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SHAKESPEARE'S 
 
 HENRY IV. PART FIRST. 
 
 INTRODUCTION, AND NOTES EXPLANATORY AND CRITICAL 
 
 FOR USE IN SCHOOLS AND FAMILIES. 
 
 Rev. HENRY N. HUDSON, LL.D. 
 
 GINN & COMPANY 
 
 BOSTON . NEW YORK • CHICAGO • LONDON 
 
USRARYofOONoRESSj 
 
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 Shakcspcariana - 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880. by 
 
 Henry N. Hudson, 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 26.4 
 
 GINN & COMPANY • PRO- 
 PRIETORS • BOSTON • U.S.A. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 History of the Play. 
 
 JOHNSON rightly observes that the First and Second 
 Parts of King Henry the Fourth are substantially one 
 drama, the whole being arranged as two only because too 
 long to be one. For this cause it seems best to regard 
 them as one in what follows, and so dispose of them both 
 together. The writing of them must be placed at least as 
 early as 1597, when the author was thirty-three years old. 
 The First Part was registered at the Stationers' for publi- 
 cation in February, 1598, and was published in the course of 
 that year. There were also four other quarto issues of the 
 play before the folio edition of 1623. The Second Part was 
 first published in 1600, and there is not known to have 
 been any other edition of it till it reappeared along with the 
 First Part in the folio. It is pretty certain, however, for 
 reasons to be stated presently, that the Second Part was 
 written before the entry of the First Part at the Stationers' 
 in 1598. 
 
 It is beyond question that the original name of Sir John 
 Falstaff was Sir John Oldcastle ; and a curious relic of 
 that naming survives in Act i. scene 2, where the Prince 
 calls Falstaff " my old lad of the castle." And we have 
 several other strong proofs of the fact ; as in the Epilogue 
 to the Second Part : " For any thing I know, Falstaff shall 
 die of a sweat, unless already he be killed with your hard 
 
4 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 opinions ; for Old castle died a martyr, and this is not the 
 man." Also, in Amends for Ladies, a play by Nathaniel 
 Field, printed in 1618 : " Did you never see the play where 
 the fat Knight, hight Oldcastle, did tell you truly what 
 this honour was?" which clearly alludes to Falstaff's so- 
 liloquy about honour in the First Part, Act v. scene 1. 
 Yet the change of name must have been made before the 
 play was entered in the Stationers' books, as that entry 
 mentions "the conceited mirth of Sir John Falstaff." 
 And we have one small but pretty decisive mark inferring 
 the Second Part to have been written before that change 
 was made : in the quarto edition of this Part, Act i. scene 2, 
 one of Falstaff's speeches has the prefix Old; the change 
 in that instance being probably left unmarked in the 
 printer's copy. All which shows that both Parts were 
 originally written long enough before February, 1598, for 
 the author to see cause for changing the name. 
 
 " Sir John Oldcastle, the good Lord Cobham," was much 
 distinguished as a Wicklifiite martyr, ancL his name was 
 held in high reverence by the Protestants in Shakespeare's 
 time. And the purpose of the change in question probably 
 was to rescue his memory from the profanations of the 
 stage. Thus much seems hinted in the forcited passage 
 from the Epilogue, and is further approved by what Fuller 
 says in his Church History : " Stage-poets have themselves 
 been very bold with, and others very merry at, the memory 
 of Sir John Oldcastle, whom they have fancied a boon com- 
 panion, jovial royster, and a coward to boot. The best is, 
 Sir John Falstaff hath relieved the memory of Sir John OkU 
 castle, and is substituted buffoon in his place." 
 
 Another motive for the change may have been the bettei 
 to distinguish Shakespeare's play from The Famous Victo- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 ries of Henry the Fifth ; a play which had been on the 
 stage some years, and wherein Sir John Oldcastle was 
 among the names of the Dramatis Personce, as were also 
 Ned and Gadshill. There is no telling with any certainty 
 when or by whom The Famous Victories was written. It 
 is known to have been on the boards as early as 1588, 
 because one of the parts was acted by Tarleton, the cele- 
 brated comedian, who died that year. And Nash, in his 
 Pierce Penniless, 1592, thus alludes to it: "What a glo- 
 rious thing it is to have Henry the Fifth represented on 
 the stage, leading the French King prisoner, and forcing 
 him and the Dauphin to swear fealty," It was also entered 
 at the Stationers' in 1594; and a play called Harry the 
 Fifth, probably the same, was performed in 1595 ; and not 
 less than three editions of it were printed. All which tells 
 strongly for its success and popularity. The action of the 
 play extends over the whole time occupied by Shakespeare's 
 King Henry the Fourth and King Henry the Fifth. The 
 Poet can hardly be said to have built upon it or borrowed 
 from it at all, any further than taking the above-mentioned 
 names. The play is indeed a most wretched and worthless 
 performance ; being altogether a mass of stupid vulgarity ; 
 at once vapid and vile ; without the least touch of wit in 
 the comic parts, or of poetry in the tragic ; the verse being 
 such only to the eye ; Sir John Oldcastle being a dull, low- 
 minded profligate, uninformed with the slightest felicity of 
 thought or humour ; the Prince, an irredeemable compound 
 of ruffian, blackguard, and hypocrite ; and their compan- 
 ions, the fitting seconds of such principals : so that to have 
 drawn upon it for any portion or element of Shakespeare's 
 King Henry the Fourth were much the same as "extract- 
 ing sunbeams from cucumbers." 
 
6 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 Abstract of the Historic Matter. 
 
 In these plays, as in others of the same class, the Poet's 
 authority was Holinshed, whose Chronicles, first published 
 in 1577, was then the favourite book in English history. 
 And the plays, notwithstanding their wealth of ideal matter, 
 are rightly called historical, because the history everywhere 
 guides, and in a good measure forms, the plot, whereas 
 Macbeth, for instance, though having much of historical 
 matter, is rightly called a tragedy, as the history merely 
 subserves the plot. 
 
 King Henry the Fourth, surnamed Bolingbroke from the 
 place of his birth, came to the throne in 1399, having first 
 deposed his cousin, Richard the Second, whose death he 
 was generally thought to have procured shortly after. The 
 chief agents in this usurpation were the Percys, known in 
 history as Northumberland, Worcester, and Hotspur, three 
 haughty and turbulent noblemen, who afterwards troubled 
 Henry to keep the crown as much as they had helped him 
 in getting it. 
 
 The lineal heir to the crown next after Richard was 
 Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, a lad then about seven 
 years old, whom the King held in a sort of honourable 
 custody. Early in his reign, one of the King's leading 
 partisans in Wales went to insulting and oppressing Owen 
 Glendower, a chief of that country, who had been trained 
 up in the English Court. Glendower petitioned for redress, 
 and was insultingly denied ; whereupon he took the work 
 of redress into his own hands. Sir Edmund Mortimer, 
 uncle to the young Earl of March, and brother to Hotspur's 
 wife, was sent against him ; but his forces were utterly 
 broken, and himself captured and held in close confinement 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 by Glendower, where the King suffered him to lie unran- 
 somed, alleging that he had treacherously allowed himself 
 to be taken. Shakespeare, however, following Holinshed, 
 makes the young Earl, who was then detained at Windsor to 
 have been Glendower's prisoner. 
 
 After the captivity of Mortimer the King led three armies 
 in succession against Glendower, and was as often baffled by 
 the valour or the policy of the Welshman. At length the 
 elements made war on the King; his forces were storm- 
 stricken, blown to pieces by tempests ; which bred a general 
 belief that Glendower could "command the Devil," and 
 "call spirits from the vasty deep." The King finally gave 
 up and withdrew ; but still consoled himself that he yielded 
 not to the arms, but to the magic arts of his antagonist. 
 
 In the beginning of his reign the King led an army into 
 Scotland, and summoned the Scottish King to appear before 
 him and do homage for his crown ; but, finding that the 
 Scots would neither submit nor fight, and being pressed by 
 famine, he gave over the undertaking and retired. Some 
 while after, Earl Douglas, at the head of ten thousand men, 
 burst into England, and advanced as far as Newcastle, 
 spreading terror and havoc around him. On their return 
 they were met by the Percys at Homildon where, after a 
 fierce and bloody battle, the Scots were totally routed ; 
 Douglas himself being captured, as were also many other 
 Scottish noblemen, and among them the Earl of Fife, a 
 prince of the blood royal. The most distinguished of the 
 English leaders in this affair was Henry Percy, surnamed 
 Hotspur; a man of the most restless, daring, fiery, and 
 impetuous spirit, who first armed at the age of twelve 
 years, after which time, it is said, his spur was never cold. 
 
 Of the other events suffice it to say that they are much 
 
8 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 the same in history as in the drama ; while the Poet's selec- 
 tion and ordering of them yield no special cause for remark. 
 One or two points, however, it may be well to notice as 
 throwing some light on certain allusions in the play. 
 
 In the Spring of 1405, Prince Henry, then in his nine- 
 teenth year, was at the head of an army in Wales, where 
 Glendower had hitherto carried all before him. By his 
 activity, prudence, and perseverance, the young hero gradu- 
 ally broke the Welshman down, and at length reduced the 
 whole country into subjection. He continued in this ser- 
 vice most of the time for four years ; his valour and conduct 
 awakening the most favourable expectations, which however 
 were not a little dashed by his rampant hilarity during the 
 intervals of labour in the field. His father was much grieved 
 at these irregularities ; and his grief was heightened by some 
 loose and unfilial words that were reported to him as having 
 fallen from the Prince in hours of merriment. Hearing of 
 this, the Prince went to expostulate with his father ; yet even 
 then he enacted a strange freak of oddity, arraying himself 
 in a gown of blue satin wrought full of eyelet-holes, and at 
 each eyelet the needle still hanging by the silk; probably 
 meaning to intimate thereby, that if his behaviour, his moral 
 garb, were full of rents, it was not too late to sew them up, 
 and the means were at hand for doing so. Being admitted 
 to an interview, he fell on his knees and, presenting a dag- 
 ger, begged the King to take his life, since he had with- 
 drawn his favour. His father, much moved, threw away 
 the dagger, and, kissing him, owned with tears that he had 
 indeed held him in suspicion, though, as he now saw, with- 
 out just cause ; and promised that no misreports should 
 thenceforth shake his confidence in him. 
 
 At another time, one of his unruly companions being con- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 victed of felony, and sentenced to prison by the Chief Jus- 
 tice, the Prince undertook to rescue him, and even went so 
 far as to assault the Judge ; who forthwith ordered him to 
 prison also, and he had the good sense to submit. Upon 
 being told this incident, the King exclaimed, "Happy the 
 King that has a judge so firm in his duty, and a son so 
 obedient to the law ! " 
 
 Perhaps I should add, that the battle of Homildon was 
 fought September 14, 1402 ; which marks the beginning of 
 the play. The battle of Shrewsbury, which closes the First 
 Part, took place July 21, 1403; Prince Henry being then 
 only sixteen years old. The King died March 19, 14 13 ; so 
 that the two plays cover a period of about ten years and a 
 half. 
 
 Character of the King. 
 
 If these two plays are substantially one, it is the character 
 of Prince Henry that makes them so ; that is, they have 
 their unity in hint; and the common argument of them lies 
 in the change alleged to have taken place in him on coming 
 to the throne. Why was Henry of Monmouth so loose and 
 wild a reveller in his youth, and yet such a proficient in noble 
 and virtuous discipline in his manhood ? what causes, internal 
 and external, determined him to the one ; what impulses 
 from within, what influences from without, transformed him 
 into the other? Viewed in the light of this principle, the 
 entire work, with its broad, rich variety of incident and char- 
 acter, and its alternations of wit and poetry, will be seen, I 
 think, to proceed in a spirit of wise insight and design. 
 
 Accordingly, in the first scene of the play, this matter is 
 put forth as uppermost in the King's thoughts. I refer to 
 what passes between him and Westmoreland touching the 
 
IO KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 victory at Homildon ; where the Earl declares " it is a con- 
 quest for a prince to boast of," and the King replies, 
 
 Yea, there thou makest me sad, and makest me sin, 
 
 In envy that my Lord Northumberland 
 
 Should be the father to so blest a son ; 
 
 Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, 
 
 See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
 
 Of my young Harry. O, that it could be proved 
 
 That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged 
 
 In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, 
 
 And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet ! 
 
 Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. 
 
 One reason of Prince Henry's early irregularities seems to 
 have grown from the character of his father. All accounts 
 agree in representing Bolingbroke as a man of great reach 
 and sagacity ; a politician of inscrutable craft, full of insinua- 
 tion, brave in the field, skilful alike at penetrating others* 
 designs and at concealing his own; unscrupulous alike in 
 smiling men into his service and in crunching them up 
 after he had used them. All which is fully borne out in 
 that, though his reign was little else than a series of rebel- 
 lions and commotions proceeding in part from the injustice 
 whereby he reached the crown and the bad title whereby 
 he held it, yet he always got the better of them, and even 
 turned them to his advantage. Where he could not win 
 the heart, cutting off the head, and ever plucking fresh 
 security out of the dangers that beset him ; his last years, 
 however, were much embittered, and his death probably 
 hastened, by the anxieties growing out of his position, and 
 the remorses consequent upon his crimes. 
 
 But, while such is the character generally ascribed to him, 
 no historian has come near Shakespeare in the painting of 
 it. Much of his best transpiration is given in the preceding 
 
INTRODUCTION. 1 1 
 
 play of Richard the Second, where he is the controlling 
 spirit. For, though Richard is the more prominent charac- 
 ter in that play, this is not as the mover of things, but as 
 the receiver of movements caused by another ; the effects 
 lighting on him, while the worker of them is comparatively 
 unseen. For one of Bolingbroke's main peculiarities is, 
 that he looks solely to results ; and, like a true artist, the 
 better to secure these he keeps his designs and processes in 
 the dark ; his power thus operating so secretly, that in what- 
 ever he does the thing seems to have done itself to his 
 hand. How intense his enthusiasm, yet how perfect his 
 coolness and composure ! Then too how pregnant and 
 forcible, always, yet how calm and gentle, and at times how 
 terrible, his speech ! how easily and unconcernedly the 
 words drop from him, yet how pat and home they are to 
 the persons for whom and the occasions whereon they are 
 spoken ! To all which add a flaming thirst of power, a 
 most aspiring and mounting ambition, with an equal mix- 
 ture of humility, boldness, and craft, and the result explains 
 much of the fortune that attends him through all the plays 
 in which he figures. For the Poet keeps him the same man 
 throuilkout. 
 
 it, taking the whole delineation together, we have, at 
 
 jrth and done to the life, the portrait of a man in act 
 
 bold, decisive, in thought sly, subtle, far-reaching ; 
 
 :ter hard and cold indeed to the feelings, but written 
 
 with success ; which has no impulsive gushes or 
 
 it all is study, forecast, and calm suiting of means 
 
 ^pointed ends. And this perfect self-command is in 
 
 frt the secret of his strange power over others, mak- 
 
 almost as pliant to his purposes as are the cords 
 
 and m^|cles of his own body; so that, as the event proves, 
 
12 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 he grows great by their feeding, till he can compass food 
 enough without their help, and, if they go to hindering him, 
 can eat them up. For so it turned out with the Percys ; 
 strong sinews indeed with him for a head; while, against 
 him, their very strength served but to work their own over- 
 throw. 
 
 Some points of this description are well illustrated in 
 what Hotspur says of him just before the battle of Shrews- 
 bury, in the speech beginning, 
 
 The King is kind ; and well we know the King 
 Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. 
 
 Hotspur, to be sure, exaggerates a good deal there, as he 
 does everywhere, still his charges have a considerable basis 
 of truth. - As further matter to the point, observe the ac- 
 count which the King gives of himself when remonstrat- 
 ing with the Prince against his idle courses ; which is not 
 less admirable for truth of history than for skill of pencil. 
 Equally fine, also, is the account of his predecessor immedi- 
 ately following that of himself; where we see that he has 
 the same sharp insight of men as of means, and has made 
 Richard's follies and vices his tutors ; from his miscarriages 
 learning how to supplant him, and perhaps encouraging his 
 errors, that he might make a ladder of them, to mount up 
 and overtop him. The whole scene indeed is pregnantly 
 characteristic both of the King and the Prince. And how 
 the King's penetrating and remorseless sagacity is flashed 
 forth in Hotspur's outbursts of rage at his demanding all the 
 prisoners taken at Homildon S wherein that roll of living fire 
 is indeed snappish enough, but then he snaps out much 
 truth. 
 
 But, though policy was the leading trait in this able man, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 nevertheless it was not so prominent but that other and bet- 
 ter traits were strongly visible. And even in his policy there 
 was much of the breadth and largeness which distinguish the 
 statesman from the politician. Besides, he was a man of 
 prodigious spirit and courage, had a real eye to the interests 
 of his country as well as of his family, and in his wars he was 
 humane much beyond the custom of his time. And in the 
 last scene of the Poet's delineation of him, where he says to 
 the Prince, 
 
 Come hither, Harry ; sit thou by my bed, 
 And hear, I think, the very latest counsel 
 That ever I shall breathe ; 
 
 though we have indeed his subtle policy working out like a 
 ruling passion strong in death, still its workings are suffused 
 with gushes of right feeling, enough to show that he was not 
 all politician ; that beneath his close-knit prudence there was 
 a soul of moral sense, a kernel of religion. Nor must I omit 
 how the Poet, following the leadings both of nature and his- 
 tory, makes him to be plagued by foes springing up in his 
 own bosom in proportion as he ceases to be worried by exter- 
 nal enemies • the crown beginning to scald his brows as soon 
 as he has crushed those who would pluck it from him. 
 
 The Hotspur of the North. 
 
 How different is the atmosphere which waits upon the 
 group of rebel war-chiefs, whereof Hotspur is the soul, and 
 where chivalry reigns as supremely as wit and humour do in 
 the haunts of Falstaff ! It is difficult to speak of Hotspur 
 satisfactorily ; not indeed but that the lines of his character 
 are bold and emphatic enough, but rather because they are 
 so much so. For his frame is greatly disproportioned, which 
 
14 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 causes him to seem larger than he is ; and one of his excesses 
 manifests itself in a wiry, red-hot speech, which burns such 
 an impression of him into the mind as to make any commen- 
 tary seem prosaic and dull. There is no mistaking him : no 
 character in Shakespeare stands more apart in plenitude of 
 peculiarity ; and stupidity itself cannot so disfeature him with 
 criticism, but that he will be recognized by any one who has 
 ever been with him. He is as much a monarch in his sphere 
 as the King and Falstaff are in theirs ; only they rule more 
 by power, he by stress : there is something in them that takes 
 away the will and spirit of resistance ; he makes every thing 
 bend to his arrogant, domineering, capricious temper. Who 
 that has been with him in the scenes at the Palace and at 
 Bangor can ever forget his bounding, sarcastic, overbearing 
 spirit ? How he hits all about him, and makes the feathers fly 
 wherever he hits ! It seems as if his tongue could go through 
 the world, and strew the road behind it with splinters. And 
 how steeped his speech everywhere is in the poetry of the 
 sword ! In what compact and sinewy platoons and squad- 
 rons the words march out of his mouth in bristling rank and 
 file ! as if from his birth he had been cradled on the iron 
 breast of war. How doubly- charged he is, in short, with the 
 electricity of chivalry ! insomuch that you can touch him 
 nowhere but he gives you a shock. 
 
 In those two scenes, what with Hotspur, and what with 
 Glendower, the poetry is as unrivalled in its kind as the wit 
 and humour in the best scenes at Eastcheap. What a dress- 
 ing Hotspur gives the silken courtier who came to demand 
 the prisoners ! Still better, however, is the dialogue that 
 presently follows in the same scene ; where Hotspur seems 
 to be under a spell, a fascination of rage and scorn : nothing 
 can check him, he cannot check himself; because, besides 
 
INTRODUCTION. 1 5 
 
 the boundings . of a most turbulent and impetuous nature, he 
 has always had his own way, having from his boyhood held 
 the post of a feudal war- chief. Irascible, headstrong, impa- 
 tient, every effort to arrest or divert him only produces a new 
 impatience. Whatever thought strikes him, it forthwith kin- 
 dles into an overmastering passion that bears down all before 
 it. We see that he has a rough and passionate soul, great 
 strength and elevation of mind, with little gentleness and 
 less delicacy, and a " force of will that rises into poetry by 
 its own chafings." While "the passion of talk" is upon 
 him, he fairly drifts and surges before it till exhausted, and 
 then there supervenes an equal " passion of action." " Speak- 
 ing thick " is noted as one of his peculiarities ; and it is not 
 clear whether the Poet took this from some tradition respect- 
 ing him, or considered it a natural result of his prodigious 
 rush and press of thought. 
 
 Another striking trait in Hotspur, resulting perhaps, in 
 part, from his having so much passion in his head, is the 
 singular absence of mind so well described by Prince Henry : 
 "I am not of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the North ; he 
 that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, 
 washes his hands, and says to his wife, Fie upon this quiet 
 life / I want work, O, my sweet Harry ! says she, how 
 many hast thou killed to-day? Give my roan horse a 
 drench, says he ; and answers, an hour after, Some fourteen ; 
 a trifle, a trifle /" So again in the scene of Hotspur and 
 his wife at Warkworth. She winds up her strain of tender 
 womanly remonstrance by saying, 
 
 Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
 And I must know it, else he loves me not. 
 
 Before answering her, he calls in a servant, makes several 
 
1 6 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 inquiries about his horse, and orders him to be brought into 
 the park, hears her reproof, and exchanges divers questions 
 with her ; then replies, " Love ! I love thee not ; I care not 
 for thee, Kate " ; and presently heals up the wound : 
 
 Come, wilt thou see me ride ? 
 And when I am o' horseback I will swear 
 I love thee infinitely. 
 
 Here it is plain that his absence grows from a certain skit- 
 tishness of mind : he has not the control of his thinking ; 
 the issues of his brain being so conceived in fire as to pre- 
 clude steadiness of attention and the pauses of thought. 
 
