Original: Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-brain.
Modern: Quiet down, you drunkards; quiet down, you wine-soaked fools.

Original: Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied:
Modern: Harry, I’m not just wondering where you spend your time, but also who you’re spending it with:

Original: for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted the sooner it wears.
Modern: because while the camomile plant grows stronger when stepped on, youth gets used up faster the more you waste it.

Original: That thou art my son, I have partly thy mother’s word, partly my own opinion,
Modern: That you are my son, I know partly from your mother’s word and partly from my own belief,

Original: but chiefly a villanous trick of thine eye and a foolish-hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me.
Modern: but mainly from that troublesome look in your eye and that stupid way your lower lip hangs, which proves it to me.

Original: If then thou be son to me, here lies the point; why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at?
Modern: If you are my son, then here’s the question: why, being my son, are you the target of so much criticism?

Original: Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher and eat blackberries?
Modern: Should the blessed sun in heaven turn out to be a truant who steals blackberries?

Original: a question not to be asked.
Modern: that’s a question that shouldn’t even be asked.

Original: Shall the sun of England prove a thief and take purses?
Modern: Should the prince of England turn out to be a thief who steals wallets?

Original: a question to be asked.
Modern: that’s a question that must be asked.

Original: There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of and it is known to many in our land by the name of pitch:
Modern: There is something, Harry, that you’ve heard about many times, and it’s known throughout our country by the name of tar:

Original: this pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest:
Modern: this tar, as old writers tell us, corrupts everything it touches; so does the company you keep:

Original: for, Harry, now I do not speak to thee in drink but in tears, not in pleasure but in passion, not in words only, but in woes also:
Modern: because, Harry, I’m not speaking to you while drunk but with tears, not in fun but with deep emotion, not just with words, but with real sorrow too:

Original: and yet there is a virtuous man whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name.
Modern: and yet there is one good man whom I’ve often seen in your company, but I don’t know his name.

Original: A goodly portly man, i’ faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye and a most noble carriage;
Modern: A fine stout man, truly, and rather fat; with a cheerful expression, a pleasant look in his eye, and a very noble way of carrying himself;

Original: and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by’r lady, inclining to three score;
Modern: and, as I estimate, he’s about fifty years old, or, by our Lady, closer to sixty;

Original: and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff:
Modern: and now I remember, his name is Falstaff:

Original: if that man should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks.
Modern: if that man turns out to be wicked, then he’s fooling me; because, Harry, I see goodness in his face.

Original: If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff:
Modern: If a tree can be judged by its fruit, just as fruit reveals the tree, then I say positively, there is goodness in that Falstaff:

Original: him keep with, the rest banish.
Modern: stay with him, and get rid of the rest.

Original: And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou been this month?
Modern: And tell me now, you wicked scoundrel, tell me, where have you been this past month?

Original: Depose me? if thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbit-sucker or a poulter’s hare.
Modern: Replace me? If you can do it half as seriously, half as royally, both in how you speak and what you say, then hang me upside down like a young rabbit or a poultry-seller’s hare.

In Act II, Scene iv of Henry IV, Part 1, Prince Hal and Falstaff are drinking at the Boar’s Head Tavern in Eastcheap when Poins arrives to inform them that he and Hal have successfully robbed Falstaff and his companions at Gad’s Hill, though Falstaff remains unaware of their involvement. Falstaff proceeds to tell an increasingly exaggerated account of the robbery, claiming he fought off numerous attackers and lost the stolen money in valiant combat. Hal and Poins allow Falstaff to embellish his tale further and further, with the number of supposed attackers growing from two to four to seven to nine to eleven men, all supposedly dressed in buckram.

The scene reaches its climax when Hal reveals the truth, confronting Falstaff with the fact that he and Poins were the ones who robbed him, and that Falstaff ran away without fighting at all. Rather than being embarrassed, Falstaff cleverly turns the situation to his advantage by claiming he recognized the Prince all along and deliberately fled because he would never raise his hand against the heir to the throne. The revelry is interrupted by the arrival of the sheriff and his men, who are searching for the thieves from Gad’s Hill. Hal hides Falstaff behind a tapestry and misleads the sheriff about Falstaff’s whereabouts, promising to make good on any losses and ensuring Falstaff will appear before authorities the next day if needed.

Henry IV, Part I follows the political and personal struggles of King Henry IV as he faces rebellion from powerful nobles while dealing with his wayward son, Prince Hal. The play opens with Henry’s guilt over having deposed Richard II and his disappointment in his eldest son, who spends his time in taverns with the disreputable Sir John Falstaff rather than at court. Meanwhile, the Percy family—led by Henry “Hotspur” Percy, his father the Earl of Northumberland, and his uncle the Earl of Worcester—grows increasingly resentful of the king’s treatment of them despite their crucial role in placing him on the throne.

The Percys form an alliance with Welsh rebel Owen Glendower and Scottish rebel the Earl of Douglas to overthrow Henry IV. Hotspur, a fiery young warrior obsessed with honor, becomes the rebellion’s military leader. Simultaneously, Prince Hal reveals in soliloquy that he deliberately maintains his dissolute reputation to make his eventual reformation more impressive. When his father confronts him about his behavior and unfavorably compares him to the noble Hotspur, Hal promises to redeem himself by defeating his rival in battle.

The rebellion comes to a head at the Battle of Shrewsbury, where the royal forces face the rebel army. During the battle, Prince Hal saves his father’s life and fulfills his promise by killing Hotspur in single combat, finally proving his worthiness as heir to the throne. Falstaff, who has been cowardly throughout the battle, claims credit for Hotspur’s death after discovering the body. The king’s forces win the battle, with Worcester and Douglas captured, though some rebels escape. The play concludes with the king’s victory secured but the realm’s troubles not entirely resolved, as other rebels remain at large and the crown’s stability depends on continued military action.