Five-Minute Henry V
by Lea Frost
by Lea Frost
Chorus: We know our play's low-budget. Use your imagination.
Archbishop of Canterbury: The King's trying to cut off Church revenue!
Henry V: You're sure we have an excuse to invade France?
Chorus: Everyone's off to war, but there are traitors after the King. We'll take you to Southampton to see what happens, but we'll do this other scene first. Hey, don't blame me, I'm just the Chorus.
Boy: Falstaff's really sick!
Henry: You know that drunk guy who was ranting about me the other day? I think I'll let him off with a warning.
Pistol: Well, Falstaff's dead.
French King: So, people, what should we do about our English problem?
Chorus: There's a battle going on! Again I say: use your imagination.
Henry: Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!
Fluellen: I'm Welsh!
Henry: Do you surrender, or do we have to come in and commit atrocities?
Katherine: Vous savez, l'anglais est une langue très méchant. ("You know, English is a very naughty language!")
Dauphin: Well, we got pasted. God, this is so embarrassing.
Pistol: They're going to hang Bardolph! Can't you do something about it?
Dauphin: Isn't it time to fight yet?
Chorus: Now pretend it's nighttime, and we're at the English camp, where everyone thinks they're going to die.
Henry: Hey, Sir Thomas! Hand over the cloak!
Henry: Being king really sucks. Everything's always your fault, and you can't even sleep at night.
Westmorland: You know, we could use more men.
(Lots of people fight and die, including York, Suffolk, the Constable of France, and a lot of Boys.)
Montjoy: Well, you guys won. Big time.
Chorus: The victory parties were great, but the budget won't allow us to show it.
Pistol: Well, the war's over and my wife died while I was away. I hear there's decent money in the pickpocketing business...
Burgundy: All right, people, let's talk treaty.
Chorus: Henry V died young and his son wrecked everything. Hope you liked the show!
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UN-DISCLAIMER: Nothing here is copyrighted by Paramount Pictures, and Will Shakespeare is long dead. Ergo, no disclaimers are necessary. In their faces.
All material © 2000, Lea Luecking Frost.