 The qualities I have noted in Hotspur unfit him, in a 
 great measure, for a military leader in regular warfare, his 
 nature being too impulsive and heady for the counterpoise 
 of so weighty an undertaking. Too impatient and eager 
 for the contest to concert operations ; abundantly able to 
 fight battles, but not to scheme them ; he is qualified to 
 succeed only in the hurly-burly of border warfare, where 
 success comes more by fury of onset than by wisdom of 
 plan. All which is finely apparent just before the battle 
 of Shrewsbury, where, if not perversely wrong-headed, he 
 is so headstrong, peremptory, and confident even to rash- 
 ness, as to be quite impracticable. We see, and his fellow- 
 chieftains see, that there is no coming to a temper with 
 him ; he being sure to run a quarrel with any one who 
 stands out against his proposals. Yet he is never more 
 truly the noble Hotspur than on this occasion, when, amidst 
 the falling-off of friends, the backwardness of allies, and 
 the thickening of dangers, his ardent and brave spirit turns 
 his very disadvantages into grounds of confidence. 
 
 His untamed boisterousness of tongue has one of its best 
 
INTRODUCTION. I J 
 
 eruptions in the dispute with Glendower at Bangor, where 
 his wit and his impudence come in for about equal shares 
 of our admiration. He finally stops the mouth of his an- 
 tagonist, or heads him off upon another subject, as he does 
 again shortly after, in a dispute about the partitioning of 
 the realm ; and he does it not so much by force of reason 
 as of will and speech. His contempt of poetry is highly 
 characteristic ; though it is observable that he has spoken 
 more poetry than any one else in the play. But poetry is 
 altogether an impulse with him, not a purpose, as it is with 
 Glendower; and he loses all thought of himself and his 
 speech, in the intensity of passion with which he contem- 
 plates the object or occasion that moves him. His celebrated 
 description of the fight between Glendower and Mortimer 
 has been censured as offending good taste by its extrava- 
 gance. It would not be in good taste indeed to put such 
 a strain into the mouth of a contemplative sage, like Pros- 
 pero ; but in Hotspur its very extravagance is in good taste, 
 because hugely characteristic. 
 
 Hotspwr is a general favourite : whether from something 
 in himself or from the King's treatment of him, he has our 
 good-will from the start ; nor is it without some reluctance 
 that we set the Prince above him in our regard. Which 
 may be owing in part to the interest we take, and justly, in 
 his wife ; who, timid, solicitous, affectionate, and playful, is 
 a woman of the true Shakespearian stamp. How delectable 
 is the harmony felt between her prying, inquisitive gentle- 
 ness and his rough, stormy courage ! for in her gentleness 
 there is much strength, and his bravery is not without gen- 
 tleness. The scene at Warkworth, where they first appear 
 together, is a choice heart-refection : combining the beauty 
 of movement and of repose, it comes into the surrounding 
 elements like a patch of sunshine in a tempest. 
 
1 8 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 Glendower the Magician. 
 
 The best of historical matter for poetical and dramatic 
 uses has seldom been turned to better account that way 
 than in the portrait of Glendower. He is represented, with 
 great art and equal truth, according to the superstitious be- 
 lief of his time ; a belief in which himself doubtless shared : 
 for, if the winds and tempests came when he wished them, 
 it was natural for him to think, as others thought, that they 
 came because he wished them. The popular ideas respect- 
 ing him all belonged to the region of poetry ; and Shake- 
 speare has given them with remarkable exactness, at the 
 same time penetrating and filling them with his own spirit. 
 
 Crediting the alleged portents of his nativity, Glendower 
 might well conclude he was "not in the roll of common 
 men " ; and so betake himself to the study and practice of 
 those magic arts which were generally believed in then, 
 and for which he was specially marked by his birth and all 
 the courses of his life. And for the same cause he would 
 naturally become somewhat egotistical, long-winded, and 
 tedious ; presuming that what was interesting to him as re- 
 lating to himself would be equally so to others for its own 
 sake. So that we need not altogether discredit Hotspur's 
 account of the time spent by him "in reckoning up the 
 several devils' names that were his lacqueys." For, though 
 Hotspur exaggerates here, as usual, yet we see that he has 
 some excuse for his sauciness to Glendower, in that he has 
 been dreadfully bored by him. And there is something 
 ludicrous withal in the Welshman's being so wrapped up 
 in himself as not to perceive the unfitness of talking thus to 
 one so hare-brained and skittish. 
 
 Glendower, however, is no ordinary enthusiast. A man 
 
INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 of wild and mysterious imaginations, yet he has a practical 
 skill that makes them tell against the King ; his dealing in 
 magic rendering him even more an object of fear than his 
 valour and conduct. And his behaviour in the disputes 
 with Hotspur approves him as much superior in the exter- 
 nal qualities of a gentleman as he is more superstitious. 
 Though no suspicion of any thing false or mean can attach 
 to Hotspur, it is characteristic of him to indulge his haughty 
 temper even to the thwarting of his purpose : he will hazard 
 the blowing-up of the conspiracy rather than put a bridle on 
 his impatience ; which the Welshman, with all his grandeur 
 and earnestness of pretension, is too prudent to do. 
 
 In the portrait of Glendower there is nothing unwarranted 
 by history ; only Shakespeare has with marked propriety 
 made the enthusiastic and poetical spirit of the man send 
 him to the study of magic arts, as involving some natural 
 aptitude or affinity for them. It may be interesting to know 
 that he managed to spin out the contest among the wilds of 
 Snowdon far into the next reign ; his very superstition per- 
 haps lending him a strength of soul which no misfortune 
 could break. I must not leave this strange being without 
 remarking how sweetly his mind nestles in the bosom of 
 poetry ; as appears in the passage where he acts as inter- 
 preter between his daughter and her husband Mortimer. 
 
 Minor Historical Characters. 
 
 Among the minor historical characters of these plays 
 there is much judicious discrimination. — Lord Bardolph is 
 shrewd and sensible, of a firm practical understanding, and 
 prudent forecast ; and none the less brave, that his cool 
 judgment puts him upon looking carefully before he leaps. — 
 
20 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 Vernon, with his well-poised discretion in war-council and 
 his ungrudging admiration of the Prince, makes a happy foil 
 to Hotspur, whose intemperate daring in conduct, and whose 
 uneasiness at hearing Prince Henry's praises spoken, would 
 something detract from his manhood, but that no suspicion 
 of dishonour can fasten upon him. — The Archbishop, so 
 forthright and strong-thoughted, bold, enterprising, and reso- 
 lute in action, in speech grave, moral, and sententious, forms, 
 all together, a noble portrait. — The Chief Justice, besides 
 the noble figure he makes at the close, is, with capital dra- 
 matic effect, brought forward several times in passages at 
 arms with Falstaff ; where his good-natured wisdom, as dis- 
 covered in his suppressed enjoyment of the fat old sinner's 
 wit, just serves to sweeten without at all diluting the rever- 
 ence that waits upon his office and character. — Northumber- 
 land makes good his character as found in history. Evermore 
 talking big and doing nothing ; full of verbal tempest and 
 practical impotence ; and still ruining his friends, and at last 
 himself, between "I would" and "I dare not"; he lives 
 without our respect, and dies unpitied of us ; while his 
 daughter-in-law's remembrance of her noble husband kin- 
 dles a sharp resentment of his mean-spirited backwardness, 
 and a hearty scorn of his blustering verbiage. 
 
 Delineation of the Prince. 
 
 Prince Henry was evidently a great favourite with the 
 Poet. And he makes him equally so with his readers : pour- 
 ing the full wealth of his genius upon him ; centring in him 
 almost every manly grace and virtue, and presenting him as 
 the mirror of Christian princes and loadstar of honour; a 
 model at once cf a hero, a gentleman, and a sage. Wherein, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 if not true to fact, he was true to the sentiment of the English 
 people ; who probably cherished the memory of Henry the 
 Fifth with more fondness than any other of their kings since 
 the great Alfred. 
 
 In the character of this man Shakespeare deviated from 
 all the historical authorities known to have been accessible to 
 him. Later researches, however, have justified his course 
 herein, and thus given rise to the notion of his having drawn 
 from some traditionary matter that had not yet found a place 
 in written history. An extraordinary conversion was gener- 
 ally thought to have fallen upon the Prince on coming to the 
 crown ; insomuch that the old chroniclers could only account 
 for the change by some miracle of grace or touch of super- 
 natural benediction. Walsingham, a contemporary of the 
 Prince, tells us that "as soon as he was invested with the 
 ensigns of royalty he was suddenly changed into a new man, 
 behaving with propriety, modesty, and gravity, and showing 
 a desire to practise every kind of virtue." Caxton, also, says 
 " he was a noble prince after he was king and crowned ; how- 
 beit in his youth he had been wild, reckless, and spared 
 nothing of his lusts nor desires." And various other old 
 writers speak of him in the same strain. 
 
 Prince Henry's conduct was indeed such as to lose him 
 his seat in the Council, where he was replaced by his younger 
 brother. Nevertheless it is certain that in mental and literary 
 accomplishment he was in advance of his age ; being in fact 
 one of the most finished gentlemen as well as greatest states- 
 men and best men of his time. This seeming contradiction 
 is all cleared up in the Poet's representation. It was for the 
 old chroniclers to talk about his miraculous conversion : 
 Shakespeare, in a far wiser spirit, and more religious too, 
 brings his conduct within the ordinary rules of human char- 
 
22 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 acter ; representing whatever changes occur in him as pro- 
 ceeding by the methods and proportions of nature. His early 
 " addiction to courses vain " is accounted for by the character 
 of Falstaff ; it being no impeachment of his intellectual or 
 moral manhood, that he is drawn away by such a mighty 
 magazine of fascinations. It is true, he is not altogether 
 unhurt by his connection with Sir John : he is himself sensi- 
 ble of this ; and the knowledge goes far to justify his final 
 treatment of Falstaff. But, even in his wildest merry-mak- 
 ings, we still taste in him a spice and flavour of manly recti- 
 tude ; undesigned by him indeed, and the more assuring to 
 us, that he evidently does not taste it himself. Shakespeare 
 has nothing finer in its way than the gradual sundering of the 
 ties that bind him to Falstaff, as the higher elements of his 
 nature are called forth by emergent occasions ; and his turn- 
 ing the dregs of unworthy companionship into food of noble 
 thought and sentiment, extracting the sweetness of wisdom 
 from the weeds of dangerous experiences. And his whole 
 progress through this transformation, till " like a reappearing 
 star " he emerges from the cloud of wildness wherein he had 
 obscured his contemplation, is dappled with rare spots of 
 beauty and promise. 
 
 At the battle of Shrewsbury, as already stated, the Prince 
 was sixteen years old. But, young as he was, he did the 
 work of a man, never ceasing to fight where the battle was* 1 
 hottest ; though so badly hurt in the face, that much effort^ 
 was used to withdraw him from the field. So that in fact 
 he was some twenty years younger than Hotspur. Such a 
 difference of age would naturally foreclose any rivalry between 
 them ; and one of the Poet's most judicious departures from 
 literal truth is in approximating their ages, that such influences 
 might have a chance to work. The King, too, displays his 
 
INTRODUCTION. 23 
 
 '.sual astuteness in endeavouring to make the fame of Hot- 
 spur tell upon the Prince ; though he still strikes wide of his 
 real character, misderiving his conduct from a want of noble 
 aptitudes, whereas it springs rather from a lack of such motives 
 and occasions with which his better aptitudes can combine. 
 But the King knows right well there is matter in him that 
 will take fire when such sparks are struck into it. Accord- 
 ingly, before they part, the Prince speaks such words, and in 
 such a spirit, as to win his father's confidence ; the emulation 
 kindled in him being no less noble than the object of it. 
 Now it is that his many-sided, harmonious manhood begins 
 fully to unfold itself. He has already discovered forces 
 answering to all the attractions of FalstarT; and it is to be 
 hoped that none will think the worse of him for preferring 
 the climate of Eastcheap to that of the Court. Bnt the issue 
 proves that he has far better forces, which sleep indeed dur- 
 ing the absence, but spring forth at the coming, of their 
 proper stimulants and opportunities. In the close-thronging 
 dangers that beset his father's throne he has noble work to 
 do ; in the thick-clustering honours of Hotspur, noble motives 
 for doing it ; and the two together furnish those more con- 
 genial attractions whereby he is gradually detached from a 
 life of hunt-sport, and drawn up into the nobly-proportioned 
 beauty with which both poetry and history have invested him. 
 In this delineation are many passages over which the 
 lover of poetry and manhood delights to linger; but it 
 would be something out of keeping with my method to 
 quote any of them. Nor can I dwell on the many gentle 
 and heroic qualities that make up Prince Henry's well- 
 rounded beautiful character. His tenderness of filial piety 
 appears in his heart-bleeding grief at his father's sickness ; 
 and his virtuous prudence no less appears in his avoiding 
 
24 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 all show of grief, as knowing that this, taken together wjro- 
 his past levity, will be sure to draw on him the imputation 
 of hypocrisy : his magnanimity appears in his pleading for 
 the life of Douglas ; his ingenuousness, in the free and 
 graceful apology to the King for his faults ; his good-nature 
 and kindness of heart, in the apostrophe to Falstaff when he 
 thinks him dead ; his chivalrous generosity, in the enthusi- 
 asm with which he praises Hotspur; and his modesty, in 
 the style of his challenge to him. And yet his nobilities of 
 heart and soul come along in such easy, natural touches, 
 they drop out so much as the spontaneous issues of his life, 
 that we hardly notice them, thus engaging him our love 
 and honour, we scarce know how or why. Great without 
 effort, and good without thinking of it, he is indeed a noble 
 ornament of the princely character. 
 
 Dramatic Use of Falstaff. 
 
 I have already observed how Prince Henry's deportment 
 as King was in marked contrast with his course while Prince 
 of Wales. I have also noted that the change in him on 
 coming to the throne was so great and so sudden as to be 
 popularly ascribed to a miracle of grace. Now Shakespeare 
 knew that the day of miracles was passed. He also knew 
 that without a miracle such a sudden revolution of character 
 could not be. And so his idea clearly was, that the change 
 was not really in his character, but only superinduced upon 
 it by change of position ; that his excellent qualities were 
 but disguised from the world by clouds of loose behaviour, 
 which, when the time came, he threw off, and appeared as 
 he really was. To translate the reason and process of this 
 change into dramatic form and expression was the problem 
 which the Poet undertook to solve in these two plays. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 2$ 
 
 ' In his delineation of the Prince Shakespeare followed 
 the historians as far as they gave him any solid ground to 
 go upon ; where they failed him, he supplied the matter 
 from his own stores. Now in all reason Prince Hal must 
 have had companions in the merry-makings which are re- 
 lated of him ; for no man of sense goes into such pastimes 
 alone. But of the particular persons " unletter'd, rude, and 
 shallow," with whom he had "his hours filPd up with riots, 
 banquets, sports," nothing was known, not even their names. 
 So that the Poet had no way to set forth this part of the 
 man's life but by creating one or more representative char- 
 acters, concentrating in them such a fund of mental attrac- 
 tions as might overcome the natural repugnance of an 
 upright and noble mind to their vices. Which is just what 
 the Poet does in this instance. And his method was, to em- 
 body in imaginary forms that truth of which the actual 
 forms had not been preserved ; for, as Hallam well ob- 
 serves, " what he invented is as truly historical, in the large 
 sense of moral history, as what he read." 
 
 From the account already given of Bolingbroke it is plain 
 enough what state of things would be likely to wait on him. 
 His great force of character would needs give shape and 
 tone to Court and Council-board, while his subtlety and 
 intricacy might well render the place any thing but inviting 
 to a young man of free and generous aptitudes. That the 
 Prince, as Shakespeare conceived him, should breathe some- 
 what hard in such an atmosphere, is not difficult to under- 
 stand. However he may respect such a father, and though 
 in thought he may even approve the public counsels, still he 
 relucts to share in them, as going against his grain ; and so 
 is naturally drawn away either to such occupations where his 
 high-strung energies can act without crossing his honourable 
 
26 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 feelings, or else to some tumultuous merry-makings w± ; th 
 laying off all distinct purpose, and untying his mind into 
 perfect dishabille, he can let his bounding spirits run out in 
 transports of frolic and fun. The question then is, to what 
 sort of attractions will he betake himself? It must be no 
 ordinary companionship that yields entertainment to such a 
 spirit even in his loosest moments. Whatever bad or ques- 
 tionable elements may mingle in his mirth, it must have some 
 fresh and rich ingredients, some sparkling and generous 
 flavour, to make him relish it. Any thing like vulgar rowdy- 
 ism cannot fail of disgusting him. His ears were never 
 organized to that sort of music. 
 
 Here then we have a sort of dramatic necessity for the 
 character of Falstaff. To answer the purpose, it was imper- 
 ative that he should be just such a marvellous congregation 
 of charms and vices as he is. None but an old man could 
 be at once so dissolute and so discerning, or appear to think 
 so much like a wise man even when talking most unwisely ; 
 and he must have a world of wit and sense, to reconcile a 
 mind of such native rectitude and penetration to his profli- 
 gate courses. In the qualities of Sir John we can easily see 
 how the Prince might be the madcap reveller that history 
 gives him out, and yet be all the while laying in choice 
 preparations of wisdom and virtue, so as to need no other 
 conversion than the calls of duty and the opportunities of 
 noble enterprise. 
 
 Character of Falstaff. 
 
 FalstafFs character is more complex than can well be 
 digested into the forms of logical statement ; which makes 
 him a rather impracticable subject for analysis. He has so 
 much, or is so much, that one cannot easily tell what he is. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 2? 
 
 Diverse and even opposite qualities meet in him ; yet they 
 poise so evenly, blend so happily, and work together so 
 smoothly, that no generalities can set him off; if we under- 
 take to grasp him in a formal conclusion, the best part of 
 him still escapes between the fingers ; so that the only way 
 to give an idea of him is to take the man himself along 
 and show him ; and who shall do this with " plump Jack " ? 
 One of the wittiest of men, yet he is not a wit; one of 
 the most sensual of men, still he cannot with strict justice 
 be called a sensualist ; he has a strong sense of danger and 
 a lively regard to his own safety, a peculiar vein indeed of 
 cowardice, or something very like it, yet he is not a coward ; 
 he lies and brags prodigiously, still he is not a liar nor a 
 braggart. Any such general descriptions applied to him can 
 serve no end but to make us think we understand him when 
 we do not. 
 
 If I were to fix upon any one thing as specially charac- 
 teristic of Falstaff, I should say it is an amazing fund of 
 good sense. His stock of this, to be sure, is pretty much all 
 enlisted in the service of sensuality, yet nowise so but that 
 the servant still overpeers and outshines the master. Then 
 too his thinking has such agility, and is at the same time so 
 pertinent, as to do the work of the most prompt and popping 
 wit; yet in such sort as to give the impression of some- 
 thing much larger and stronger than wit. For mere wit, be 
 it ever so good, requires to be sparingly used, and the more 
 it tickles the sooner it tires ; like salt, it is grateful as a sea- 
 soning, but will not do as food. Hence it is that great 
 wits, unless they have great judgment too, are so apt to be 
 great bores. But no one ever wearies of Falstaff' s talk, 
 who has the proper sense for it ; his speech being like pure 
 fresh cold water, which always tastes good because it is 
 
28 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 tasteless. The wit of other men seems to be some special 
 faculty or mode of thought, and lies in a quick seizing of 
 remote and fanciful affinities ; in Falstaff it lies not in any 
 one thing more than another, for which cause it cannot be 
 denned : and I know not how to describe it but as that 
 roundness and evenness of mind which we call good sense, 
 so quickened and pointed indeed as to produce the effect of 
 wit, yet without hindrance to its own proper effect. To 
 use a snug idiomatic phrase, what Falstaff says always fits 
 all round. 
 
 And Falstaff is well aware of his power in this respect. 
 He is vastly proud of it too ; yet his pride never shows 
 itself in an offensive shape, his good sense having a certain 
 instinctive delicacy that keeps him from every thing like 
 that. In this proud consciousness of his resources he is 
 always at ease ; hence in part the ineffable charm of his 
 conversation.* Never at a loss, and never apprehensive 
 that he shall be at a loss, he therefore never exerts him- 
 self, nor takes any concern for the result ; so that nothing 
 is strained or far-fetched : relying calmly on his strength, 
 he invites the toughest trials, as knowing that his powers 
 will bring him off without any using of the whip or the 
 spur, and by merely giving the rein to their natural brisk- 
 ness and celerity. Hence it is also that he so often lets go 
 all regard to prudence of speech, and thrusts himself into 
 tight places and predicaments : he thus makes or seeks 
 occasions to exercise his fertility and alertness of thought, 
 being well assured that he shall still come off uncornered, 
 and that the greater his seeming perplexity, the greater 
 will be his triumph. Which explains the purpose of his 
 incomprehensible lies : he tells them, surely, not expecting 
 them to be believed, but partly for the pleasure he takes ro 
 
INTRODUCTION. 20, 
 
 the excited play of his faculties, partly for the surprise he 
 causes by his still more incomprehensible feats of dodging. 
 Such is his story about the men in buckram who grew so 
 soon from two to eleven ; and how " three misbegotten 
 knaves in Kendall green came at my back, and let drive at 
 me ; — for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy 
 hand"; — lies which, as himself knows well enough, are 
 "gross as a mountain, open, palpable." These, I take it, 
 are studied self-exposures, to invite an attack. Else why 
 should he thus affirm in the same breath the colour of the 
 men's clothes and the darkness of the night? The whole 
 thing is clearly a scheme, to provoke his hearers to come 
 down upon him, and then witch them with his facility and 
 felicity in extricating himself. And so, when they pounce 
 upon him, and seem to have him in their toils, he forthwith 
 springs a diversion upon them : 
 
 Prince. What trick, what device, what starting-hole canst thou now find 
 out, to hide thee from this open and apparent shame ? 
 
