Nym is a corporal in Henry V’s army and one of the most minor yet morally complex characters in the play. He appears in the tavern scenes with Bardolph and Pistol, where he is portrayed as a man of few words but firm convictions—or at least, firm attachments to his own interests. His signature phrase, “that is the humour of it,” becomes a running joke, suggesting a man who observes the chaos around him with a kind of resigned acceptance, as if life’s injustices are simply matters of temperament and circumstance rather than right and wrong. Unlike Pistol, who blusters and performs, Nym is quieter, more calculating, and more willing to let others exhaust themselves through noise while he preserves his own energy.
Nym’s most significant moment comes early in Act Two, when he and Bardolph attempt to reconcile him with Pistol before they all march to France. The three men are former companions of Falstaff, and their scenes together carry an undertone of loss and disorder. Nym has lost his claim on the Hostess (Nell Quickly, now married to Pistol), and he approaches this betrayal with a stoicism that is both comic and slightly pathetic. He speaks of patience as “a tired mare” that will eventually bring him to action, yet he seems content to wait, to observe, and to extract small debts from his companions—a groat here, a promise there. When Bardolph is later hanged for theft, and we learn of Falstaff’s death, Nym is not present to mourn them, suggesting his emotional investment in these relationships was always shallow, pragmatic rather than passionate.
What makes Nym interesting is his quiet honesty in a world of lies and bombast. He sees through the pretensions of kingship and warfare; he knows that the promises made to soldiers are worth nothing once battle begins. His refusal to invest his whole self in any single loyalty—to Pistol, to Falstaff, to the King—marks him as a survivor rather than a hero. He is neither noble nor entirely dishonorable, but rather a man trying to get by in a world that offers common soldiers little reward for either virtue or courage. His early disappearance from the play suggests that such men, neither brave enough to die gloriously nor corrupt enough to profit greatly, are simply forgotten once the serious business of kingship and conquest begins.
