Original: Before God, I am exceeding weary.

Modern: I swear to God, I am extremely tired.

Original: Faith, it does me; though it discolours the complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it.

Modern: Honestly, it affects me too; though admitting it stains my royal reputation.

Original: Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer?

Modern: Doesn’t it make me look terrible to want cheap, weak beer?

Original: Belike then my appetite was not-princely got; for, by troth, I do now remember the poor creature, small beer.

Modern: I guess my taste wasn’t acquired in a princely way; because, honestly, I’m now thinking about that humble drink, small beer.

Original: But indeed these humble considerations make me out of love with my greatness.

Modern: But really, these ordinary thoughts make me dislike being royal.

Original: What a disgrace is it to me to remember thy name, or to know thy face to-morrow, or to take note how many pair of silk stockings thou hast—viz., these, and those that were thy peach-colour’d ones—or to bear the inventory of thy shirts—as, one for superfluity, and another for use!

Modern: What an embarrassment it is for me to remember your name, or recognize your face tomorrow, or notice how many pairs of stockings you own—like these, and those peach-colored ones—or keep track of your shirts—one extra and one you actually wear!

Original: But that the tennis-court-keeper knows better than I; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when thou keepest not racket there; as thou hast not done a great while, because the rest of thy low countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland.

Modern: But the tennis court attendant knows better than I do; because you’re running low on shirts when you don’t play tennis there anymore; which you haven’t done in a long time, because your “lower regions” have managed to use up all your fabric (through venereal disease).

Original: And God knows whether those that bawl out of the ruins of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom; but the midwives say the children are not in the fault, whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily strengthened.

Modern: And God knows if the illegitimate children born from your sexual escapades will go to heaven; but the midwives say the babies aren’t to blame, and this is how the world’s population grows and families expand.

In Act II, Scene 2 of Henry IV, Part 2, Prince Hal appears with Poins in London. The Prince and Poins discuss Hal’s position and behavior, with Hal expressing a complicated relationship with his public image and his concern about appearing to mourn his father’s illness while still keeping company with dissolute companions. Hal reveals that he has sent letters to various nobles but deliberately excluded Falstaff, acknowledging the impropriety of such an association given his father the King’s serious illness. Poins and Hal discuss the nature of their friendship, with the Prince defending himself against accusations of being a hypocrite while simultaneously acknowledging the awkwardness of his situation.

Bardolph enters and delivers a letter from Falstaff to the Prince. The letter is read aloud and reveals Falstaff’s florid and presumptuous writing style, addressing Hal in overly familiar terms and referencing Poins disparagingly. After reading the letter, the Prince and Poins discuss Falstaff’s activities, learning from Bardolph that the old knight is dining with Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet at the Boar’s Head Tavern in Eastcheap. The Prince and Poins devise a plan to disguise themselves as drawers (tavern servants) to spy on Falstaff and observe what he says about them in their absence, with Bardolph agreeing to help facilitate their scheme.

Henry IV, Part Two - Summary of Events

The play opens with Rumour spreading false news that Hotspur has defeated King Henry IV at Shrewsbury. Northumberland soon learns the truth: his son Hotspur is dead, and the rebellion has failed. Despite his grief and calls from his allies to continue the fight, Northumberland eventually flees to Scotland. Meanwhile, the rebel leaders—the Archbishop of York, Lord Mowbray, and Lord Hastings—gather forces for a new uprising against the King.

Prince Hal continues his time in the taverns of Eastcheap with Falstaff, Mistress Quickly, Doll Tearsheet, and his companions. Falstaff, deep in debt and pursued by the Hostess for unpaid bills, manipulates his way out of trouble and is eventually called to join the King’s forces. The King himself is gravely ill and troubled by insomnia, burdened by guilt over how he obtained the crown. He laments that Hal remains irresponsible and fears for England’s future under his son’s rule.

In Gaultree Forest, Prince John of Lancaster meets with the rebels under a flag of truce. He promises to address their grievances, and the rebel leaders dismiss their armies. Once the rebel forces disperse, Prince John arrests the leaders for treason and orders their execution. When the dying King Henry hears of this victory and later finds Hal with the crown at his bedside (believing him dead, Hal had taken it), father and son reconcile. Henry dies, and Hal becomes King Henry V.

As the new king, Henry V publicly rejects Falstaff, who arrives expecting rewards and favor. The King banishes his former companion from his presence, promises him support at a distance, but makes clear their relationship is over. The Lord Chief Justice is retained in his position, and the new king prepares to rule England. The epilogue promises that the story will continue with Henry V’s wars in France and hints that Falstaff will appear again.