 Fals. By the Lord, I knew ye as well as He that made ye. Why, hear 
 ye, my masters : was it for me to kill the heir-apparent ? Should I turn 
 upon the true Prince? Why, thou know'st I am as valiant as Hercules; 
 but beware instinct : the lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a 
 great matter : I was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself 
 and thee during my life ; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. 
 
 To understand this aright, we must bear in mind, that 
 according to the general rule of succession Prince Henry 
 was not the true prince. Legally considered, his father was 
 an usurper ; and he could have no right to the crown but in 
 virtue of some higher law. This higher law is authenti- 
 cated by FalstarT's instinct. The lion, king of beasts, knows 
 royalty by royal intuition. 
 
 Such is the catastrophe for which the foregoing acts, the 
 hacking of his sword, the insinuations of cowardice, the 
 
30 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 boastings, and the palpable lies, were the prologue and 
 preparation. So that his course here is all of a piece with 
 his usual practice of involving himself in difficulties, the 
 better to set off his readiness at shifts and evasions ; know- 
 ing that, the more he gets entangled in his talk, the richer 
 will be the effect when by a word he slips off the entangle- 
 ment. I am persuaded that Sir John suspected all the 
 while who their antagonists were in the Gads-hill robbery ; 
 but determined to fall in with and humour the joke, on 
 purpose to make sport for the Prince and himself, and at 
 the same time to retort their deception by pretending igno- 
 rance. 
 
 We have similar feats of dodging in the scene where Fal- 
 staff rails at the Hostess for keeping a house where pockets 
 are picked, and also at the Prince for saying that his ring 
 was copper. The Prince entering just then, the Hostess 
 tells him of the affair, Falstaff goes to railing at her again, 
 and she defends herself ; which brings on the following : 
 
 Prince. Thou sayest true, Hostess ; and he slanders thee most grossly. 
 
 Host. So he doth you, my lord ; and said, this other day, you ought him 
 a thousand pound. 
 
 Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound ? 
 
 Fals. A thousand pound, Hal ! a million ! Thy love is worth a million ; 
 thou owest me thy love. 
 
 Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said he would cudgel you. 
 
 Fals. Did I, Bardolph ? 
 
 Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so. 
 
 Fals. Yea ; if he said my ring was copper. 
 
 Prince. I say 'tis copper : darest thou be as good as thy word now ? 
 
 Fals. Why, Hal, thou know'st, as thou art but man, I dare ; but, as thou 
 art prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp. 
 
 Prince. And why not as the lion ? 
 
 Fals. The King himself is to be feared as the lion. Dost thou think I'll 
 fear thee as I fear thy father ? 
 
 Prince. Sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty in this 
 
INTRODUCTION. 3 1 
 
 bosom of thine. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket ! Why, 
 thou impudent, emboss'd rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but 
 tavern-reckonings, and one poor pennyworth of sugar-candy to make thee 
 long-winded; if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but 
 these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it ; you will not pocket up 
 wrong : art thou not ashamed ! 
 
 Fals. Dost thou hear Hal? Thou know'st, in the state of innocency 
 Adam fell : and what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villainy ? 
 Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty, 
 
 In all these replies there is clearly nothing more to be 
 said. And thus, throughout, no exigency turns up but that 
 Sir John is ready with a word that exactly fits into and fills 
 the place. And his tactics lie not in turning upon his pur- 
 suers and holding them at bay ; but, when the time is ripe, 
 and they seem to have caught him, he instantaneously 
 diverts them upon another scent, or else enchants them into 
 a pause by his nimble-footed sallies and escapes. 
 
 Elsewhere the same faculty shows itself in a quick turn- 
 ing of events to his own advantage ; as at the battle of 
 Shrewsbury, when, being assailed by Douglas, he falls down 
 as if killed, and in that condition witnesses the fall of Hot- 
 spur; and then claps up a scheme for appropriating the 
 honour of his death. The stratagem must be given in his 
 own words : 
 
 'Sblood ! 'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid 
 me scot and lot too. Counterfeit ! I lie ; I am no counterfeit : to die, is to 
 be a counterfeit ; for he is but the counterfeit of a man who hath not the 
 life of a man : but to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be 
 no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed. The bettei 
 part of valour is discretion ; in the which better part I have saved my life. — 
 Zwounds! I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though he be dead. How, 
 if he should counterfeit too, and rise ? By my faith, I am afraid he would 
 prove the better counterfeit. Therefore I'll make him sure; yea, and I'll 
 swear I killed him. Why may not he rise as well as I ? Nothing confutes 
 me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, sirrah, with a new wound in 
 your thigh, come you along with me. 
 
32 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 He then shoulders the body and walks off. Presently he 
 meets the Prince and his brother John, throws down the 
 body, and we have the following : 
 
 Fals. There is Percy ! if your father will do me any honour, so ; if not, 
 jet him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or duke, I can 
 assure you. 
 
 Prince. Why, Percy I killed, myself, and saw thee dead. 
 
 Fals. Didst thou ! — Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying ! — I 
 grant you I was down and out of breath, and so was he ; but we rose both 
 at an instant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be 
 believed, so ; if not, let them that should reward valour bear the sin upon 
 their own heads. I'll take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the 
 thigh : if the man were alive, and would deny it, zwounds ! I would make 
 him eat a piece of my sword. 
 
 Here his action as exactly fits into and fills the place as 
 his words do in other cases. He carries the point, not by 
 disputing the Prince's claim, but by making it appear that 
 they both beat down the valiant Hotspur in succession. If 
 the Prince left Hotspur dead, he saw Falstaff dead too. 
 And Falstaff most adroitly clinches his scheme by giving 
 this mistake such a turn as to accredit his own lies. 
 
 It has been said that Shakespeare displays no great force 
 of invention ; and that in the incidents of his dramas he 
 borrows much more than he originates. It is true, he dis- 
 covers no pride nor prodigality of inventiveness ; he shows 
 indeed a noble indifference on that score ; cares not to get 
 up new plots and incidents of his own where he finds them 
 ready-made to his hand. Which is to me, as I have else- 
 where remarked, good evidence that he prized novelty in 
 such things at its true worth, and chose to spend his force 
 on the weightier matters of his art. But he is inventive 
 enough whenever he has occasion to be so ; and in these 
 incidents about Falstaff, as in hundreds of others, he shows 
 
INTRODUCTION. 33 
 
 a fertility and aptness of invention in due measure and keep- 
 ing with his other gifts. 
 
 Falstaff finds special matter of self-exultation in that the 
 tranquil, easy contact and grapple of his mind acts as 9 
 potent stimulus on others, provided they be capable of it, 
 lifting them up to his own height. " Men of all sorts," says 
 he, " take a pride to gird at me. The brain of this foolish- 
 compounded clay, man, is not able to invent any thing that 
 tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me ; 
 I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in 
 other men." Here it is plain that he is himself proud of 
 the pride that others take in girding at him ; he enjoys their 
 wit even more than they do, because he is the begetter of it. 
 He is the flint, to draw sparks from their steel, and himself 
 shines by the light he causes them to emit. For, in truth, 
 to laugh and to provoke laughter is with him the chief end 
 of man. Which is further shown in what he says of Prince 
 John : " Good faith, this same young, sober-blooded boy 
 doth not love me ; nor a man cannot make him laugh." He 
 sees that the brain of this dry youth has nothing for him to 
 get hold of or work upon ; that, be he ever so witty in him- 
 self, he cannot be the cause of any wit in him ; and he is 
 vexed and chagrined that his wit fails upon him. And John- 
 son, speaking of Prince John's frosty-hearted virtue, well 
 remarks that " he who cannot be softened into gayety cannot 
 easily be melted into kindness." And, let me add, none 
 are so hopeless as they that have no bowels. Austere boys 
 are not apt to make large-souled men. And it was this same 
 strait-laced youth who, in the history as in the play, after- 
 wards broke faith with the Archbishop and other insurgent 
 leaders near York, snapping them up with a mean and cruel 
 act of perfidy, and, which is more, thought the better of him- 
 
34 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 self for having done so. I suspect Prince Henry is nearer 
 Heaven in his mirth than Prince John in his prayers ! 
 
 This power of generating wit and thought in others is 
 what, in default of entertainment for his nobler qualities, 
 attracts the Prince ; who evidently takes to Sir John chiefly 
 for the mental excitement of his conversation. And, on the 
 other hand, Falstaff's pride of wit is specially gratified in the 
 fascination he has over the Prince ; and he spares no pains, 
 scruples no knavery, to work diversion for him. Witness 
 what he says to himself when tempering Justice Shallow 
 " between his finger and his thumb " : "I will devise matter 
 enough out of this Shallow to keep Prince Harry in continual 
 laughter the wearing-out of six fashions. O, it is much that 
 a lie with a slight oath, and a jest with a sad brow, will do 
 with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders. O, 
 you shall see him laugh, till his face be like a wet cloak ill 
 laid up." 
 
 Nor has Falstaff any difficulty in stirring up congenial 
 motions in the Prince, insomuch that the teacher sometimes 
 has enough to do to keep his leading. Falstaff is the same 
 in this respect when the Prince is away ; indeed his wit is 
 never more fluent and racy than in his soliloquies. But it 
 is not so with the Prince ; as appears in his occasional 
 playing with other characters, where he is indeed sprightly 
 and sensible enough, but wants the nimbleness and raciness 
 of wit which he displays in conversation with Sir John. 
 The cause of which plainly is, that Falstaff has his wit in 
 himself; the Prince, in virtue of FalstafPs presence. With 
 Sir John the Prince is nearly as great as he in the same 
 kind ; without him, he has none of his greatness ; though 
 he has a greatness of his own which is far better, and which 
 Falstaff is so far from having in himself, that he cannot even 
 
INTRODUCTION. 35 
 
 perceive it in another. Accordingly it is remarkable that 
 Prince Henry is the only person in the play who understands 
 Falstaff, and the only one too whom Falstaff does not under- 
 stand. 
 
 One of Sir John's greatest triumphs is in his first scene 
 with the Chief Justice ; the purpose of that scene being, 
 apparently, to justify the Prince in yielding to his fascina- 
 tions, by showing that there is no gravity so firm but he 
 can thaw it into mirth, provided it be the gravity of a fertile 
 and genial mind. And so, here, the sternness with which 
 this wise and upright man begins is charmed into playfulness 
 before he gets through. He slides insensibly into the style 
 of Sir John, till at last he falls to downright punning. He 
 even seems to draw out the interview, that he may taste the 
 delectable spicery of Falstaffs talk ; and we fancy him laugh- 
 ing repeatedly in his sleeve while they are talking, and then 
 roaring himself into stitches directly he gets out of sight. 
 Nor, unless our inward parts be sadly out of gear, can we 
 help loving and honouring him the more for being drawn 
 into such an intellectual frolic by such an intellectual player. 
 
 Palstaff's Humour. 
 
 Coleridge denies that Falstaff has, properly speaking, any 
 humour. Coleridge is high authority indeed ; nevertheless 
 I cannot so come at Sir John but that his whole mental 
 structure seems pervaded with a most grateful and refresh- 
 ing moisture ; nor can I well understand any definition of 
 humour that would exclude him from being among the 
 greatest of all both verbal and practical humourists. Just 
 think of his proposing Bardolph, — an offscouring and pack- 
 age of dregs which he has picked up, nobody can guess 
 
$6 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 wherefore, unless because his face has turned into a per- 
 petual blush and carbuncle; — just think of his proposing 
 such a person for security, and that too to one who knows 
 them both ! To my sense, his humour is shown alike in 
 the offer of such an endorser and in what he says about the 
 refusal of it. And in his most exigent moments this juice 
 keeps playing in with rarely- exhilarating effect, as in the 
 exploit at Gadshill and the battle of Shrewsbury. And 
 everywhere he manifestly takes a huge pleasure in referring 
 to his own peculiarities, and putting upon them the most 
 grotesque and droll and whimsical constructions, no one 
 enjoying the jests that are vented on him more than he does 
 himself. 
 
 Falstaff's overflowing humour results in a placid good- 
 nature towards those about him, and attaches them by the 
 mere remembrance of pleasure in his company. The tone 
 of feeling he inspires is well shown in what the Hostess says 
 when he leaves her for the wars : " Well, fare thee well : I 
 have known thee these twenty-nine years, come peascod- 
 time ; but an honester and truer-hearted man — : well, fare 
 thee well." She wants to say some good of him which she 
 cannot quite say, it is so glaringly untrue ; the only in- 
 stance, by the way, of her being checked by any scruples 
 on that score. This feeling of the Hostess is especially 
 significant in view of what has passed between them. She 
 cannot keep angry at him, because in his roughest speeches 
 there is something tells her it is all a mere carousal of his 
 wits. Even when she is most at odds with him, a soothing 
 word at once sweetens her thoughts ; so that, instead of 
 pushing him for the money he has borrowed, she pawns her 
 plate, to lend him ten pounds more. 
 
 And so in regard to his other associates : he often abuses 
 
INTRODUCTION. 37 
 
 them outrageously, so far as this can be done by words, yet 
 they are not really hurt by it, and never think of resenting it. 
 Perhaps, indeed, they do not respect him enough to feel 
 resentment towards him. But, in truth, the juiciness of his 
 spirit not only keeps malice out of him, but keeps others from 
 imputing it to him. Then too he lets off as great tempests 
 of abuse upon himself, and means just as much by them : 
 they are but exercises of his powers, and this, merely for the 
 exercise itself ; that is, they are play ; having indeed a kind 
 of earnestness, but it is the earnestness of sport. Hence, 
 whether alone or in company, he not only has all his faculties 
 about him, but takes the same pleasure in exerting them, if 
 it may be called exertion ; for they always seem to go of their 
 own accord. It is remarkable that he soliloquizes more than 
 any of the Poet's characters except Hamlet ; thought being 
 equally an everspringing impulse in them both, though, to be 
 sure, in very different forms. 
 
 His Practical Sagacity. 
 
 Nor is Falstaffs mind tied to exercises of wit and humour. 
 He is indeed the greatest of make-sports, but he is some- 
 thing more. (He must be something more, else he could 
 not be that.) He has as much practical sagacity and pene- 
 tration as the King. Except the Prince, there is no person 
 in the play who sees so far into the characters of those about 
 him. Witness his remarks about Justice Shallow and his 
 men : " It is a wonderful thing to see the semblable cohe- 
 rence of his men's spirits and his : they, by observing of him^ 
 do bear themselves like foolish justices ; he, by conversing 
 with them, is turned into a justice-like serving-man. If I had 
 a suit to Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the 
 imputation of being near their master ; if to his men, I would 
 
38 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 curry with Master Shallow, that no man could better command 
 his servants." Which is indeed a most shrewd and search- 
 ing commentary on what Sir John has just seen and heard. 
 It is impossible to hit them off more felicitously. 
 
 I must add, that with Shallow and Silence for his theme 
 Falstaff's wit fairly grows gigantic, and this too without any 
 abatement of its frolicsome agility. The strain of humorous 
 exaggeration with which he pursues the theme in soliloquy 
 is indeed almost sublime. Yet in some of his reflections 
 thereon, as in the passage just quoted, we have a clear 
 though brief view of the profound philosopher underlying 
 the profligate humourist and make-sport ; for he there dis- 
 covers a breadth and sharpness of observation, and a depth 
 of practical sagacity, such as might have placed him in the 
 front rank of statesmen and sages. 
 
 Is Falstaff a Coward? 
 
 I have said that Falstaff, though having a peculiar vein 
 of something very like cowardice, is not a coward. This 
 sounds paradoxical, but I think it just. On this point Mac- 
 kenzie speaks with rare exactness. "Though," says he, "I 
 will not go so far as to ascribe valour to Falstaff, yet his 
 cowardice, if fairly examined, will be found to be not so 
 much a weakness as a principle : he has the sense of danger, 
 but not the discomposure of fear." In approval of this, it 
 is to be observed that amid the perilous exigencies of the 
 fight his matchless brain is never a whit palsied with fear ; 
 and no sooner has he fallen down to save his life by a coun- 
 terfeit death, than all his wits are at work to convert his fall 
 into a purchase of honour. Certainly his cowardice, if the 
 word must still be applied to him, is not such as either to 
 keep him out of danger or to lose him the use of his powers 
 
INTRODUCTION. 39 
 
 in it. Whether surrounded with pleasures or perils, his 
 sagacity never in the least forsakes him ; and his unabated 
 purlings of humour when death is busy all about him, and 
 even when others are taunting him with cowardice, seem 
 hardly reconcilable with the character generally set upon him 
 in this respect. 
 
 As there is no touch of poetry in Falstaff, he sees nothing 
 in the matter of honour but the sign ; and he has more 
 good sense than to set such a value on this as to hazard 
 that for which alone he holds it desirable. To have his 
 name seasoned sweet in the world's regard he does not look 
 upon as signifying any real worth in himself, and so furnish- 
 ing just ground of self-respect ; but only as it may yield 
 him the pleasures and commodities of life : whereas the 
 very soul of honour is, that it will sooner part with life than 
 forfeit this ground of self-respect. For honour, true honour, 
 is indeed a kind of social conscience. 
 
 Relation of Falstaff and the Prince. 
 
 Falstaff is altogether the greatest triumph of the comic 
 Muse that the world has to show. In this judgment I 
 believe that all who have fairly conversed with the irre- 
 sistible old sinner are agreed. In the varied and delectable 
 wealth of his conversation, it is not easy to select such parts 
 as are most characteristic of the man ; and I have rather 
 aimed to quote what would best illustrate my points than 
 what is best in itself. Of a higher order and a finer texture 
 than any thing I have produced is the scene where Falstaff 
 personates the King, to examine the Prince upon the par- 
 ticulars of his life. It is too long for quotation here ; and I 
 can but refer to it as probably the choicest issue of comic 
 preparation that genius has ever bequeathed to human 
 enjoyment. 
 
40 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 Upon the whole, then, I think Falstaff may be justly 
 described as having all the intellectual qualities that enter 
 into the composition of practical wisdom, without one of 
 the moral. If to his powers of understanding were joined 
 an imagination equal, it is hardly too much to say he would 
 be as great a poet as Shakespeare. And in all this we have, 
 it seems to me, just the right constituents of perfect fitness 
 for the dramatic purpose and exigency which his character 
 was meant to answer. In his solid and clear understanding, 
 his discernment and large experience, his fulness and quick- 
 ness of wit and resource, and his infinite humour, what were 
 else dark in the life of Prince Henry is made plain ; and we 
 can hardly fail to see how he is drawn to what is in itself 
 bad indeed, yet drawn in virtue of something within him 
 that still prefers him in our esteem. With less of wit, sense, 
 and spirit, Sir John could have got no hold on the Prince ; 
 and if to these attractive qualities he had not joined others 
 of a very Odious and repulsive kind, he would have held 
 him too fast. 
 
 FalstafTs Immoralities. 
 
 I suppose it is no paradox to say that, hugely as we de- 
 light to be with Falstaff, he is notwithstanding just about 
 the last man that any one would wish to resemble ; which 
 fact, as I take it, is enough of itself to keep the pleasure of 
 his part free from any moral infection or taint. And our 
 repugnance to being like him is not so much because he 
 
 ft 
 
 offends the moral feelings as because he hardly touches 
 them at all, one way or the other. The character seems to 
 lie mainly out of their sphere ; and they agree to be silent 
 towards him, as having practically disrobed himself of moral 
 attributes. Now, however bad we may be, these are proba- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 41 
 
 bly the last elements of our being that we would consent to 
 part with. Nor, perhaps, is there any thing that our nature 
 so vitally shrinks away from, as to have men's moral feelings 
 sleep concerning us. To be treated as beneath blame, is 
 the greatest indignity that can be offered us. Who would 
 not rather be hated by men than be such as they should not 
 respect enough to hate ? 
 
 This aloofness of the moral feelings seems owing in great 
 part to the fact of the character impressing us, throughout, 
 as that of a player ; though such a player, whose good sense 
 keeps every thing stagey and theatrical out of his playing. 
 He lives but to furnish, for himself and others, intellectual 
 wine, and his art lies in turning every thing about him into 
 this. His immoralities are mostly such wherein the ludi- 
 crous element is prominent ; and in the entertainment of 
 this their other qualities are lost sight of. The animal sus- 
 ceptibilities of our nature are .in him carried up to their 
 highest pitch ; his several appetites hug their respective 
 objects with exquisite gust ; his vast plumpness is all mellow 
 with physical delight and satisfaction ; and he converts it 
 all into thought and mirth. Moreover his speech borrows 
 additional flavour and effect from the thick foldings of flesh 
 which it oozes through ; therefore he glories in his much 
 flesh, and cherishes it as being the procreant cradle of jests : 
 if his body is fat, it enables his tongue to drop fatness ; and 
 in the chambers of his brain all the pleasurable agitations 
 that pervade the structure below are curiously wrought into 
 mental delectation. With how keen and inexhaustible a 
 relish does he pour down sack, as if he tasted it all over and 
 through his body, to the ends of his fingers and toes ! yet 
 who does not see that he has more pleasure in discoursing 
 about it than in drinking it ? And so it is through all the 
 
42 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 particulars of his enormous sensuality. And he makes the 
 same use of his vices and infirmities ; nay, he often carica- 
 tures those he has, and sometimes affects those he has not, 
 that he may get the same profit out of them. 
 
