly see him set on to London. So swift a pace has thought that even now You may imagine him upon Blackheath, Where that h's lords desire him to have borne H's bru'sed helmet and h's 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 does pour out her citizens! The mayor and all h's 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 h's sword, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause, Did they th's 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 ’t's past. Then brook abridgement, and your eyes advance After your thoughts, straight back again to France.

vouchsafe to those that have not read the story, that i may prompt them; and of

"Were now the general of our gracious empress" The most famous topical reference in Shakespeare's histories — written when Essex's Irish campaign was still in progress, before his catastrophic return and disgrace. It dates Henry V to early 1599.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

GOWER ≋ verse

Nay, that’s right; but why wear you your leek today?

Saint Davy’s day is past.

Nay, that’s right; but why wear you your leek today? Saint Davy’s day is past.

Nay, that’s right; but why wear you your leek today? Saint D

FLUELLEN

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 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 is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all thing

Enter Pistol.

GOWER

Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.

FLUELLEN

’Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. God pless you,

Anchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!

’Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. God pless you, Anchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!

’Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks. God p

PISTOL ≋ verse

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.

Ha! art you bedlam? Dost you thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web? Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.

Ha! art you bedlam? Dost you thirst, base Trojan, To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web? Hence! I am qualm'sh at the smell of leek.

ha! art you bedlam? dost you thirst, base trojan, to have me fold up parca’s fat

FLUELLEN

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 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 peseech you heartily, scurfy, lousy knave, at my desires,

PISTOL

Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.

FLUELLEN

There is one goat for you. [_Strikes him._] Will you be so good, scald

knave, as eat it?

There is one goat for you. [_Strikes him._] Will you be so good, scald knave, as eat it?

There is one goat for you. [_Strikes him._] Will you be so g

PISTOL

Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

Base Trojan, you shalt die.

base trojan, you shalt die.

FLUELLEN

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 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 say very true, scald knave, when God’s will is. I will d

GOWER

Enough, captain; you have astonish’d him.

FLUELLEN

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 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 say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will p

PISTOL

Must I bite?

FLUELLEN ≋ verse

Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and

ambiguities.

Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and ambiguities.

Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, an

PISTOL

By this leek, I will most horribly revenge. I eat and eat, I swear—

By this leek, I will most horribly revenge. I eat and eat, I

FLUELLEN

Eat, I pray you. Will you have some more sauce to your leek? There is

not enough leek to swear by.

Eat, I pray you. Will you have some more sauce to your leek? There is not enough leek to swear by.

Eat, I pray you. Will you have some more sauce to your leek?

PISTOL

Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat.

Quiet your cudgel; you dost see I eat.

quiet your cudgel; you dost see i eat.

FLUELLEN

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.

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.

Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you, thro

PISTOL

Good.

FLUELLEN

Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate.

Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal your p

PISTOL

Me a groat!

FLUELLEN

Yes, verily and in truth you shall take it; or I have another leek in

my pocket, which you shall eat.

Yes, verily and in truth you shall take it; or I have another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat.

Yes, verily and in truth you shall take it; or I have anothe

PISTOL

I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.

I take your groat in earnest of revenge.

i take your groat in earnest of revenge.

FLUELLEN

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 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 in cudgels. You shall b

[_Exit._]

PISTOL

All hell shall stir for this.

GOWER

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, 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, go; you 're 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 d're not avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking and galling at th's gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak Engl'sh in the native garb, he could not therefore handle an Engl'sh cudgel. You find it otherw'se; and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good Engl'sh condition. F're ye well.

go, go; you are a couterfeit cowardly knave. will you mock at an ancient traditi

Why it matters Gower's speech is the play's most direct verdict on Pistol — and it closes the Falstaff circle: the bragging soldier, all noise and no substance, is finally named for what he is.

[_Exit._]

PISTOL ≋ verse

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.

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.

Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now? News have I, that

Why it matters Pistol's final soliloquy is one of the saddest endings in Shakespeare's comic underworld — the man who was all bombast discovers he has nothing. Doll is dead, his body is beaten, his plan is to lie about the war he survived. It's not funny anymore.

↩ Callback to 2-3 Pistol's farewell to France mirrors his farewell to Eastcheap in 2-3 — but where that scene had defiant energy, this has only hollow plans and genuine grief. The war has broken him.

🎭 Dramatic irony Pistol plans to patch up his Fluellen-inflicted bruises and present them as battle wounds. The audience knows these aren't war wounds at all — they're the consequence of mocking something he should have respected.

[_Exit._]

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.

Continue to 5.2 →