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Henry V
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  • ACT V: SCENE I

     
     Dramatis Personae 
     Prologue
     ACT I   i
     ACT I   ii
     ACT II  Prologue
     ACT II  i
     ACT II  ii
     ACT II  iii
     ACT II  iv
     ACT III Prologue
     ACT III i
     ACT III ii
     ACT III iii
     ACT III iv
     ACT III v
     ACT III vi
    
    
     ACT III vii
     ACT IV  Prologue
     ACT IV  i
     ACT IV  ii
     ACT IV  iii 
     ACT IV  iv
     ACT IV  v
     ACT IV  vi
     ACT IV  vii
     ACT IV  viii
     ACT V   Prologue
     ACT V   i
     ACT V   ii
     Epilogue
     Complete play
    


     Act V 

    
    ACT V: 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
    
    
    

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