 Thus Falstaff strikes us, throughout, as acting a part ; inso- 
 much that our conscience of right and wrong has little more 
 to do with the man himself than with a good representation 
 of him on the stage. And his art, if not original and innate, 
 has become second nature : if the actor was not bom with 
 him, it has grown to him, and become a part of him, so that 
 he cannot lay it off; and if he has nobody else to entertain, 
 he must still keep playing for the entertainment of himself. 
 But because we do not think of applying moral tests to him, 
 therefore, however we may surrender to his fascinations, we 
 never feel any respect for him. And it is very considerable 
 that he has no self-respect. The reason of which is close at 
 hand : for respect is a sentiment of which mere players, as 
 such, are not legitimate objects. Not but that actors may 
 be very worthy, upright men : there have been many capital 
 gentlemen among them : as such, they are indeed abundantly 
 respectable : but in the useful callings men are respected for 
 their calling's sake, even though their characters be not 
 deserving of respect ; which seems not to be the case with 
 men of the stage. And as Falstaff is no less a player to him- 
 self than to others, he therefore respects himself as little as 
 others respect him. 
 
 It must not be supposed, however, that because he touches 
 the moral feelings so little one way or the other, therefore his 
 company and conversation were altogether harmless to those 
 who actually shared them. It is not, cannot be so ; nor has 
 the Poet so represented it. " Evil communications corrupt, 
 good manners," whether known and felt to be evil or not. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 43 
 
 And so the ripe understanding of FalstafT himself teaches us : 
 " It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is 
 caught, as men take diseases one of another ; therefore let 
 men take heed of their company." In the intercourse of 
 men there are always certain secret, mysterious influences at 
 work : the conversation of others affects us without our know- 
 ing it, and by methods past our finding out ; and it is always 
 a sacrament of harm to be in the society of those whom we 
 do not respect. 
 
 In all that happens to Falstaff, the being cast off at last by 
 the Prince is the only thing that really hurts his feelings. 
 And as this is the only thing that hurts him, so it is the only 
 one that does him any good : for he is strangely inaccessible 
 to inward suffering ; and yet nothing but this can make him 
 better. His character keeps on developing, and growing 
 rather worse, to the end of the play ; and there are some 
 positive indications of a hard bad heart in him. His abuse 
 of Shallow's hospitality is exceedingly detestable, and argues 
 that hardening of all within which tells far more against a 
 man than almost any amount of mere sensuality. For it is a 
 great mistake to suppose that our sensual vices, though they 
 may and often do work the most harm to ourselves, are 
 morally the worst. The malignant vices, those that cause us 
 to take pleasure in the pain or damage of others, — it is in 
 these that Hell is most especially concentrated. Satan is 
 neither a glutton nor a wine-bibber ; he himself stoops not to 
 the lusts of the flesh, though he delights to see his poor dupes 
 eaten up by them : but to gloat over or to feast on the agonies 
 that one inflicts, this is truly Satanic. In the matter about 
 Justice Shallow we are let into those worse traits of FalstafT, 
 such as his unscrupulous and unrelenting selfishness, which 
 had else escaped our dull perceptions, but which, through all 
 
44 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 the disguises of art, have betrayed themselves to the appre- 
 hensive discernment of Prince Henry. Thus we here come 
 upon the delicate thread which connects that sapient Justice 
 with what I have stated to be the main purpose of the drama. 
 The bad usage which Falstaff puts upon Shallow has the effect 
 of justifying to us the usage which he at last receives from 
 the Prince. And something of the kind was needful in order 
 to bring the Prince's character off from such an act altogether 
 bright and sweet in our regard. For, after sharing so long in 
 the man's prodigality of mental exhilaration, to shut down 
 upon him so, was pretty hard. 
 
 I must not leave Sir John without remarking how he is a 
 sort of public brain from which shoot forth nerves of commu- 
 nication through all the limbs and members of the common- 
 wealth. The most broadly-representative, perhaps, of all 
 ideal characters, his conversations are as diversified as his 
 capabilities ; so that through him the vision is let forth into a 
 long-drawn yet clear perspective of old English life and man- 
 ners. What a circle of vices and obscurities and nobilities 
 are sucked into his train ! how various in size and quality the 
 orbs that revolve around him and shine by his light ! from 
 the immediate heir of England and the righteous Lord Chief 
 Justice to poor Robin Ostler who died of one idea, having 
 "never joy'd since the price of oats rose." He is indeed a 
 multitudinous man ; and can spin fun enough out of his mar- 
 vellous brain to make all the world "laugh and grow fat." 
 
 Mrs. Quickly the Hostess. 
 
 We have had several glimpses of Mrs. Quickly, the Host- 
 ess of Eastcheap. She is well worth a steady looking at. 
 One of the most characteristic passages in the play is her 
 
INTRODUCTION. 45 
 
 account of FalstafT's engagement to her; which has been 
 aptly commented on by Coleridge as showing how her mind 
 runs altogether in the rut of actual events. She can think 
 of things only in the precise order of their occurrence, hav- 
 ing no power to select such as touch her purpose, and to 
 detach them from the circumstantial irrelevancies with which 
 they are consorted in her memory. 
 
 In keeping with this mental peculiarity, her character 
 savours strongly of her whereabout in life ; she is plentifully 
 trimmed with vices and vulgarities, and these all taste rankly 
 of her place and calling, thus showing that she has as much 
 of moral as of mental passiveness. Notwithstanding, she 
 always has an odour of womanhood about her, even her 
 worst features being such as none but a woman could have. 
 Nor is her character, with all its ludicrous and censurable 
 qualities, unrelieved, as we have seen, by traits of generosity 
 that relish equally of her sex. It is even doubtful whether 
 she would have entertained Sir John's proposals of marriage 
 so favourably, but that at the time of making them he was in 
 a condition to need her kindness. Her woman's heart could 
 not stint itself from the plump old sinner when he had 
 wounds to be dressed and pains to be soothed. And who 
 but a woman could speak such words of fluttering eagerness 
 as she speaks in urging on his arrest : " Do your offices, do 
 your offices, Master Fang and Master Snare ; do me, do me, 
 do me your offices " ; where her heart seems palpitating with 
 an anxious hope that her present action may make another 
 occasion for her kind ministrations ? Sometimes, indeed, she 
 gets wrought up to a pretty high pitch of temper, but she 
 cannot hold herself there ; and between her turns of anger 
 and her returns to sweetness there is room for more of 
 womanly feeling than I shall venture to describe. And there 
 
46 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 is still more of the woman in the cunning simplicity — or is 
 it simpleness? — with which she manages to keep her good 
 opinion of Sir John ; as when, on being told that at his 
 death "he cried out of women, and said they were devils 
 incarnate," she replies, " 'A never could abide carnation ; 
 'twas a colour he never liked" ; as if she could find no sense 
 in his words but what would stand smooth with her interest 
 and her affection. 
 
 It is curious to observe how Mrs. Quickly dwells on the 
 confines of virtue and shame, and sometimes plays over 
 the borders, ever clinging to the reputation, and perhaps to 
 the consciousness, of the one, without foreclosing the invi- 
 tations of the other. For it is very evident that even in 
 her worst doings she hides from herself their ill-favour 
 under a fair name ; as people often paint the cheeks of their 
 vices, and then look them sweetly in the face, though they 
 cannot but know the paint is all that keeps them from 
 being unsightly and loathsome. In her case, however, this 
 may spring, in part, from a simplicity not unlike that which 
 sometimes causes little children to shut their eyes at what 
 affrights them, and then think themselves safe. And yet 
 she shows considerable knowledge of the world ; is not 
 without shrewdness in her way; but, in truth, the world 
 her soul lives in, and grows intelligent of, is itself a disci- 
 pline of moral obtuseness ; and this is one reason why she 
 loves it. On the whole, therefore, Mrs. Quickly must be 
 set down as a naughty woman ; the Poet clearly meant her 
 so ; and, in mixing so much of good with the general pre- 
 ponderance of bad in her composition, he has shown a rare 
 spirit of wisdom, such as may well remind us that "both 
 good men and bad men are apt to be less so than they 
 seem." 
 
INTRODUCTION. 47 
 
 Shallow and Silence. 
 
 Such is one formation of life to which the Poet conducts 
 us by a pathway leading from Sir John. But we have an 
 avenue opening out from him into a much richer formation. 
 Aside from the humour of the characters themselves, there 
 is great humour of art in the bringing- together of Falstaff 
 and Shallow. Whose risibilities are not quietly shaken up 
 to the centre, as he studies the contrast between them, and 
 the sources of their interest in each other ? Shallow is 
 vastly proud of his acquaintance with Sir John, and runs 
 over with consequentiality as he reflects upon it. Sir John 
 understands this perfectly, and is drawn to him quite as 
 much for the pleasure of making a butt of him as in the 
 hope of currying a road to his purse. 
 
 One of the most potent spots in Justice Shallow is the 
 exulting self-complacency with which he remembers his 
 youthful essays in profligacy ; wherein, though without 
 suspecting it, he was the sport and byword of his compan- 
 ions j he having shown in them the same boobyish alacrity 
 as he now shows in prating about them. His reminiscences 
 in this line are superlatively diverting, partly, perhaps, as 
 reminding us of a perpetual sort of people, not unfrequently 
 met with in the intercourse of life. 
 
 Another choice spot in Shallow is a huge love or habit 
 of talking on when he has nothing to say ; as though his 
 tongue were hugging and kissing his words. Thus, when 
 Sir John asks to be excused from staying with him over 
 night : " I will not excuse you ; you shall not be excused ; 
 excuses shall not be admitted ; there is no excuse shall 
 serve ; you shall not be excused." And he lingers upon his 
 words and keeps rolling them over in his mouth with a still 
 
48 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 keener relish in the garden after supper. This fond caress- 
 ing of his phrases springs not merely from sterility of 
 thought, but partly also from that vivid self-appreciation 
 which causes him to dwell with such rapture on the spirited 
 sallies of his youth. 
 
 One more point about fetches the compass of his genius, 
 he being considerable mainly for his loquacious thinness. 
 It is well instanced in his appreciation of Sir John's witti- 
 cism on Mouldy, one of the recruits he is taking up : 
 
 Fals. Is thy name Mouldy ? 
 Moul. Yea, an't please you. 
 Fals. 'Tis the more time thou wert used. 
 
 Shal. Ha, ha, ha ! most excellent, i'faith ! things that are mouldy lack 
 use : very singular good ! In faith, well said, Sir John ; very well said. 
 
 The mixture of conceit and sycophancy here is charming. 
 Of course it is not so much the wit as his own perception 
 of the wit, that the critic admires. 
 
 One would suppose the force of feebleness had done its 
 best in Shallow, yet it is made to do several degrees better 
 in his cousin, Justice Silence. The tautology of the one 
 has its counterpart in the taciturnity of the other. And 
 Shallow's habit in this may have grown, in part, from talk- 
 ing to his cousin, and getting no replies ; for Silence has 
 scarce life enough to answer, unless it be to echo the ques- 
 tion. The only faculty he seems to have is memory, and he 
 has not force enough of his own to set even this in motion ; 
 nothing but excess of wine can make it stir. So that his 
 taciturnity is but the proper outside of his essential vacuity, 
 and springs from sheer dearth of soul. He is indeed a stu- 
 pendous platitude of a man ! The character is poetical by 
 a sort of inversion ; as extreme ugliness sometimes has the 
 effect of beauty, and fascinates the eye. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 49 
 
 Shakespeare evinces a peculiar delight sometimes in 
 weaving poetical conceptions round the leanest subjects ; 
 and we have no finer instance of this than where Silence, 
 his native sterility of brain being overcome by the working 
 of sack on his memory, keeps pouring forth snatches from 
 old ballads. How delicately comical the volubility with 
 which he trundles off the fag-ends of popular ditties, when 
 in "the sweet of the night" his heart has grown rich with 
 the exhilaration of wine ! Who can ever forget the exquis- 
 ite humour of the contrast between Silence dry and Silence 
 drunk ? 
 
 In this vocal flow of Silence we catch the right spirit and 
 style of old English mirth. For he must have passed his 
 life in an atmosphere of song, since it was only by dint of 
 long custom and endless repetition that so passive a mem- 
 ory as his could have got stored with such matter. And 
 the snatches he sings are fragments of old minstrelsy " that 
 had long been heard in the squire's hall and the yeoman's 
 chimney-corner," where friends and neighbours were wont 
 to "sing aloud old songs, the precious music of the heart." 
 
 These two sapient Justices are admirably fitted to each 
 other, for indeed they have worn together. Shallow highly 
 appreciates his kinsman, who in turn looks up to him as his 
 great man, and as a kind of superior nature. It were hardly 
 fair to quit them without referring to their piece of dialogue 
 about old Double ; where in all the ludicrous oddity of the 
 thing we have touches that " feelingly persuade us what we 
 are." And I suppose there is none so poor shell of human- 
 ity but that, if we apply our ear, and listen intently, " from 
 within are heard murmurings whereby the monitor expresses 
 mysterious union with its native sea." It is considerable 
 that this bit of dialogue occurs at our first meeting with the 
 
50 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 speakers ; as if on purpose to set and gauge our feelings 
 aright towards them ; to forestall and prevent an overmuch 
 rising of contempt for them ; which is probably about the 
 worst feeling we can cherish. 
 
 Concluding Remarks. 
 
 The drama of King Henry the Fourth, taking the two 
 Parts as artistically one, is deservedly ranked among the 
 very highest of Shakespeare's achievements. The charac- 
 terization, whether for quantity or quality or variety, or 
 again whether regarded in the individual development or 
 the dramatic combination, is above all praise. And yet, 
 large and free as is the scope here given to invention, the 
 parts are all strictly subordinated to the idea of the whole 
 as an historical drama; insomuch that even Falstaff, richly 
 ideal as is the character, everywhere helps on the history; 
 a whole century of old English wit and sense and humour 
 being crowded together and compacted in him. And one 
 is surprised withal, upon reflection, to see how many scraps 
 and odd minutes of intelligence are here to be met with. 
 The Poet seems indeed to have been almost everywhere, 
 and brought away some tincture and relish of the place ; as 
 though his body were set full of eyes, and every eye took 
 in matter of thought and memory : here we have the smell 
 of eggs and butter; there we turn up a fragment of old 
 John of Gaunt ; elsewhere we chance upon a pot of Tewks- 
 bury mustard ; again we hit a bit of popular superstition, 
 how Earl Douglas " runs o' horseback up a hill perpendicu- 
 lar " : on the march with Falstaff, we contemplate " the 
 cankers of a calm world and a long peace " ; at Clement's 
 Inn we hear "the chimes at midnight"; at Master Shal- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 51 
 
 low's we " eat a last year's pippin of my own grafting, with 
 a dish of caraways and so forth " : now we are amidst the 
 poetries of chivalry and the felicities of victory ; now amidst 
 the obscure sufferings of war, where its inexorable iron hand 
 enters the widow's cottage, and snatches away the land's 
 humblest comforts. And so I might go on indefinitely, the 
 particulars in this kind being so numerous as might well dis- 
 tract the mind, yet so skilfully composed that the number 
 seems not large, till by a special effort of thought one goes 
 to viewing them severally. And these particulars, though so 
 unnoticed or so little noticed in the detail, are nevertheless 
 so ordered that they all tell in the result. How strong is the 
 principle of organic unity and life pervading the whole, may 
 be specially instanced in Falstaff ; whose sayings everywhere 
 so fit and cleave to the circumstances, to all the oddities 
 of connection and situation out of which they grow; have 
 such a mixed smacking, such a various and composite relish, 
 made up from all the peculiarities of the person by whom, 
 the occasion wherein, and the purpose for which they are 
 spoken, that they cannot be detached and set out by them- 
 selves without thwarting or greatly marring their force and 
 flavour. Thus in the farthest extremities of the work we feel 
 the beatings of one common heart. On the whole, we may 
 safely affirm with Dr. Johnson, that " perhaps no author has 
 ever, in two plays, afforded so much delight." 
 
KING HENRY IV. PART FIRST. 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King Henry the Fourth. 
 HENRY, Prince of Wales, 1 his So ^ 
 John of Lancaster, J 
 
 Neville, Earl of Westmoreland. 
 Sir Walter Blunt. 
 Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester. 
 Henry Percy, Earl of Northumber- 
 land. 
 Henry Percy, his Son. 
 Sir Edmund Mortimer. 
 Scroop, Archbishop of York. 
 Sir MICHAEL, his Friend. 
 
 Archibald, Earl of Douglas. 
 Owen Glendower. 
 Sir Richard Vernon. 
 Sir John Falstaff. 
 Pointz. Gadshill. 
 Peto. Bardolph. 
 
 Lady Percy, Wife to Hotspur. 
 Lady Mortimer, Daughter to Glen- 
 dower. 
 Mrs. Quickly, Hostess in Eastcheap. 
 
 Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, Carriers, Travel- 
 lers, and Attendants. 
 
 Scene. — England. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — London. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Westmoreland, Sir Walter Blunt, 
 
 and others. 
 
 King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, 
 Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, 
 And breathe short-winded accents of new broils 
 
54 THE FIRST PART OF ACT L 
 
 To be commenced in strands afar remote. 1 
 
 No more the thirsty entrance 2 of this soil 
 
 Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood ; 
 
 No more shall trenching war channel her fields, « 
 
 Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoofs 
 
 Of hostile paces : those opposed eyes, 
 
 Which, like the meteors 3 of a troubled heaven, 
 
 All of one nature, of one substance bred, 
 
 Did lately meet in the intestine shock 
 
 And furious close of civil butchery, 
 
 Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, 
 
 1 It scarce need be said that here the image is of Peace so scared and 
 out of breath with domestic strife, that she can but make a brief pause, and 
 pant forth short and broken speech of new wars to be undertaken in foreign 
 lands. This play is distinctly continuous with King Richard II., at the 
 close of which we have Bolingbroke avowing it as his purpose to atone for 
 the death of Richard by leading out another Crusade : 
 
 I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, 
 
 To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. 
 
 And in fact he was hardly more than seated on the throne before he began 
 to be so harassed with acts of rebellion and threats of invasion, that he con- 
 ceived the plan of drowning the public sense of his usurpation in an enthu- 
 siasm of foreign war and conquest. 
 
 2 Of course entrance here means mouth ; for what but a mouth should 
 have lips? So in Genesis, iv. n : "And now art thou cursed from the 
 earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy 
 hand." 
 
 3 Meteor was used in a much more general sense than we attach to the 
 word. King John, page 98, note 19. It might include the Aurora Borealis, 
 which sometimes has the appearance of hostile armies engaged in battle. 
 So in Paradise Lost, ii. 533-8 : 
 
 As when, to warn proud cities, war appears 
 
 Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush 
 
 To battle in the clouds, before each van 
 
 Prick forth the aery knights, and couch their spears, 
 
 Till thickest legions close ; with feats of arms 
 
 From either end of heaven the welkin burns. 
 
scene I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 55 
 
 March all one way, and be no more opposed 
 Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies : 
 The edge of war, like an ill- sheathed knife, 
 No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, 
 As far as to the sepulchre of Christ — 
 Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross 
 We are impressed and engaged to fight — 
 Forthwith a power of English shall we levy, 4 
 To chase these pagans in those holy fields 
 Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet 
 Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd 
 For our advantage on the bitter cross. 
 But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old, 
 And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go : 
 Therefore we meet not now. 5 — Then let me hear 
 Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, 6 
 What yesternight our Council did decree 
 In forwarding this dear expedience. 7 
 
 West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, 
 And many limits of the charge 8 set down 
 
 4 Levying an army to a place is an elliptical form of expression. So in 
 Gosson's School of Abuse, 1587 : " Scipio, before he levied his forces to the 
 walls of Carthage, gave his soldiers the print of the city in a cake, to be de- 
 voured." — Here, as often, shall has the force of will; the two being used 
 indifferently. 
 
 5 " We meet not on that question, or to consider that matter." Such is 
 often tbe meaning of therefore in old English. 
 
 6 Ralph Neville, the present Earl of Westmoreland, married for his first 
 wife Joan, daughter to John of Gaunt, by Catharine Swynford, and there- 
 fore half-sister to King Henry the Fourth. Cousin, in old English, bears 
 much the same sense as kinsman in our time. 
 
 7 The Poet uses expedience and expedition interchangeably : likewise, 
 expedient and expeditious. By dear, the King probably means that he has 
 his heart set upon it. 
 
 8 " Limits of the charge " probably means appointments for the undertake 
 
$6 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I 
 
 But yesternight : when, all athwart, there came 
 
 A post from Wales loaden with heavy news ; 
 
 Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer, 
 
 Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight 
 
 Against th' irregular and wild Glendower, 
 
 Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken ; 
 
 A thousand of his people butchered, 9 
 
 Upon whose dead corpse' 10 there was such misuse, 
 
 Such beastly, shameless transformation, 
 
 By those Welshwomen done, as may not be 
 
 Without much shame re-told or spoken of. 
 
 King. It seems, then, that the tidings of this broil 
 Brake off our business for the Holy Land. 
 
 West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious lord ; 
 For more uneven and unwelcome news 
 Came from the North, and thus it did import : 
 On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, 11 
 Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald, 
 That ever- valiant and approved Scot, 
 At Holmedon met ; 
 
 Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour, 
 As by discharge of their artillery, 
 
 ing. The Poet repeatedly uses to limit for to appoint; as also to appoint 
 for to equip ox furnish; that is, to arrange the outfit of an army. — Question, 
 in the line before, is talk or discussion. Often so. The matter was warmly 
 debated. 
 
 9 That is, " A thousand of his people being butchered." 
 
 10 Corpse' for corpses. So we have horse' for horses, house' for houses, 
 sense" for senses, &c. 
 
 11 Rood is an old word for cross. So we have the expression, " The Duke 
 that died on rood." Holy-Rood day was the 14th of September. Hotspur 
 is said to have been so called, because, from the age of twelve years, when 
 he first began to bear arms, his " spur was never cold," he being continually 
 at war with the Scots. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 57 
 
 And shape of likelihood, the news was told ; 
 For he that brought them, 12 in the very heat 
 And pride of their contention did take horse, 
 Uncertain of the issue any way. 
 
