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King Henry V: Act 5 Scene 1

PROLOGUE.

[Enter Chorus]

CHORUS

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 the 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 chanced,

Till Harry's back-return again to France:

There must we bring him; and myself have play'd

The interim, by remembering you 'tis past.

Then brook abridgment, and your eyes advance,

After your thoughts, straight back again to France.

[Exit]

Scene I France. The English camp.

[Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER]

GOWER

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

Saint Davy's day is past.

FLUELLEN

There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in

all things: I will tell you, asse 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 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.

[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, Aunchient Pistol! you

scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!

PISTOL

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.

FLUELLEN

I peseech you heartily, scurvy, 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 doo's not agree with it, I would

desire you to eat it.

PISTOL

Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.

FLUELLEN

There is one goat for you.

[Strikes him]

Will you be so good, scauld knave, as eat it?

PISTOL

Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

FLUELLEN

You say very true, scauld 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 called me yesterday mountain-squire; but I will

make you to-day a squire of low degree. I pray you,

fall to: if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.

GOWER

Enough, captain: you have astonished 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.

PISTOL

Must I bite?

FLUELLEN

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

too, and ambiguities.

PISTOL

By this leek, I will most horribly revenge: I eat

and eat, I swear--

FLUELLEN

Eat, I pray you: will you have some more sauce to

your leek? there is not enough leek to swear by.

PISTOL

Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat.

FLUELLEN

Much good do you, scauld 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.

PISTOL

Good.

FLUELLEN

Ay, leeks is good: hold you, there is a groat to

heal your pate.

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.

PISTOL

I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.

FLUELLEN

If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in cudgels:

you shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but

cudgels. God b' wi' you, and keep you, and heal your pate.

[Exit]

PISTOL

All hell shall stir for this.

GOWER

Go, go; you are a counterfeit 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.

[Exit]

PISTOL

Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now?

News have I, that my Nell 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 cudgelled. 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.

[Exit]