 King. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend, 
 Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, 
 Stain'd with the variation of each soil 13 
 Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours ; 
 And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news. 
 The Earl of Douglas is discomfited : 
 Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights, 
 Balk'd in their own blood, 14 did Sir Walter see 
 On Holmedon's plains : of prisoners, Hotspur took 
 Mordake the Earl of Fife and eldest son 
 To beaten Douglas ; 15 and the Earls of Athol, 
 Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith. 
 And is not this an honourable spoil, 
 A gallant prize ? ha, cousin, is it not ? 
 
 West. Faith, 'tis a conquest for a prince to boast of. 
 
 King. Yea, there thou makest me sad, and makest me 
 sin 
 
 12 News, and also tidings, was used indifferently as singular or plural : 
 hence was and them in this instance. 
 
 13 A most vivid expression of Sir Walter's speed and diligence. 
 
 14 Balk'd in their own blood is heaped, or laid in heaps, in their own blood. 
 A. balk was a ridge or bank of earth standing up between two furrows ; and 
 to balk was to throw up the earth so as to form those heaps or banks. 
 
 15 This reads as if the Earl of Fife were the son of Douglas, whereas in 
 fact he was son to the Duke of Albany, who was then regent or governor of 
 Scotland, the King, his brother, being incapable of the office. The matter 
 is thus given by Holinshed, pointing and all : " Of prisoners among other 
 Were these, Mordacke earle of Fife, son to the governour Archembald earle 
 Dowglas, which in the fight lost one of his eies." The Poet's mistake was 
 evidently caused by the omission of the comma after governour. 
 
58 THE FIRST PART OF aci i. 
 
 In envy that my Lord Northumberland 
 
 Should be the father to so blest a son, — 
 
 A son who is the theme of honour's tongue ; 
 
 Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant ; 
 
 Who is sweet Fortune's minion 16 and her pride : 
 
 Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, 
 
 See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
 
 Of my young Harry. O, that it could be proved 
 
 That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged 
 
 In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, 
 
 And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet ! 17 
 
 Then would I have his Harry, and he mine : 
 
 But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz, 
 
 Of this young Percy's pride ? the prisoners, 
 
 Which he in this adventure hath surprised, 
 
 To his own use he keeps ; and sends me word, 
 
 I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife. 18 
 
 West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester, 
 Malevolent to you in all aspects ; 19 
 
 16 Minion is darling, favourite, or pet ; a frequent usage. 
 
 17 Among the naughty pranks which the ancient " night-tripping fairies" 
 were supposed to enact, was that of stealing choice babies out of their cra- 
 dles, and leaving inferior specimens in their stead. Shakespeare has several 
 allusions to the roguish practice, as many other old writers also have. See 
 A Midsummer-Night's Dream, page 40, note 5. 
 
 18 Percy had an exclusive right to these prisoners, except the Earl of Fife. 
 By the law of arms, every man who had taken any captive, whose redemp- 
 tion did not exceed ten thousand crowns, had him to himself to release or 
 ransom at his pleasure. But Percy could not refuse the Earl of Fife ; for, he 
 being a prince of the royal blood, Henry might justly claim him, by his 
 acknowledged military prerogative. 
 
 19 An astrological allusion. Worcester is represented as a malignant 
 star that influenced the conduct of Hotspur. And the effect of planetary 
 predominance is implied, which was held to be irresistible. So in Daniel's 
 fine poem " To the Countess of Cumberland " : " Where all th' aspects of 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 59 
 
 Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up 
 The crest 20 of youth against your dignity. 
 
 King. But I have sent for him to answer this ; 
 And for this cause awhile we must neglect 
 Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. 
 Cousin, on Wednesday next our Council we 
 Will hold at Windsor ; so inform the lords : 
 But come yourself with speed to us again ; 
 For more is to be said and to be done 
 Than out of anger can be uttered. 21 
 
 West. I will, my liege. \_Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. — The Same. An Apartment of Prince Henry's. 
 Enter Prince Henry and Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad ? 
 
 Prince. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, 
 and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches 
 after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly 
 which thou wouldst truly know. 1 What a devil hast thou to 
 do with the time of the day ? unless hours were cups of sackj 
 
 misery predominate ; whose strong effects are such as he must bear, being 
 powerless to redress." See, also, The Winter's Tale, page 47, note 23. 
 
 20 Crest is, properly, the topmost part of a helmet; and helmets were 
 often surmounted with armorial ensigns, and adorned with costly feathers 
 or plumes. A hawk, or a cock, was said to prune himself when he picked 
 off the loose feathers, and smoothed the rest ; all from personal pride, of 
 course. 
 
 21 The King probably means that he must not give the reins to his 
 tongue while his mind is in such a state of perturbation. That he should 
 thus keep his lips close when he is in danger of speaking indecorously, is a 
 fine trait in his character. 
 
 1 Implying, apparently, that he should ask only for the time of the night 
 as that is the time for all his pleasures and pursuits. 
 
60 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 
 
 and minutes capons, and the blessed Sun himself a fair hot 
 wench in flame-coloured taffeta, 2 I see no reason why thou 
 shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day. 
 
 Fal. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal ; for we that 
 take purses go by the Moon and the seven stars, 3 and not by 
 Phoebus, — he, that wandering knight so fair.* And I pr'y- 
 thee, sweet wag, when thou art king, — as, God save thy 
 Grace, — Majesty I should say, for grace thou wilt have 
 none, — 
 
 Prince. What, none? 
 
 Fal. No, by my troth ; not so much as will serve to be 
 prologue to an egg and butter. 5 
 
 Prince. Well, how then ? come, roundly, roundly. 
 
 Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not 
 us that are squires of the night's body be called thieves of 
 the day's beauty : 6 let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of 
 the shade, minions of the Moon ; and let men say we be men 
 of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our 
 noble and chaste mistress the Moon, under whose counte- 
 nance we steal. 
 
 2 Taffeta was a rich silk of a wavy lustre. So that a handsome woman 
 blazing in a dress of fiame-coloured taffeta would be a pretty brilliant and 
 captivating phenomenon. 
 
 3 The seven stars are, probably, the constellation Pleiades. 
 
 4 Falstaff, with great propriety, according to the old astronomy, calls the Sun 
 a wandering knight. The words probably are from some forgotten ballad. 
 
 5 Not so much grace as will serve for saying grace before meat. Eggs 
 and butter appear to have been a favourite lunch. — Roundly, in the next 
 line, is speak plainly, or bluntly. 
 
 6 Falstaff is an inveterate player upon words, as here between night and 
 knight, beauty and booty. A squire of the body originally meant an attendant 
 on a knight. — As to Diana's foresters, Hall the chronicler tells of a pageant 
 exhibited in the reign of Henry VIII., wherein were certain persons called 
 Diana's knights. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 6 1 
 
 Prince. Thou say'st well, and it holds well too; for the 
 fortune of us that are the Moon's men doth ebb and flow 
 like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, by the Moon. As, 
 for proof, now : A purse of gold most resolutely snatch'd 
 on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday 
 morning ; got with swearing Lay by, and spent with crying 
 Bring in; 1 now in as low an ebb as the foot of the lad- 
 der, and by-and-by in as high a flow as the ridge of the 
 gallows. 8 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my 
 hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench ? 
 
 Prince. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. 9 
 And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? 10 
 
 7 The meaning and application of the phrase Lay by, as here used, are 
 somewhat in doubt. It was in use as a nautical term for to slacken sail. So 
 in King Henry VIII. , iii. i : " Even the billows of the sea hung their heads, 
 and then lay by "; that is, sank to rest. Some think that in the text it is a 
 phrase addressed by highwaymen to the persons they have waylaid, like 
 " Stand ! and deliver." But I believe no clear authority is brought for that 
 explanation. So I suspect it was a phrase used by highwaymen to each 
 other when watching for their game; and meant be still, or stand close; 
 something like the phrase of our time, " lie low and keep dark." So stand 
 close occurs twice in ii. 2, of this play. — Bring in was the call of revellers to 
 the waiters to bring in more wine. 
 
 8 Referring to the liability which thieves incurred of being promoted to 
 the high place of hanging. 
 
 9 Shakespeare has several allusions to the classical honey of Hybla, the 
 name of a district in Sicily where the honey, celebrated by the poets for its 
 superior flavour, was found. So in Julius Ccesar, v. 1 : " But, for your 
 words, they rob the Hybla bees, and leave them honeyless." — It is certain 
 that in this play, as originally written, Falstaff bore the name of Oldcastle ; 
 and " old lad of the castle " is no doubt a relic of that naming. 
 
 10 A buff jerkin was a jerkin or coat made of ox-hide, and was commonly 
 worn by sheriff's officers. It seems to have been called a robe of durance, 
 both because of its great durability, and because it was the wearer's business 
 to put debtors and criminals in durance. 
 
62 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 
 
 Fal. How now, how now, mad wag ! what, in thy quips 
 and thy quiddities? 11 what a plague have I to do with a buff 
 jerkin ? 
 
 Prince. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess 
 of the tavern ? 
 
 Fal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reckoning many a 
 time and oft. 
 
 Prince. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part ? 
 
 Fal. No ; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. 
 
 Prince. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would 
 stretch ; and where it would not, I have used my credit. 
 
 Fal. Yea, and so used it, that, were it not here apparent 
 that thou art heir-apparent 12 — But, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, 
 shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art 
 king? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is with the rusty curb 
 of old father antic the law? 13 Do not thou, when thou art 
 king, hang a thief. 
 
 Prince. No ; thou shalt. 
 
 Fal. Shall I ? O rare ! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge. 
 
 Prince. Thou judgest false already : I mean, thou shalt have 
 the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman. 
 
 Fal. Well, Hal, well ; and in some sort it jumps 14 with 
 my humour ; as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell you. 
 
 11 Quips and quiddities are gibes and subtile allusions or sly retorts. 
 Strictly speaking, a quiddity is a nice distinction. 
 
 12 An intimation that, but for his prospect of the throne, the Prince would 
 be credit-broken. To express the thought in full, were a greater liberty than 
 Falstaff dares to take with the Prince. 
 
 13 Antic, as the word is here used, means buffoon. Speaking of the law 
 as a venerable buffoon is a right Falstaffian stroke of humour. In Richard 
 II., ii. 2, the word is so applied to Death : " Within the hollow crown Death 
 keeps his Court ; and there the antic sits, scoffing his state, and grinning at 
 his pomp." — Fobb'd is tricked or cheated. 
 
 14 Jumps is accords or agrees. See The Merchant, page 129, note 5. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 63 
 
 Prince. For obtaining of suits ? 
 
 Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits, 15 whereof the hangman 
 hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, 16 I am as melancholy as a 
 gib-cat or a lugg'd bear. 17 
 
 Prince. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. 
 
 Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. 18 
 
 Prince. What say'st thou to a hare, or the melancholy of 
 Moor-ditch? 19 
 
 Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes, and art, in- 
 deed, the most comparative, 20 rascalliest, sweet young prince, 
 
 15 There is a quibble here between suits in the sense of petitions and the 
 suits of clothes, which the hangman inherited from those whom he executed. 
 Waiting in the Court for the granting of one's petitions used to be as tedious 
 as " the law's delay." 
 
 16 As a sort of compromise between reverence and profanity, various 
 oaths became so curtailed and disguised in the use, that their original mean- 
 ing was almost lost. Among these, 'Sblood and Zounds were very common, 
 the original forms being " God's blood " and " God's wounds." 'Slight, 
 " God's light," was another. 
 
 17 A gib-cat is a male cat. Tom cat is now the usual term. Ray has this 
 proverbial phrase, " as melancholy as a gibd cat." In Sherwood's English 
 and French Dictionary we have " a gibbe or old male cat." — A lugg'd bear 
 was probably a bear made cross by having his ears pulled or plucked. 
 
 18 Lincolnshire bagpipes was proverbial. The allusion, if there be any, is 
 yet unexplained. 
 
 19 The hare seems to have been proverbial as a type of melancholy. In 
 illustration of the text, Staunton aptly quotes from Turberville's Book on 
 Hunting and Falconry : "The hare first taught us the use of the hearbe 
 called wyld Succory, which is very excellent for those which are disposed to 
 be melancholicke : shee herselfe is one of the most melancholicke beasts that 
 is, and to heale her own infirmitie she goeth commonly to sit under that 
 hearbe." — Moorditch, a part of the ditch surrounding the city of London, 
 opened to an unwholesome morass, and therefore had an air of melan- 
 choly. So in Taylor's Pennylesse Pilgrimage, 1618 : " My body being tired 
 with travel, and my mind attired with moody muddy, Moore-ditch melan- 
 choly!' 
 
 20 Comparative is here used for one who is fond of making comparisons. 
 
64 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 
 
 — But, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I 
 would to God thou and I knew where a commodity of good 
 names were to be bought. An old lord of the Council rated 
 me the other day in the street about you, sir, — but I mark'd 
 him not ; and yet he talk'd very wisely, — but I regarded him 
 not ; and yet he talk'd wisely, and in the street too. 
 
 Prince. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the 
 streets, and no man regards it. 
 
 Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration, 21 and art, indeed, 
 able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon 
 me, Hal ; God forgive thee for it ! Before I knew thee, Hal, 
 I knew nothing ; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, 
 little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this 
 life, and I will give it over ; by the Lord, an I do not, I am 
 a villain : I'll be damn'd for never a king's son in Christen- 
 dom. 
 
 Prince. Where shall we take a purse to-morrow, Jack ? 
 
 Fal. Zounds, where thou wilt, lad ; I'll make one : an I 
 do not, call me villain, and baffle me. 22 
 
 Prince. I see a good amendment of life in thee, — from 
 praying to purse-taking. 
 
 21 That is, a naughty trick of repetition, referring, no doubt, to what the 
 Prince keeps doing throughout this scene ; namely, iterating, retorting, and 
 distorting Falstaff' s words. 
 
 22 To baffle is to use contemptuously, or treat with ignominy ; to un- 
 knight. It was originally a punishment of infamy inflicted on recreant 
 knights, one part of which was hanging them up by the heels. The degrading 
 of a false knight is thus set forth in The Faerie Queene, v. 3, 37, showing how 
 3ir Artegall's iron page, Talus, served Braggadochio : 
 
 First he his beard did shave, and fowly shent ; 
 
 Then from him reft his sheld, and it renverst, 
 
 And blotted out his armes with falsehood blent ; 
 
 And himselfe baffuld, and his armes unherst ; 
 
 And broke his sword in twaine, and all his armour sperst. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 6$ 
 
 Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal ; 'tis no sin for a 
 man to labour in his vocation. 
 
 Enter Pointz. 
 
 — Pointz ! — Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a 
 match. 23 O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in 
 Hell were hot enough for him ? This is the most omnipo- 
 tent villain that ever cried Stand 7 to a true man. 
 
 Prince. Good morrow, Ned. 
 
 Pointz. Good morrow, sweet Hal. — What says Monsieur 
 Remorse ? what says Sir John Sack-and-sugar ? 24 Jack, how 
 agrees the Devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest 
 him on Good-Friday last for a cup of Madeira and a cold 
 capon's leg? 
 
 Prince. Sir John stands to his word, — the Devil shall 
 have his bargain ; for he was never yet a breaker of prov- 
 erbs, — he will give the Devil his due. 
 
 Pointz. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with 
 the Devil. 
 
 Prince. Else he had been damn'd for cozening the Devil. 
 
 Pointz. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by 
 
 23 Setting a match appears to have been one of the technicalities of thiev- 
 ery. Thus in Ratsey's Ghost, a tract printed about 1606 : " I have been 
 many times beholding to tapsters and chamberlains for directions and set- 
 ting 0/ matches." 
 
 24 A deal of learned ink has been shed in discussing what Sir John's fa- 
 vourite beverage might be. Nares has pretty much proved it to have been 
 the Spanish wine now called Sherry. So in Blount's Glossographia : "Sherry 
 sack, so called from Xeres, a town of Corduba in Spain, where that kind of 
 sack is made." And in Markham's English Housewife : "Your best sacks 
 are of Seres in Spaine." And indeed Falstaff expressly calls it sherris-sack. 
 The latter part of the name, sack, is thought to have come from its being a 
 dry wine, vin sec ; and it was formerly written seek. 
 
66 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 
 
 four o'clock, early at Gads-hill ! 25 there are pilgrims going 
 to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to Lon- 
 don with fat purses : I have visards for you all ; you have 
 horses for yourselves : Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester : 
 I have bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap : we 
 may do it as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff 
 your purses full of crowns ; if you will not, tarry at home 
 and be hang'd. 
 
 Fal. Hear ye, Yedward ; 26 if I tarry at home and go not, 
 I'll hang you for going. 
 
 Pointz. You will, chops ? 
 
 Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one ? 
 
 Prince. Who, I rob ? I a thief? not I, by my faith. 
 
 Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellow- 
 ship in thee, nor thou earnest not of the blood royal, if thou 
 darest not stand for ten shillings. 27 
 
 Prince. Well, then, once in my days I'll be a madcap. 
 gFal. Why, that's well said. 
 
 Prince. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor, then, when thou art 
 king. 
 
 Prince. I care not. 
 
 Pointz. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the Prince and me 
 alone : I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, 
 that he shall go. 
 
 Fal. Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion, and 
 him the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move, 
 
 25 Gads-hill was a wooded place on the road from London to Rochester, 
 much noted as a resort of highwaymen. 
 
 26 Yedward was a familiar corruption of Edward. 
 
 27 Falstaff is quibbling on the word royal. The real or royal was of the 
 value of ten shillings. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 67 
 
 and what he hears may be believed, that the true Prince 
 may, for recreation-sake, prove a false thief; for the poor 
 abuses of the time want countenance. Farewell : you shall 
 find me in Eastcheap. 
 
 Prince. Farewell, thou latter Spring ! farewell, All-hallown 
 Summer ! 28 [Exit Falstaff. 
 
 Pointz. Now, my good sweet honey-lord, ride with us 
 to-morrow : I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage 
 alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, shall rob 
 those men that we have already waylaid : yourself and I will 
 not be there ; and when they have the booty, if you and I 
 do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders. 
 
 Prince. But how shall we part with them in setting 
 forth? 
 
 Pointz. Why, we will set forth before or after them, and 
 appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure 
 to fail ; and then will they adventure upon the exploit them- 
 selves ; which they shall have no sooner achieved but we'll 
 set upon them. 
 
 Prince. Ay, but 'tis like that they will know us by our 
 horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, 29 to 
 be ourselves. 
 
 Pointz. Tut ! our horses they shall not see, — I'll tie them 
 in the wood; our visards we will change, after we leave 
 them ; and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, 30 
 to immask our noted outward garments. 
 
 28 All-hallown , or All hallows, is All Saints' Day, the first of November. 
 Nothing could more happily express the character of Falstaff as sowing 
 wild oats in his old age, or as carrying on the May and June of life to the 
 verge of Winter. 
 
 29 Appointment for equipment or outfit. See page 55, note 8. 
 
 30 This passage shows that sirrah was sometimes used merely in a play 
 
68 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 
 
 Prince. But I doubt 31 they will be too hard for us. 
 
 Pointz. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true- 
 bred cowards as ever turn'd back ; and for the third, if he 
 fight longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The 
 virtue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this 
 same fat rogue will tell us when we meet at supper : how 
 thirty, at least, he fought with ; what wards, 32 what blows, 
 what extremities he endured ; and in the reproof 33 of this 
 lies the jest. 
 
 Prince. Well, I'll go with thee : provide us all things 
 necessary, and meet me to-night in Eastcheap; there I'll 
 sup. Farewell. 
 
 Pointz. Farewell, my lord. [Exit. 
 
 Prince. I know you all, and will awhile uphold 
 The unyoked 34 humour of your idleness : 
 Yet herein will I imitate the Sun, 
 Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
 To smother-up his beauty from the world, 
 That, when he please again to be himself, 
 Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, 
 By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
 And vapours that did seem to strangle him. 
 If all the year were playing holidays, 
 To sport would be as tedious as to work ; 
 But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come, 
 And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 
 
 ful, familiar way, without implying any lack of respect. — For the nonce sig- 
 nified for the occasion, for the once. 
 
 31 Doubt in the sense of fear or suspect; a frequent usage. 
 
 32 Wards is guards ; that is, modes or postures of defence. 
 
 33 Reproof "for refutation or disproof To refute, to refell, to disallow, are 
 old meanings of to refute. See Much Ado, page 65, note 14. 
 
 34 Unyoked is untamed; like wild steers not broken into work. 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 69 
 
 So, when this loose behaviour I throw off, 
 
 And pay the debt I never promised, 
 
 By how much better than my word I am, 
 
 By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ; 35 
 
 And, like bright metal on a sullen 36 ground, 
 
 My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, 
 
 Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes 
 
 Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
 
 I'll so offend, to 37 make offence a skill 3 
 
 Redeeming time, when men think least I will. [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. — The Same. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Northumberland, Worcester, Hot- 
 spur, Sir Walter Blunt, and others. 
 
 King. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, 
 Unapt to stir at these indignities, 
 As you have found me ; for, accordingly, 
 You tread upon my patience : but be sure 
 I will from henceforth rather be myself, 
 Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition ; 1 
 
 35 Hopes for expectations ; no uncommon use of the word even now. 
 
 36 Sullen in it£ old sense of dark or black. See Richard II., page 161, 
 note 6. ' 
 
 37 In such cases, the old poets often omit as after so. — Here Johnson 
 notes as follows : " This speech is very artfully introduced, to keep the Prince 
 from appearing vile in the opinion of the audience : it prepares them for his 
 future reformation ; and, what is yet more valuable, exhibits a natural pic- 
 ture of a great mind offering excuses to itself, and palliating those follies 
 which it can neither justify nor forsake." 
 
 1 The King means that he will rather be what his office requires than 
 what his natural disposition prompts him to be. The use of condition for 
 temper or disposition was exceedingly common. 
 
JO THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 
 
 Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down, 
 
 And therefore lost that title of respect 
 
 Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud. 
 
 Wor. Our House, my sovereign liege, little deserves 
 The scourge of greatness to be used on it ; 
 And that same greatness too which our own hands 
 Have holp to make so portly. 2 
 
 North. My good lord, — 
 
 King. Worcester, get thee gone ; for I do see 
 Danger and disobedience in thine eye : 
 O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, 
 And majesty might never yet endure 
 The moody frontier 3 of a servant brow. 
 You have good leave to leave us : when we need 
 Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. \_Exit Worces. 
 — \To North.] You were about to speak. 
 
 North. Yea, my good lord, 
 
 Those prisoners in your Highness' name demanded, 
 Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, 
 Were, as he says, not with such strength denied 
 As is deliver 'd to your Majesty : 
 Either envy, therefore, or misprision 4 
 Is guilty of this fault, and not my son. 
 
 Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 
 But, I remember, when the fight was done, 
 
 2 Holp and holpen are the old preterites of the verb to help.— Portly 'here 
 has the sense of stately or imposing. So in The Merchant, iii. 2 : " The 
 magnificoes of greatest port'' 
 
 3 Frontier seems to be here used very much in the sense of confronting 
 or outfacing. The image is of a threatening or defiant fortress. 
 
 4 Envy is doubtless used here for malice, the sense it more commonly 
 bears in Shakespeare. — Misprision is misprising ox prising amiss; mis- 
 taking. 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 7 1 
 
 When I was dry with rage and Extreme toil, 
 
 Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, 
 
 Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, 
 
 Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin new reap'd 
 
 Show'd like a stubble -land 5 at harvest- home : 
 
 He was perfumed like a milliner ; 
 
 And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
 
 A pouncet-box, 6 which ever and anon 
 
 He gave his' nose, and took't away again ; 
 
 Who therewith angry, when it next came there, 
 
 Took it in snuff : 7 and still he smiled and talk'd ; 
 
 And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 
 
 He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
 
 To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 
 
 Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 
 
 With many holiday and lady terms 
 
 He question'd me ; among the rest, demanded 
 
 My prisoners in your Majesty's behalf. 
 
 I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, 
 
 Out of my grief and my impatience 
 
 To be so pester' d with a popinjay, 
 
 Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what, — 
 
 He should, or he should not ; for't made me mad 
 
 5 The courtier's beard, according to the fashion in the Poet's time, would 
 not be closely shaved, but shorn or trimmed, and would therefore show like 
 a stubble-land new-reap'd. — Millinery work was commonly done by men in 
 Shakespeare's time ; women's tailors, as they were called. 
 
 6 A pouncet-box was a box perforated with small holes, for carrying musk, 
 or other perfumes then in fashion. Warburton says that " various aromatic 
 powders were thus used in snuff, long before tobacco was." 
 
 7 Took it in snuff means no more than snuffed it up : but there is a quib- 
 ble on the phrase, which was equivalent to taking huff at it, in familiar 
 modern speech ; to be angry, to take offence. 
 
^2 THE FIRST PART OF 
 
 ACT L 
 
 To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, 
 
 i\nd talk so like a waiting- gentlewoman 
 
 Of guns and drums and wounds, — God save the mark ! — 
 
 And telling me the sovereign'st thing on Earth 
 
 Was parmaceti for an inward bruise ; 
 
 And that it was great pity, so it was, 
 
 This villainous salt-petre should be digg'd 
 
 Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
 
 Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd 
 
 So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns, 
 
 He would himself have been a soldier. 
 
 This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, 
 
 I answer d indirectly, as I said ; 
 
 And I beseech you, let not his report 
 
 Come current for an accusation 
 
 Betwixt my love and your high Majesty. 
 
 Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good my lord ? 
 Whatever Harry Percy then had said 
 To such a person, and in such a place, 
 At such a time, with all the rest re-told, 
 May reasonably die, and never rise 
 To do him wrong, or any way impeach 
 What then he said, so he unsay it now. 
 
 King. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, 
 But with proviso and exception, 
 That we at our own charge shall ransom straight 
 His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer ; 
 Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd 
 The lives of those that he did lead to fight 
 Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower, 
 Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March 
 
SCENE III. 
 
 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. f$ 
 
 Hath lately married. 8 Shall our coffers, then, 
 Be emptied to redeem a traitor home? 
 Shall we buy treason ? and indent with fears 9 
 When they have lost and forfeited themselves ? 
 No, on the barren mountains let him starve ; 
 For I shall never hold that man my friend 
 Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost 
 To ransom home revolted Mortimer. 
 
 Hot. Revolted Mortimer ! 
 He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, 
 But by the chance of war : to prove that true 
 Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, 
 Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took, 
 When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, 
 In single opposition, hand to hand, 
 He did confound 10 the best part of an hour 
 In changing hardiment with great Glendower. 
 Three times they breathed, and three times did they drink, 
 
 8 The Mortimer, who had been sent into Wales, was not the Earl of 
 March, but Sir Edmund Mortimer, uncle to the Earl, and therefore perhaps 
 distrusted by the King, as the natural protector of his nephew. At this time 
 the Earl of March was but about ten years old, and was held in safe keeping 
 at Windsor. The mistake runs through Holinshed's chapter on the reign 
 of Henry IV. 
 
 9 To indent with is to make a covenant or compact with any one : here 
 it seems to bear the sense of to compromise or make terms. — Shakespeare 
 sometimes uses subject and object interchangeably ; as in Macbeth, i. 3 : 
 " Present fears are less than horrible imaginings " ; where fears is put for 
 dangers, that is, the things or persons feared. And so in the text fears ap- 
 parently means objects of fear. So that the meaning of the passage in the 
 text evidently is, " Shall we buy off traitors, or make terms with persons 
 once dangerous indeed, but who have now forfeited and lost whatsoever 
 rendered them formidable ? " 
 
 10 Shakespeare again uses confound for spending or consuming time in 
 Coriolanus, i. 6 : " How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour ? " 
 
74 THE FIRST PART OF 
 
 ACT L 
 
 Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood ; 
 Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, 
 Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds, 
 And hid his crisp head 11 in the hollow bank 
 Blood-stained with these valiant combatants. 
 Never did base and rotten policy 
 Colour her working with such deadly wounds ; 
 Nor never could the noble Mortimer 
 Receive so many, and all willingly : 
 Then let him not be slander'd with revolt. 
 
 King. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him ; 
 He never did encounter with Glendower : 
 I tell thee, 
 
 He durst as well have met the Devil alone 
 As Owen Glendower for an enemy. 
 Art not ashamed ? But, sirrah, from henceforth 
 Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer : 
 Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, 
 Or you shall hear in such a kind from me 
 As will displease you. — My Lord Northumberland, 
 We license your departure with your son. — 
 Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it. 
 
 \_Exeunt King Henry, Blunt, and train. 
 
 Hot. An if the Devil come and roar for them, 
 I will not send them : I will after straight, 
 And tell him so ; for I will ease my heart, 
 
 11 The same image occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher's Loyal Subject . 
 " The Volga trembled at his terror, and hid his seven curled heads." Like- 
 wise in one of Jonson's Masques : " The rivers run as smoothed by his hand, 
 only their heads are crisped by his stroke." — As Johnson notes, " Severn is 
 here not the flood, but the tutelary power of the flood, who was affrighted, 
 and hid his head in the hollow bank." 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 75 
 
 Although it be with hazard of my head. 
 
 North. What, drunk with choler ? stay, and pause awhile : 
 Here comes your uncle. 
 
 Re-enter Worcester. 
 
 Hot. Speak of Mortimer ! 
 
 Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let my soul 
 Want mercy, if I do not join with him : 
 Yea, on his part I'll empty all these veins, 
 And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the dust, 
 But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer 
 As high i' the air as this unthankful King, 
 As this ingrate and canker'd 12 Bolingbroke. 
 
 North. \To Worcester.] Brother, the King hath made 
 your nephew mad. 
 
 Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone ? 
 
 Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners ; 
 And when I urged the ransom once again 
 Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale, 
 And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, 
 Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. 
 
 Wor. I cannot blame him : was he not proclaim'd 
 By Richard that is dead the next of blood ? 13 
 
 12 Canker, both verb and noun, in one of its senses is used of any thing that 
 corrodes or consumes, or that has the virulent or malignant qualities of a 
 cancer. Such is doubtless the meaning here. See The Tempest, page 127, 
 note 41. 
 
 13 Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, was declared heir-apparent to the 
 crown in 1385, but was killed in Ireland in 1398. His mother was Philippa, 
 the only child of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, who was the second son of Ed- 
 ward the Third. In the strict order of succession, the crown was due to 
 Edmund Mortimer, the son of Roger, who was accordingly proclaimed 
 heir-apparent by Richard the Second in 1399, just before starting on his ex- 
 
*j6 THE FIRST PART OF ACT L 
 
 North. He was ; I heard the proclamation : 
 And then it was when the unhappy King — 
 Whose wrongs in us 14 God pardon ! — did set forth 
 Upon his Irish expedition ; 
 From whence he intercepted did return 
 To be deposed, and shortly murdered. 
 
 Wor. And for whose death we in the world's wide 
 mouth 
 Live scandalized and foully spoken of. 
 
 Hot. But, soft ! I pray you ; did King Richard then 
 Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer 
 Heir to the crown ? 
 
 North. He did ; myself did hear it. 
 
 Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin King, 
 That wish'd him on the barren mountains starved. 
 But shall it be, that you, that set the crown 
 Upon the head of this forgetful man, 
 And for his sake wear the detested blot 
 Of murderous subornation, — shall it be, 
 That you a world of curses undergo, 
 Being the agents, or base second means, 
 The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? — 
 O, pardon me, that I descend so low, 
 To show the line and the predicament 
 Wherein you range under this subtle King ; — 
 Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days, 
 Or fill up chronicles in time to come, 
 That men of your nobility and power 
 
 pedition to Ireland. He was not Lady Percy's brother, but her nephew. 
 See note 8. 
 
 14 That is, " the wrongs which we inflicted on him " ; the Percys having 
 been the chief supporters of Bolingbroke in his usurpation. 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 77 
 
 Did gage 15 them both in an unjust behalf, — 
 As both of you, God pardon it ! have done, — 
 To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, 
 And plant this thorn, this canker, 16 Bolingbroke ? 
 And shall it, in more shame, be further spoken, 
 That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off 
 By him for whom these shames ye underwent? 
 No ! yet time serves, wherein you may redeem 
 Your banish'd honours, and restore yourselves 
 Into the good thoughts of the world again ; 
 Revenge the jeering and disdain'd 17 contempt 
 Of this proud King, who studies day and night 
 To answer all the debt he owes to you 
 Even with the bloody payment of your deaths : 
 Therefore, I say, — 
 
 Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more : 
 
 And now I will unclasp a secret book, 
 And to your quick-conceiving discontent 
 I'll read you matter deep and dangerous ; 
 As full of peril and adventurous spirit 
 As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud 
 On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 
 
 Hot. If we fall in, good night, or sink or swim ! 
 Send danger from the east unto the west, 
 So honour cross it from the north to south, 
 
 15 To gage is to pledge, or commit. Engaged occurs afterwards in much 
 the same sense. Both refers to nobility and power. See The Merchant, 
 page 86, note 31. 
 
 16 The canker here meant is the dog-rose ; the rose of the hedge, not of 
 the garden. So, in Much Ado, i. 3, the sullen John says of Don Pedro, " I 
 had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in his Grace." 
 
 17 Disdain'd for disdainful or disdaining ; an instance of the indiscrimi- 
 nate use of active and passive forms. 
 
yS THE FIRST PART OF ACT I 
 
 And let them grapple. O, the blood more stirs 
 To rouse a lion than to start 18 a hare ! 
 
 North. Imagination of some great exploit 
 Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. 
 
 Hot. By Heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, 
 To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced Moon ; 
 Or dive into the bottom of the deep, 
 Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, 
 And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ; 
 So he that doth redeem her thence might wear 
 Without corrival 19 all her dignities : 
 But out upon this half-faced fellowship ! 
 
 Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here, 
 But not the form of what he should attend. 20 — 
 Good cousin, give me audience for a while. 
 
 Hot. I cry you mercy. 21 
 
 Wor. Those same noble Scots 
 
 That are your prisoners, — 
 
 Hot. I'll keep them all ; 
 
 By God, he shall not have a Scot of them ; 
 No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not : 
 I'll keep them, by this hand. 
 
 18 To rouse and to start are instances of the infinitive used gerundively, 
 and so are equivalent to in rousing and in starting. By lion Hotspur 
 means the King. 
 
 19 Corrival for rival simply, and in the sense of partner or associate. So 
 in Hamlet, i. i : " If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, the rivals of my 
 watch, bid them make haste." — "Half-faced fellowship" is the same, I take 
 it, as what we might call half-hearted friendship. It is Hotspur's way of 
 charging that the King is not true to him, or does not rate his services so 
 highly as he thinks they deserve. 
 
 20 His imagination so swarms with ideal shapes and images, that it 
 whirls him away from the business in hand. 
 
 21 " I cry you mercy " is the old phrase for " I ask your pardon." 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 79 
 
 Wor. You start away, 
 
 And lend no ear unto my purposes. 
 Those prisoners you shall keep ; — 
 
 Hot. Nay, I will ; that's flat.' 
 
 He said he would not ransom Mortimer ; 
 Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer ; 
 But I will find him when he lies asleep, 
 And in his ear I'll holla Mortimer / 
 Nay, 
 
 I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak 
 Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him, 
 To keep his anger still in motion. 
 
 Wor. Hear you, cousin ; a word. 
 
 Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy, 22 
 Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke : 
 And that same sword-and-buckler 23 Prince of Wales, 
 But that I think his father loves him not, 
 And would be glad he met with some mischance, 
 I'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale. 24 
 
 JVor. Farewell, kinsman : I will talk to you 
 When you are better temper'd to attend. 
 
 North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool 
 Art thou, to break into this woman's mood, 
 Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own ! 
 
 22 To refuse, to disclaim, to renounce, to forsake are among the old 
 senses of to defy. See King -John, page 93, note 4. 
 
 23 Upon the introduction of the rapier and dagger, the sword and buckler 
 fell into desuetude among the higher classes, and were accounted fitting 
 weapons for the vulgar only, such as Hotspur implies were the associates 
 of the Prince. — STAUNTON. 
 
 24 Hotspur is here speaking out of his anger and impatience : not that 
 he could seriously think of doing what he says ; for he is the soul of hon- 
 our, and incapable of any thing mean. 
 
80 THE FIRST PART OF ACT I. 
 
 Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourged with rods, 
 Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear 
 Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke. 25 
 In Richard's time, — what do ye call the place ? — 
 A plague upon't ! — it is in Glostershire ; — 
 'Twas where the madcap Duke his uncle kept, 26 
 His uncle York ; — where I first bow'd my knee 
 Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke ; — 
 When you and he came back from Ravenspurg. 
 
 North. At Berkley- castle. 
 
 Hot. You say true : — 
 Why, what a candy deal of courtesy 27 
 This fawning greyhound then did proffer me ! 
 Look, when his infant fortune came to age, 
 And, Gentle Harry Percy, and, kind cousin, — 
 O, the Devil take such cozeners ! 28 — God forgive me ! — 
 Good uncle, tell your tale ; for I have done. 
 
 Wor. Nay, if you have not, to't again ; 
 We'll stay your leisure. 
 
 Hot. I have done, i'faith. 
 
 Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. 
 Deliver them up without their ransom straight, 
 
 25 Henry Plantagenet, the King of this play, was surnamed Bolingbroke 
 from a castle of that name in Lincolnshire, where he was born. In like 
 manner, his father, John of Gaunt, was so called from the place of his birth, 
 which was the city of Ghent in Flanders. 
 
 26 Kept for dwelt or lived. So in The Merchant, iii. 3 : "It is the most 
 impenetrable cur that ever kept with men." 
 
 27 Candy is sugar; and "candy deal of courtesy" is deal of sugared 
 courtesy. So in Hamlet, iii. 2 : " Let the candied tongue lick absurd 
 pomp." 
 
 28 To cozen is to cheat, to swindle. Hotspur is snapping off a pun or play 
 between cousin and cozener. So in King Richard III., iv. 4 : " Cousins, 
 indeed ; and by their uncle cozen' d of kingdom, kindred, freedom, life." 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 8 1 
 
 And make the Douglas' son your only mean 
 
 For powers in Scotland ; which, for divers reasons 
 
 Which I shall send you written, be assured, 
 
 Will easily be granted. — \To North.] You, my lord, 
 
 Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd, 
 
 Shall secretly into the bosom creep 
 
 Of that same noble prelate, well beloved, 
 
 Th' Archbishop. 
 
 Hot. Of York, is't not? 
 
 Wor. True ; who bears hard 
 
 His brother's death at Bristol, the Lord Scroop. 
 I speak not this in estimation, 29 
 As what I think might be, but what I know 
 Is ruminated, plotted, and set down, 
 And only stays but to behold the face 
 Of that occasion that shall bring it on. 
 
 Hot. I smell't : upon my life, it will do well. 
 
 North. Before the game's a-foot, thou still lett'st slip. 30 
 
 Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot : — 
 And then the power of Scotland and of York, 
 To join with Mortimer, ha? 
 
 Wor. And so they shall. 
 
 Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. 
 
 Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, 
 To save our heads by raising of a head ; 31 
 For, bear ourselves as even as we can, 
 
 29 Estimation in the sense of conjecture or inference. 
 
 30 This phrase is taken from hunting. To let slip is to let loose the hounds 
 when the game is ready for the chase. Unless the fox is a-foot, or out of 
 his hole, the hunters cannot get at him. 
 
 31 That is, save their heads by making prompt headway in resistance. 
 The use of head for army was common. 
 
82 THE FIRST PART OF ACT i. 
 
 The King will always think him in our debt, 
 And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, 
 Till he hath found a time to pay us home : 32 
 And see already how he doth begin 
 To make us strangers to his looks of love. 
 
 Hot. He does, he does : we'll be revenged on him. 
 
 Wor. Cousin, 33 farewell : no further go in this 
 Than I by letters shall direct your course. 
 When time is ripe, — which will be suddenly, — 
 I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer ; 
 Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once, 
 As I will fashion it, shall happily meet, 
 To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, 
 Which now we hold at much uncertainty. 
 
 North. Farewell, good brother : we shall thrive, I trust. 
 
 Hot. Uncle, adieu : O, let the hours be short, 
 Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport ! 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 32 To pay home is to pay, that is, punish, thoroughly, or to the uttermost. 
 So in The Tempest, v. i : "I will pay thy graces home both in word and 
 deed " ; where, however, pay is reward. 
 
 33 Cousin was a common term for nephew, niece, grandchild, and what 
 we mean by the word. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 83 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — Rochester. An Inn- Yard. 
 Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand. 
 
 1 Car. Heigh-ho ! an't be not four by the day, I'll be 
 hang'd : Charles' wain 1 is over the new chimney, and yet our 
 horse' not pack'd. — What, ostler ! 
 
 Ost. [Within.] Anon, anon. 
 
 1 Car. I pr'ythee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few 
 
 flocks in the point ; the poor jade is wrung in the withers 
 
 out of all cess. 2 
 
 Enter another Carrier. 
 
 2 Car. Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, 3 and 
 that is the next way to give poor jades the bots : this house 
 is turned upside down since Robin ostler died. 
 
 1 Car. Poor fellow ! never joyed since the price of oats 
 rose ; 4 it was the death of him. 
 
 1 Charles' Wain was the vulgar name for the constellation called the 
 Great Bear. It is a corruption of Chorles' or Churl's wain. 
 
 2 The withers of a horse is the ridge between the shoulder bones at the 
 bottom of the neck, right under the point of the saddle. Wrung 1 as thus 
 used is the same as gall 'd. So in Hamlet; " Let the gall' d jade wince, our 
 withers are unwrung." — Flocks are flakes or locks of wool. — Cess is an old 
 word for tax or subsidy ; the original of assess. When an assessment was 
 exorbitant, it was said to be out of all cess ; excessive. The Beggars' Bush 
 of B. and F. : " When the subsidy's increased, we are not a penny cess'd." 
 
 3 Dank is moist, damp. The dog was probably as much overworked in 
 comparisons three centuries ago as he is now. — " The next way " is the 
 nearest way. — Bots is worms, a disease that horses sometimes die of. 
 
 4 The price of grain was very high in 1596 ; which may have put Shake- 
 speare upon making poor Robin thus die of one idea. 
 
84 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 
 
 2 Car. I think this be the most villainous house in all 
 London road for fleas : I am stung like a tench. 5 
 
 1 Car. Like a tench ! by the Mass, there is ne'er a king 
 in Christendom could be better bit than I have been since 
 the first cock, — What, ostler ! come away and be hang'd ; 
 come away. 6 
 
 2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of gin- 
 ger, to be delivered as far as Charing-cross. 7 
 
 1 Car. 'Odsbody, 8 the turkeys in my pannier are quite 
 starved. 9 — What, ostler ! A plague on thee ! hast thou never 
 an eye in thy head? canst not hear? An 'twere not as good 
 a deed as drink to break the pate of thee, I am a very villain. 
 Come, and be hang'd : hast no faith in thee ? 
 
 Enter Gadshill. 
 
 Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock? 
 
 1 Car. I think it be two o'clock. 10 
 
 Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see my gelding 
 in the stable. 
 
 1 Car. Nay, soft, I pray ye ; I know a trick worth two 
 of that, i'faith. 
 
 Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thine. 
 
 5 Some fresh-water fish are at certain seasons infested with a sort of lice, 
 and so might be said to be stung. 
 
 6 Come away, is come along, or come, simply. Repeatedly so. 
 
 ' A raze of ginger is said to have been a term for a package of ginger ; 
 how large does not appear : not to be confounded with race, a root. — Char- 
 ing-cross was an ancient shrine, said to have been erected in memory of 
 Eleanor, Queen of Edward the First. Though the spot is now in the heart 
 of London, three centuries ago it was in the outskirts of the city. 
 
 8 Another disguised oath, whittled down from God's body. 
 
 9 Turkeys were not brought into England until the reign of Henry VIII. 
 
 10 The Carrier has just said, " An't be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd." 
 Probably he suspects Gadshill, and tries to mislead him. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 85 
 
 2 Car. Ay, when? canst tell? Lend me thy lantern, 
 quoth a? marry, I'll see thee hang'd first. 
 
 Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to 
 London ? 
 
 2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I war- 
 rant thee. — Come, neighbour Muggs, we'll call up the gen- 
 tlemen : they will along with company, for they have great 
 charge. \_Exeunt Carriers. 
 
 Gads. What, ho ! chamberlain ! 
 
 Cham. [ Within.'] At hand, quoth pick-purse. 11 
 
 Gads. That's even as fair as — at hand, quoth the cham- 
 berlain ; for thou variest no more from picking of purses than 
 giving direction doth from labouring; thou lay'st the plot 
 
 how. 12 
 
 Enter Chamberlain. 
 
 Cham. Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current 
 that I told you yesternight : there's a franklin 13 in the wild 
 of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold : 
 I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at sup- 
 per ; a kind of auditor ; 14 one that hath abundance of charge 
 too, God knows what. They are up already, and call for 
 eggs and butter : they will away presently. 
 
 11 A slang phrase of the time, often found in old plays. 
 
 12 Chamberlain was a term applied to certain tavern officers ; probably 
 much the same as bar-keeper in our time. As here represented, chamber- 
 lains often concerted with highwaymen for the waylaying of travellers, them- 
 selves sharing in the profits. 
 
 13 A freeholder or yeoman, a man above a vassal or villain, but not a 
 gentleman. This was the Franklin of the age of Elizabeth. In earlier times 
 he was a person of much more dignity. 
 
 14 An auditor was an officer of the revenue : his " abundance of charge " 
 was doubtless money belonging to the State ; as Gadshill afterwards says, 
 " 'tis going to the King's exchequer." 
 
86 THE FIRST PART OF ACT U 
 
 Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas' 
 clerks, 15 I'll give thee this neck. 
 
 Cham. No, I'll none of it : I pr'ythee, keep that fov the 
 hangman ; for I know thou worshippest Saint Nicholas as 
 truly as a man of falsehood may. 
 
 Gads. What talkest thou to me of the hangman? if I 
 hang, I'll make a fat pair of gallows ; for, if I hang, old Sir 
 John hangs with me, and thou know'st he's no starveling. 
 Tut ! there are other Trojans that thou dreamest not of, the 
 which, for sport-sake, are content to do the profession some 
 grace ; that would, if matters should be look'd into, for their 
 own credit-sake, make all whole. I am joined with no foot 
 land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers, none of these 
 mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms ; but with nobility 
 and tranquillity, burgomasters and great oneyers ; l6 such as 
 can hold in, 17 such as will strike sooner than speak, and speak 
 sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray : and yet, 
 zwounds, I lie ; for they pray continually to their saint, the 
 
 15 As Nicholas or Old Nick is a cant name for the Devil, so thieves are 
 equivocally called St. Nicholas" clerks. 
 
 16 A cant phrase for great ones ; the word being formed in much the 
 same way as auctioneer, privateer. — Foot land-rakers were footpads, wan- 
 derers on foot. — Long-staff sixpenny strikers were petty thieves, such as 
 would knock a man down for a sixpence. — Purple-hued malt-worms were 
 probably such as had their faces made red with drinking ale. 
 
 17 Hold in, as here used, appears to have been a term of the chase, ap- 
 plied to a pack of hounds when they all acted in concert, or pulled together 
 in pursuit of the game. So that the sense of the phrase as applied to men 
 would be stick by each other, or be true to each other. This interpretation 
 appears to be sustained by a passage in Turberville's Booke of Hunting : 
 " If they run it endways orderly and make it good, then, when they hold in 
 together merrily, we say, They are in a crie." In the old language of the 
 chase, a cry is a. pack; so that to be in a cry is to act as a pack in pursuit of 
 the game, or to act in concert. So in Sylvester's Du Bartas, 1641 : " A era 
 of hounds have here a deer in chase." See Midsummer, page 90, note 13* 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 87 
 
 Commonwealth ; or, rather, not pray to her, but prey on her ; 
 for they ride up and down on her, and make her their boots. 18 
 
 Cham. What, the Commonwealth their boots? will she 
 hold out water in foul way ? 19 
 
 Gads. She will, she will ; justice hath liquor'd her. 20 We 
 steal as in a castle, cock-sure ; we have the receipt of fern- 
 seed, — we walk invisible. 21 
 
 18 Boot is profit or advantage ; and in such cases it was common to use 
 the plural where present usage requires the singular. So we have such ex- 
 pressions as " your loves " and " your pities" and "your peaces!' — I have 
 never met with any printed comment on this passage that seemed to me at 
 all fitting or adequate. In the preceding note I have tried to explain a part 
 of it, but am not greatly satisfied with the result. Since that note was writ- 
 ten, I have received the following from Mr. Joseph Crosby, which satisfies 
 me better than any thing I have either found or been able to think out : 
 " Gadshill uses the word pray of course in the very opposite of its meaning ; 
 as we should have expected swear or curse, rather than pray. I take his 
 whole speech to be a piece of braggadocio, somewhat like this : ' Have no 
 fears of my companions : I am joined with none of your loose-tongued 
 braggarts, but with men that can hold i-, and keep their mouths shut, if need 
 be ; such as will knock a man on the head as quick as bid him stand ; and 
 such as would bid a man stand as quick as they would drink ; and such as 
 would drink sooner than — pray, I tell you : you think I am joking ; but, if 
 it be any joke, I'm a liar ; for they do pray ; they pray continually to their 
 saint, the commonwealth ; or rather, not pray to her, but prey on her,' &c." 
 
 19 A quibble, of course, upon boots and booty. 
 
 20 Greasing or oiling boots, to make them " hold out water in foul way," 
 was called liquoring them. So in the Merry Wives, iv. 5 : " They would 
 melt me out of my fat drop by drop, and liquor fishermen's boots with me." 
 — Cock-sure is explained by Holloway as originating in the fact that the 
 gun-lock which had a cock to it, as that part which holds the flint and 
 strikes the fire is called, was found much more sure in firing than the old 
 match-lock had been. The explanation is not very satisfactory, but I can 
 give none better. 
 
 21 Fern-seed was of old thought to have the power of rendering those in- 
 visible who carried it. So in Ben Jonson's New Inn, i. 1 : " Because indeed 
 I had no medicine, sir, to go invisible ; no fern-seed in my pocket." I sus- 
 pect the key to the mystery lies partly in this, that ferns do not propagate by 
 
88 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IL 
 
 Cham. Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding 
 to the night than to fern-seed for your walking invisible. 
 
 Gads. Give me thy hand : thou shalt have a share in our 
 purchase, as I am a true man. 22 
 
 Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief. 
 
 Gads. Go to ; homo is a common name to all men. Bid 
 the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, ye 
 muddy knave. \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — The Road by Gads-hill. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry and Pointz ; Bardolph and Peto at 
 
 some distance. 
 
 Pointz. Come, shelter, shelter : I have removed FalstafFs 
 horse, and he frets like a gumm'd velvet. 1 
 
 Prince. Stand close. \They retire. 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. Pointz ! Pointz, and be hang'd ! Pointz ! 
 
 seeds, but by spores, which are invisible. So Gerard, in his Herbal, 1597, 
 states the fern to be " one of those plants which have their seede on the back 
 of the leaf, so small as to escape the sighte. Those who perceived that feme 
 was propagated by semination, and yet could never see the seede, were 
 much at a losse for a solution of the difficultie." It appears, also, that 
 there was a special formula of directions as to the time and manner of 
 gathering the seed so as to make its wonderful properties available. Prob- 
 ably the words " receipt of fern-seed " refer to this. 
 
 22 Purchase was used in the sense of gain, profit, whether legally or ille- 
 gally obtained. So in Henry V., iii. 2 : " They will steal any thing, and call 
 it purchase? — "True man" occurs repeatedly in this play for honest man, 
 and so antithetic to thief. In the next scene the Prince says, " The thieves 
 have bound the true men." The usage was common. 
 
 1 An equivoque on frets. Velvet and taffeta were sometimes starched 
 with gum ; in which cases the fabric soon got fretted away and spoilt. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 89 
 
 Prince. [Coming forward^ Peace, ye fat-kidney'd ras- 
 cal ! what a brawling dost thou keep ! 
 
 Fal. Where's Pointz, Hal? 
 
 Prince. He is walk'd up to the top of the hill : I'll go 
 seek him. [Retires. 
 
 Fal. I am accursed to rob 2 in that thief's company : the 
 rascal hath removed my horse, and tied him I know not 
 where. If I travel but four foot by the squire 3 further a-foot, 
 I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair 
 death for all this, if I 'scape hanging for killing that rogue. 
 I have forsworn his company hourly any time this two-and- 
 twenty year, and yet I am bewitch'd with the rogue's com- 
 pany. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make 
 me love him, 4 I'll be hang'd ; it could not be else : I have 
 drunk medicines. — Pointz ! — Hal ! — a plague upon you 
 both ! — Bardolph ! — Peto ! — I'll starve, ere I'll rob a foot 
 further. An 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to turn 
 true man, and to leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet 
 that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven 
 ground is threescore and ten miles a-foot with me ; and the 
 stony-hearted villains know it well enough : a plague upon't, 
 when thieves cannot be true one to another ! [They whistle.'] 
 Whew ! — A plague upon you all ! Give me my horse, you 
 rogues ; give me my horse, and be hang'd. 
 
 Prince. [Coming forward.~\ Peace ! lie down ; lay thine 
 
 2 To rob is another gerundial infinitive, and so the same as in robbing. 
 The usage is very frequent in Shakespeare. See page 78, note 18. 
 
 3 Squire was often used for a carpenter's measuring- rule; commonly 
 called a square. Its length is two feet; and it has a shorter arm making a 
 right angle with the longer one, so as to be used for squaring timbers. 
 
 4 Alluding to the philters or love-powders, which were supposed to have 
 the effect in question. So, in Othello, i. 3, Brabantio says, " she is abused 
 and corrupted by spells and medicines bought of mountebanks." 
 
90 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IL 
 
 ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread 
 of travellers. 
 
 Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being 
 down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far a-foot 
 again for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. What a 
 plague mean ye to colt 5 me thus ? 
 
 Prince. Thou liest ; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted. 
 
 Fal. I pr'ythee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, 
 good king's son. 
 
 Prince. Out, ye rogue ! shall I be your ostler? 
 
 Fal. Go, hang thyself in thine own heir- apparent garters ! 
 
 If I be ta'en, I'll peach 6 for this. An I have not ballads 
 
 made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, 7 let a cup of sack 
 
 be my poison. When a jest is so forward, and a-foot too, I 
 
 hate it. 
 
 Enter Gadshill. 
 
 Gads. Stand ! 
 
 Fal. So I do, against my will. 
 
 Pointz. O, 'tis our setter : 8 I know his voice. 
 
 {^Coming forward with Bardolph andVYXO. 
 
 Bard. What news? 
 
 Gads. Case ye, case ye ; on with your visards : there's 
 money of the King's coming down the hill ; 'tis going to the 
 King's exchequer. 
 
 5 To colt is to trick, fool, or deceive. The Prince plays upon the word, as 
 Falstaff has lost his horse. 
 
 6 To peach is, in our phrase, to " turn State's evidence." The radical 
 sense of the word survives in impeach. 
 
 7 This was considered a pretty sharp infliction. Shakespeare was said 
 to have thus revenged himself on Sir Thomas Lucy with a ballad. The 
 Psalmist's complaint, " And the drunkards made songs upon me," naturally 
 occurs in connection with it. 
 
 8 The one who was to set a match. See page 65, note 23. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 9 1 
 
 Fa/. You lie, ye rogue ; 'tis going to the King's tavern. 
 
 Gads. There's enough to make us all. 
 
 Fal. To be hang'd. 
 
 Prince. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane ; 
 Ned Pointz and I will walk lower : if they 'scape from youi 
 encounter, then they light on us. 
 
 Peto. How many be there of them ? 
 
 Gads. Some eight or ten. 
 
 Fal. Zwounds, will they not rob us ? 
 
 Prince. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch ? 
 
 Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather ; 
 but yet no coward, Hal. 
 
 Prince. Well, we leave that to the proof. 
 
 Pointz. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge : 
 when thou need'st him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, 
 and stand fast. 
 
 Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd. 
 
 Prince. [Aside to Pointz.] Ned, where are our disguises ? 
 
 Pointz. [Aside to P. Hen.] Here, hard by : stand close. 
 
 [Exeunt P. Henry and Pointz. 
 
 Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, 9 say I : 
 every man to his business. 
 
 Enter Travellers. 
 
 i Trav. Come, neighbour : 
 The boy shall lead our horses down the hill ; 
 We'll walk a-foot awhile, and ease our legs. 
 
 Fa/., Gads., &c. Stand ! 
 
 2 Trav. Jesu bless us ! 
 
 9 A common phrase of the time meaning much the same as our "Success 
 to you ! " Dole is deal, lot, or portion : hence, " may happiness be his lot." 
 See The Winter's Tale, page 48, note 26. 
 
92 THE FIRST PART OF 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Fal. Strike ; down with them ; cut the villains' throats. 
 Ah, whoreson caterpillars ! bacon-fed knaves ! they hate us 
 youth : down with them ; fleece them. 
 
 i Trav. O, we're undone, both we and ours for ever ! 
 
 Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye undone? No, 
 ye fat chuffs ; 10 I would your store were here ! On, bacons, 
 on ! What, ye knaves ! young men must live. You are 
 grand-jurors, are ye ? we'll jure ye, i'faith. 
 
 \_Exeunt Fal., Gads., &>c, driving the Travellers out. 
 
 Re-enter Prince Henry and Pointz, in buckram suits. 
 
 Prince. The thieves have bound the true men. Now, 
 could thou and I rob the thieves, and go merrily to London, 
 it would be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and 
 a good jest for ever. 
 
 Pointz. Stand close : I hear them coming. [They retire. 
 
 Re-enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto. 
 
 Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse 
 before day. An the Prince and Pointz be not two arrant 
 cowards, there's no equity stirring : there's no more valour 
 in that Pointz than in a wild-duck. 
 
 \_As they are sharing, the Prince and Pointz 
 
 Prince. Your money ! set upon them. 
 
 10 A chuff, according to Richardson, is a " burly, swollen man ; swollen 
 either with gluttony and guzzling, or with ill tempers." So in Massinger's 
 Duke of Milan : " To see these chuffs, who every day may spend a soldier's 
 entertainment for a year, yet make a third meal of a bunch of raisins." — 
 Gorbellied is another word of about the same meaning, — pot-bellied. — Fal- 
 staff, " a huge hill of flesh," reviling his victims for their corpulence, is an 
 exquisite stroke of humour. Still better, perhaps, his exclaiming " they hate 
 us youth," — the old sinner ! — and " young men must live." 
 
SCENE in. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 93 
 
 Pointz. Villains ! 
 
 [Falstaff, after a blow or two, and the others 
 run away, leaving the booty behind them. 
 
 Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse : 
 The thieves are scatter'd, and possess'd with fear 
 So strongly that they dare not meet each other ; 
 Each takes his fellow for an officer. 
 Away, good Ned. Fat Falstaff sweats to death, 
 And lards the lean earth as he walks along : 
 Were't not for laughing, I should pity him. 
 
 Pointz. How the rogue roar'd ! \_Exeunt 
 
 Scene III. — Warkworth. A Room in the Castle. 
 
 Enter Hotspur, reading a letter^ 
 
 Hot. — But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well 
 contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your House. 
 — He could be contented ; why is he not, then ? In respect 
 of the love he bears our House ! — he shows in this, he loves 
 his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see 
 some more. The purpose you undertake is dangerous; — 
 Why, that's certain : 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, 
 to drink ; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, dan- 
 ger, we pluck this flower, safety. The purpose you undertake 
 is dangerous ; the friends you have named uncertain; the 
 time itself unsorted; and your whole plot too light for the 
 
 1 This letter was from George Dunbar, Earl of March, in Scotland. 
 Marches is an old word for borders ; and Earls of March were so called 
 from their having charge of the borders, whether those between England 
 and Scotland, or those between England and Wales. In the days of border 
 warfare, the charge was an important one. 
 
94 THE FIRST PART OF 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 counterpoise of so great an opposition. — Say you so, say you 
 so ? I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, 
 and you lie. What a lack-brain is this ! By the Lord, our 
 plot is a good plot as ever was laid ; our friends true and 
 constant : a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation ; 
 an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited 
 rogue is this ! Why, my Lord of York commends the plot 
 and the general course of the action. Zwounds ! an I were 
 now by this rascal, I could brain him 2 with his lady's fan. 
 Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself? Lord Edmund 
 Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower ? is there 
 not, besides, the Douglas ? have I not all their letters to meet 
 me in arms by the ninth of the next month ? and are they 
 not some of them set forward already ? What a pagan rascal 
 is this ! an infidel ! Ha ! you shall see now, in very sincerity 
 of fear and cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all 
 our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to buf- 
 fets, 3 for moving such a dish of skimm'd milk with so hon- 
 ourable an action ! Hang him J let him tell the King : we 
 are prepared. I will set forward to-night. — 
 
 Enter Lady Percy. 
 
 How now, Kate ! 4 I must leave you within these two hours. 
 
 Lady. O, my good lord, why are you thus alone ? 
 For what offence have I this fortnight been 
 A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed? 
 Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee 
 
 2 Knock his brains out. See The Tempest, page 107, note 11. 
 
 3 Cut myself into two parts, and set the parts to cuffing each other. 
 
 4 The Poet seems to have had a special liking for the name of Kate. 
 The name of Hotspur's wife was Elizabeth. Holinshed, however, calls her 
 Elinor. 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 95 
 
 Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep ? 
 
 Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth, 
 
 And start so often when thou sitt'st alone ? 
 
 Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ; 
 
 And given my treasures and my rights of thee 
 
 To thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy ? 
 
 In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd, 
 
 And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars ; 
 
 Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ; 
 
 Cry, Courage! to the field 7 And thou hast talk'd 
 
 Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents, 
 
 Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, 
 
 Of basilisks, 5 of cannon, culverin, 
 
 Of prisoners ransom'd, and of soldiers slain, 
 
 And all the 'currents 6 of a heady fight. 
 
 Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, 
 
 And thou hast so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 
 
 That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow, 
 
 Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream ; 
 
 And in thy face strange motions have appear 'd, 
 
 Such as we see when men restrain their breath 
 
 On some great sudden hest. 7 O, what portents are these? 
 
 Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
 
 And I must know it, else he loves me not. 
 
 Hot What, ho ! 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Is Gilliam s with the packet gone? 
 
 5 Retires are retreats. — Frontiers formerly meant not only the bounds 
 of different territories, but also the forts built along or near those limits. — . 
 Basilisks are a species of ordnance; so called from their supposed resenv 
 blance to the serpent of that name. 
 
 6 'Currents, that is, occurrents, is an old form for occurrences. 
 
 7 Hest is behest. — summons or command. 
 
96 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II 
 
 Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago. 
 
 Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff? 
 
 Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. 
 
 Hot. What horse ? a roan, a crop- ear, is it not ? 
 
 Serv. It is, my lord. 
 
 Hot. That roan shall be my throne. 
 
 Well, I will back him straight : O esperance / 8 — 
 Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. \Exit Servant. 
 
 Lady. But hear you, my lord. 
 
 Hot. What say'st thou, my lady ? 
 
 Lady. What is it carries you away ? 
 
 Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse. 
 
 Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape ! 
 A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen 
 As you are toss'd with. 9 In faith, 
 I'll know your business, Harry, that I will. 
 I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir 
 About his title, and hath sent for you 
 To line 10 his enterprise : but if you go, — 
 
 Hot. So far a-foot, I shall be weary, love. 
 
 Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, 11 answer me 
 Directly to this question that I ask : 
 In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry, 
 An if thou wilt not tell me true. 
 
 8 Esperance was the motto of the Percy family. The word is French, and 
 means hope. Here it is three syllables ; later in the play it is four. 
 
 9 As the spleen was held to be the special seat of all sudden and explo- 
 sive emotions, whether of mirth or anger ; so it is aptly assigned here as the 
 cause of Hotspur's skittishness, or the swift jerks of speech and action which 
 he is playing off. 
 
 10 The Poet has line repeatedly for strengthen. So in Macbeth, i. 3 : " Did 
 line the rebel with hidden help and vantage." 
 
 U Paraquito is a small parrot ; also called perroquet and parakeet. 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 97 
 
 Hot. Away, 
 
 Away, you trifler ! Love ? I love thee not, 
 I care not for thee, Kate : this is no world 
 To play with mammets 12 and to tilt with lips : 
 We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns, 
 And pass them current too. 13 — Gods me, my horse ! — 
 What say'st thou, Kate ? what wouldst thou have with me ? 
 
 Lady. Do you not love me ? do you not, indeed ? 
 Well, do not, then ; for, since you love me not, 
 I will not love myself. Do you not love me ? 
 Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no. 
 
 Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride ? 
 And when I am o' horseback, I will swear 
 I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate ; 
 I must not have you henceforth question me 
 Whither I go, nor reason whereabout : 
 Whither I must, I must ; and, to conclude, 
 This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. 
 I know you wise, but yet no further wise 
 Than Harry Percy's wife ; constant you are ; 
 But yet a woman : and, for secrecy, 
 No lady closer ; for I well believe 
 Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know ; 
 And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate. 
 
 Lady. How ! so far? 
 
 Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate : 
 
 12 Mammets were puppets or dolls, here used by Shakespeare for a. female 
 plaything ; a diminutive of mam. So in Junius's Nomenclator, 1585 : " Icun- 
 culae, mammets or puppets that goe by devises of wyer or strings, as though 
 they had life and moving." 
 
 13 A play, of course, between the two senses of crowns, that is, heads, and 
 the coin so named. A crack in a coin sometimes made it uncurrent; 
 and it might be big enough to make a head so too. 
 
98 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II 
 
 Whither I go, thither shall you go too ; 
 To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you. 
 Will this content you, Kate ? 
 
 Lady. It must of force. \Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — Eastcheap} A Room in the Boar* s-Head 
 
 Tavern. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry. 
 
 Prince. Ned, pr'ythee, come out of that fat room, 2 and 
 lend me thy hand to laugh a little. 
 
 Enter Pointz. 
 
 Pointz. Where hast been, Hal? 
 
 Prince. With three or four loggerheads 3 amongst three or 
 fourscore hogsheads. I have sounded the very base-string of 
 humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash 4 of drawers ; 
 and can call them all by their Christian names, as, Tom, 
 
 1 Eastcheap is selected with propriety for the scene of the Prince's merry 
 meetings, as it was near his own residence ; a mansion called Cold Har- 
 bour, near All-Hallows Church, Upper Thames Street, being granted to 
 Henry, Prince of Wales. Shakespeare has hung up a sign for them that 
 he saw daily ; for the Boar's-Head Tavern was very near Blackfriars' Play- 
 house. 
 
 2 It does not well appear what room Pointz was in, or why it is called 
 fat. To be sure, fat and vat were both used for what we call wine-vats. 
 So in Antony and Cleopatra, ii. 7 : " Come, thou monarch of the vine \ in thy 
 fats our cares be drown'd," &c. But, so, a fat-room would be in a place 
 where wine was made, not in a tavern where it was drunk. See Critical 
 Notes. 
 
 3 Loggerheads probably means blockheads. 
 
 4 Leash is properly a string or thong for leading a dog ; and it came to 
 signify a trio, because three dogs were usually coupled together. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 99 
 
 Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, 
 that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the king of 
 courtesy ; and tell me flatly I am no proud Jack, like FalstarT, 
 but a corinthian, 5 a lad of mettle, a good boy, — by the Lord, 
 so they call me ; — and, when I am King of England, I shall 
 command all the good lads in Eastcheap. They call drinking 
 deep, dying scarlet ; and, when you breathe in your watering, 8 
 they cry hem ! and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am 
 so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, that I can 
 drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. 
 I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour, that thou wert 
 not with me in this action. But, sweet Ned, — to sweeten 
 which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, 
 clapp'd even now into my hand by an under-skinker ; 7 one that 
 never spake other English in his life than Eight shillings 
 and sixpence, and, You are welcome ; with this shrill addition, 
 Anon, anon, sir / Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon* 
 
 5 Corinthian and Trojan appear to have been a sort of flash terms in use 
 among the fast young men of the time. Corinthian probably had some ref- 
 erence to the morals of ancient Corinth. Milton, in his Apology for Smec- 
 tymnus, speaks of " the sage and rheumatic old prelatess, with all her 
 Corinthian laity." 
 
 6 To breathe in your watering is to stop and take breath when you are 
 drinking. So in Rowland's Letting of Humour 's Blood, 1600 : 
 
 A pox of piece-meal drinking, William says, 
 Play it away, we'll have no stoppes and stays. 
 
 Also in Peacham's Compleat Gentleman : " If he dranke off his cups cleanely, 
 took not his wind in his draught, spit not, left nothing in the pot. nor spilt 
 any upon the ground, he had the prize." 
 
 7 It appears that the drawers kept sugar folded up in paper, ready to be 
 delivered to those who called for sack. — An under-skinker is a tapster, an 
 under-drawer, Skink is from scene, drink ; Saxon. 
 
 8 Half-moon is used as the name of a room in the tavern ; and so is 
 Pomegranate a little after. — Score was a term for keeping accounts, when 
 
IOO THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 
 
 — or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, 
 I pr'ythee, do thou stand in some by-room, while I question 
 my puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar ; and do 
 thou never leave calling Francis / that his tale to me may 
 be nothing but anon. Step aside, and I'll show thee a 
 precedent. 9 [Exit Pointz. 
 
 Pointz. [ Within.] Francis ! 
 
 Prince. Thou art perfect. 
 
 Pointz. [ Within.'] Francis ! 
 
 Enter Francis. 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. — Look down into the Pomegran- 
 ate, Ralph. 
 
 Prince. Come hither, Francis. 
 
 Fran. My lord? 
 
 Prince. How long hast thou to serve, Francis ? 
 
 Fran, Forsooth, five years, and as much as to — 
 
 Pointz. [ Within."] Francis ! 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 Prince. Five years ! by'r Lady, 10 a long lease for the clink- 
 ing of pewter. 11 But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant as to 
 play the coward with thy indenture, and show it a fair pair of 
 heels and run from it ? 
 
 Fran. O Lord, sir, I'll be sworn upon all the books in 
 England, I could find in my heart — 
 
 Pointz. [ Within.] Francis ! 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 tally-sticks were in use. — Bastard, it seems, was the name of a certain wine. 
 In the Half-moon refers to the person occupying that room. 
 
 9 A precedent here means an example or specimen, 
 
 10 " By our Lady " was a common oath ; referring to Saint Mary the 
 Virgin. 
 
 11 Probably meaning pewter cups for serving wine. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. IOI 
 
 Prince. How old art thou, Francis ? 
 
 Fran. Let me see, — about Michaelmas 12 next I shall be — 
 
 Pointz. [ Within.~\ Francis ! 
 
 Fran. Anon, sir. — Pray you, stay a little, my lord. 
 
 Prince. Nay, but hark you, Francis : for the sugar thou 
 gavest me, 'twas a pennyworth, was't not ? 
 
 Fran. O Lord, sir, I would it had been two ! 
 
 Prince. I will give thee for it a thousand pound : ask me 
 when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. 
 
 Pointz. [ Within.'] Francis ! 
 
 Fran. Anon, anon. 
 
 Prince. Anon, Francis ? No, Francis ; but to-morrow, 
 Francis ; or, Francis, on Thursday ; or, indeed, Francis, when 
 thou wilt. But, Francis, — 
 
 Fran. My lord ? 
 
 Prince. — wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, 13 crystal-but- 
 ton, nott-pated, agate -ring, puke - stocking, caddis - garter, 
 smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch, — 
 
 Fran. O Lord, sir, who do you mean? 
 
 Prince. Why, then, your brown bastard 14 is your only 
 
 12 Michaelmas, the festival of St. Michael and All Angels, falls on the 
 29th of September. 
 
 13 The Prince refers to Francis's master, to whom he applies these con- 
 temptuous epithets. — Nott-pated is shorn-pated, or cropped; having the hair 
 cut close. — Puke-stockings are dark-coloured stockings. Puke is a colour be- 
 tween russet and black. — Caddis was probably a kind of ferret or worsted 
 lace. A slight kind of serge still bears the name of cadis in France. 
 
 14 Bastard wines are said to be Spanish wines in general, by Olaus Mag- 
 nus. He speaks of them with almost as much enthusiasm as Falstaff does 
 of sack. — Making a remark or asking a question utterly irrelevant to the 
 matter in hand, is an old trick of humour. We have had it once before in 
 the question, " And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench ? " 
 Here it is used for the purpose of mystifying poor Francis. Ben Jonson 
 calls it " a game of vapours." 
 
102 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 
 
 drink ; for, look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will 
 sully : in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much. 
 Fran. What, sir? 
 Pointz. [ Within.'] Francis ! 
 
 Prince. Away, you rogue ! dost thou not hear them call? 
 [Here they both call him ; Francis stands amazed, 
 not knowing which way to go. 
 
 Enter Vintner. 
 
 Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling? 
 Look to the guests within. [Exit Francis.] — My lord, 
 old Sir John, with half-a-dozen more, are at the door : shall 
 I let them in ? 
 
 Prince. Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. 
 [Exit Vintner.] — Pointz ! 
 
 Re-enter Pointz. 
 
 Pointz. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 Prince. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at 
 the door : shall we be merry ? 
 
 Pointz. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye ; what 
 cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? 
 come, what's the issue? 
 
 Prince. I am now of all humours that have showed them- 
 selves humours since the old days of goodman Adam to the 
 pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. 15 — 
 What's o'clock, Francis? 
 
 Fran. [Within^ Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 Prince. That ever this fellow should have fewer words 
 than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman ! His industry 
 
 15 The Prince means, apparently, that he is now up to any sort of game 
 that will yield sport and pass away the time. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. IO3 
 
 is up-stairs and down-stairs ; his eloquence the parcel of a 
 reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of 
 the North ; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots 
 at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife, Fie 
 upon this quiet life / / want work. O my sweet Harry, 
 says she, how many hast thou kilVd to-day ? Give my roan 
 horse a drench, says he ; and answers, Some fourteen, an 
 hour after, — a trifle, a trifle. I pr'ythee, call in Falstaff: 
 I'll play Percy, and that damn'd brawn shall play Dame 
 Mortimer his wife. Rivo, lQ says the drunkard. Call in ribs, 
 call in tallow. 
 
 Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto ; followed 
 by Francis with wine. 
 
 Pointz. Welcome, Jack : where hast thou been ? 
 
 Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too ! 
 marry, and amen ! — Give me a cup of sack, boy. — Ere I 
 lead this life long, I'll sew nether-stocks, 17 and mend them 
 and foot them too. A plague of all cowards ! — Give me a 
 cup of sack, rogue. — Is there no virtue extant ? \_Drinks. 
 
 Prince. Didst thou never see Titan 18 kiss a dish of butter ? 
 pitiful-hearted butter, that melted at the sweet tale of the 
 Sun ! if thou didst, then behold that compound. 
 
 16 Of this exclamation, which was frequently used in Bacchanalian rev- 
 elry, the origin or derivation has not been discovered. — Brawn refers to 
 Falstaff 's plumpness and rotundity. Properly the word means any promi- 
 nent muscular part of the body, especially of the arms. 
 
 17 Nether-stocks were what we now call stockings. 
 
 18 In the classical ages of Greece the name Titan was given to various 
 mythological personages, supposed to be descended from the original 
 Titans, and among others to Helios, the god of the Sun. In Shakespeare's 
 time the name was in common use for the Sun. 
 
104 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 
 
 Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too : 19 there is 
 nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man : yet a 
 coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it, a villain- 
 ous coward. — Go thy ways, old Jack : die when thou wilt, 
 if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot 20 upon the face 
 of the Earth, then am I a shotten herring. 21 There live not 
 three good men unhang'd in England; and one of them is 
 fat, and grows old : God help the while ! a bad world, I say. 
 I would I were a weaver ; I could sing psalms or any thing. 22 
 A plague of all cowards ! I say still. 
 
 Prince. How now, wool- sack ! what mutter you ? 
 
 Fal. A king's son \ If I do not beat thee out of thy 
 kingdom with a dagger of lath, 23 and drive all thy subjects 
 afore thee like a flock of wild-geese, I'll never wear hair on 
 my face more. You Prince of Wales ! 
 
 Prince. Why, you whoreson round man, what's the matter ? 
 
 Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to that: — and 
 Pointz there ? 
 
 19 Putting lime in sack and other wines appears to have been a common 
 device for making them seem fresh and sparkling, when in truth they were 
 spiritless and stale. Eliot, in his Orthoepia, 1593, says, " The vintners of Lon- 
 don put in lime, and thence proceed infinite maladies, especially the gouts." 
 
 20 The meaning is, " if, when thou shalt die, manhood, good manhood, 
 be not forgot," &c. Shakespeare has a great many instances of shall and 
 will used indiscriminately. 
 
 21 A shotten herring is one that has cast her spawn, and is therefore very 
 lean and lank. 
 
 22 Weavers are mentioned as lovers of music in Twelfth Night. The 
 Protestants who fled from the persecutions of Alva were mostly weavers, and, 
 being Calvinists, were distinguished for their love of psalmody. Weavers 
 were supposed to be generally good singers : their trade being sedentary, 
 they had an opportunity of practising, and sometimes in parts, while they 
 were at work. 
 
 23 A dagger of lath was the weapon given to the Vice in the old Moral- 
 plays; hence it came to be a theme of frequent allusion. See Twelfth 
 Night, page 119, note 17. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. IO5 
 
 Pointz. Zwounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, by 
 the Lord, I'll stab thee. 
 
 Fal. I call thee coward ! I'll see thee damn'd ere I call 
 thee coward : but I would give a thousand pound, I could 
 run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the 
 shoulders ; you care not who sees your back : call you that 
 backing of your friends ? A plague upon such backing ! give 
 me them that will face me. — Give me a cup of sack : I am 
 a rogue, if I drunk to-day. 
 
 Prince. O villain ! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou 
 drunk'st last. 
 
 Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards ! still 
 say I. \D rinks. 
 
 Prince. What's the matter? 
 
 Fal. What's the matter ! there be four of us here have 
 ta'en a thousand pound this day morning. 
 
 Prince. Where is it, Jack ? where is it ? 
 
 Fal. Where is it ! taken from us it is : a hundred upon 
 poor four of us. 
 
 Prince. What, a hundred, man? 
 
 Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword 24 with a 
 dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by 
 miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four 
 through the hose ; my buckler cut through and through ; my 
 sword hack'd like a hand-saw, — ecce signumf I never dealt 
 better since I was a man : all would not do. A plague of 
 all cowards ! Let them speak : if they speak more or less 
 than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness. 
 
 Prince. Speak, sirs'; how was it? 
 
 Gads. We four set upon some dozen, — 
 
 24 Half-sword appears to have been a term of fencing, for a close fight, of 
 a fight within half the length of the sword. 
 
106 THE FIRST PART OF 
 
 ACT IL 
 
 Fal. Sixteen at least, my lord. 
 
 Gads. — and bound them. 
 
 Peto. No, no ; they were not bound. 
 
 Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them ; 
 or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. 
 
 Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men 
 set upon us, — 
 
 Fal. And unbound the rest, and then came in the other. 
 
 Prince. What, fought ye with them all? 
 
 Fal. All ! I know not what ye call all ; but if I fought 
 not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish : if there were 
 not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no 
 two-legged creature. 
 
 Prince. Pray God you have not murdered some of them. 
 
 Fal. Nay, that's past praying for : I have pepper'd two 
 of them ; two I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buck- 
 ram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit 
 in my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward : 25 
 here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buck- 
 ram let drive at me, — 
 
 Prince. What, four ? thou saidst but two even now. 
 
 Fal. Four, Hal ; I told thee four. 
 
 Pointz. Ay, ay, he said four. 
 
 Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me. 
 I made me no more ado but took all their seven points in 
 my target, thus. 
 
 Prince. Seven? why, there were but four even now. 
 
 25 Old ward is old posture of defence; his usual mode of warding- off the 
 adversary's blows. See page 68, note 32. — In Falstaff 's next speech but 
 one, the words " mainly thrust " mean thrust mightily, or, as we say, " with 
 might and main." The Poet has main repeatedly in this sense ; as " the 
 main flood" and " the main of waters " ; that is, the mighty ocean. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. IO7 
 
 Fal. In buckram ? 
 
 Pointz. Ay, four, in buckram suits. 
 
 Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. 
 
 Prince. \Aside to Pointz.] Pr'ythee, let him alone ; we 
 shall have more anon. 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal? 
 
 Prince. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. 
 
 Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine 
 in buckram that I told thee of, — 
 
 Prince. So, two more already. 
 
 Fal. — their points being broken, — 
 
 Pointz. Down fell their hose. 26 
 
 Fal. — began to give me ground : but I followed me 
 close, came in foot and hand ; and with a thought seven of 
 the eleven I paid. 
 
 Prince. O monstrous ! eleven buckram men grown out of 
 two ! 
 
 Fal. But, as the Devil would have it, three misbegotten 
 knaves in Kendal Green 27 came at my back and let drive at 
 me ; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand. 
 
 Prince. These lies are like the father that begets them, 
 gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou nott-pated 
 fool, thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-keech, 28 — 
 
 Fal. What, art thou mad ? art thou mad ? is not the truth 
 the truth? 
 
 26 The jest lies in a quibble upon points, Falstaff using the word for the 
 sharp end of a weapon, Pointz for the tagged lace with which garments were 
 then fastened. See Twelfth Night, page 44, note 3. 
 
 27 Kendal green was the livery of Robin Hood and his men. The colour 
 took its name from Kendal, in Westmoreland, formerly celebrated for its 
 cloth manufacture. 
 
 28 A keech of tallow is the fat of an ox or cow rolled up by the butcher 
 into a round lump, in order to be carried to the chandler. 
 
108 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 
 
 Prince. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Ken- 
 dal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy 
 hand ? come, tell us your reason : what say'st thou to this ? 
 
 Poiniz. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. 
 
 Fal. What, upon compulsion ? No ; were I at the strap- 
 pado, 29 or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on 
 compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion ! if reasons 30 
 were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason 
 upon compulsion, I. 
 
 Prince. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin ; this sanguine 
 coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back-breaker, this huge 
 hill of flesh,— 
 
 Fal. Away, you starveling, you eel-skin, you dried neat's- 
 tongue, you stock-fish, — O, for breath to utter what is like 
 thee ! — you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile 
 standing tuck, 31 — 
 
 Prince. • Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again : and, 
 when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me 
 speak but this : — 
 
 Pointz. Mark, Jack. 
 
 Prince. — We two saw you four set on four; you bound 
 them, and were masters of their wealth. — Mark now, how 
 a plain tale shall put you down. — Then did we two set on 
 
 29 The strappado was a dreadful punishment inflicted on soldiers and 
 criminals, by drawing them up on high with their arms tied backward. 
 Randle Holme says that they were let fall half way with a jerk, which not 
 only broke the arms, but shook all the joints out of joint ; " which pun- 
 ishment it is better to be hanged than for a man to undergo." 
 
 30 It appears that reason and raisin were pronounced alike. 
 
 31 Tuck was one of the names for a straight, slim sword, also called ra- 
 pier. This and all the foregoing terms are applied to the Prince in allusion 
 to his slenderness of person. The Poet had historical authority for this ; as 
 Stowe says of the Prince, " He exceeded the mean stature of men, his neck 
 long, body slender and lean, and his bones small." 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. IO9 
 
 you four ; and, with a word, 32 outfaced you from your prize, 
 and have it ; yea, and can show it you here in the house : — 
 and, Falstaff, you carried yourself away as nimbly, with 
 as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran and 
 roar'd, as ever I heard bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to 
 hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in 
 fight ! What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst 
 thou now find out to hide thee from this open and apparent 
 shame ? 
 
 Pointz. Come, let's hear, Jack ; what trick hast thou now ? 
 
 Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he that made ye. 
 Why, hear ye, my masters : Was it for me to kill the heir- 
 apparent? should I turn upon the true Prince? why, thou 
 knowest I am as valiant as Hercules : but beware instinct ; 
 the lion will not touch the true Prince. Instinct is a great 
 matter ; I was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better 
 of myself and thee during my life ; I for a valiant lion, and 
 thou for a true prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am glad 
 you have the money. — \To Hostess within.~\ Hostess, clap- to 
 the doors : watch to-night, pray to-morrow. — Gallants, lads, 
 boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come 
 to you ! What, shall we be merry? shall we have a play ex- 
 tempore ? 
 
 Prince. Content ; and the argument shall be thy running 
 away. 
 
 Fal. Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me ! 
 
 Enter the Hostess. 
 Host. O Jesu, my lord the Prince, — 
 
 32 •« With a word " is the same as in a word, or in short. 
 
I IO THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 
 
 Prince. How now, my lady the hostess ! 33 what say'st thou 
 to me? 
 
 Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the Court at 
 door would speak with you : he says he comes from your father. 
 
 Prince. Give him as much as will make him a royal man, 34 
 and send him back again to my mother. 
 
 Fat. What manner of man is he ? 
 
 Host. An old man. 
 
 Fat. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight ? Shall 
 I give him his answer? 
 
 Prince. Pr'ythee, do, Jack. 
 
 Fat. Faith, and I'll send him packing. \_Exit. 
 
 Prince. Now, sirs : — by'r Lady, you fought fair ; — so did 
 you, Peto; — so did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you 
 ran away upon instinct, you will not touch the true Prince ; 
 no, — fie ! 
 
 Bard. Faith, I ran when I saw others run. 
 
 Prince. Tell me now in earnest, how came FalstafPs 
 sword so hack'd? 
 
 Peto. Why, he hack'd it with his dagger ; and said he 
 would swear truth out of England, but he would make you 
 believe it was done in fight; and persuaded us to do the 
 like. 
 
 33 A sportive rejoinder to her " my lord the Prince." See King Rich- 
 ard the Second, page 156, note 14. ■ 
 
 34 The hostess has just called the messenger a nobleman. The Prince 
 refers to this, and at the same time plays upon the words royal man. Royal 
 and noble were names of coin, the one being ioj., the other 6s. 8d. If, then, 
 the messenger were already a noble man, give him 3J. <\d., and it would make 
 him a royal man. Hearne relates how " Mr. John Blower, in a sermon 
 before her Majesty, first said, ' My royal queen,' and a little after, ' My noble 
 queen.' Upon which says the queen, ' What, am I ten groats worse than I 
 was ? ' " 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 1 I 
 
 Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to 
 make them bleed ; and then to beslubber our garments with 
 it, and swear it was the blood of true men. 35 I did that 
 I did not this seven year before ; I blush'd to hear his mon- 
 strous devices. 
 
 Prince. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen 
 years ago, and wert taken with the manner, 36 and ever since 
 thou hast blush'd extempore. Thou hadst fire 37 and sword 
 on thy side, and yet thou rann'st away : what instinct hadst 
 thou for it ? 
 
 Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors ? do you behold 
 these exhalations? 
 
 Prince. I do. 
 
 Bard. What think you they portend? 
 
 Prince. Hot livers and cold purses. 38 
 
 Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. 
 
 Prince. No, if rightly taken, halter. 39 — Here comes lean 
 Jack, here comes bare-bone. — 
 
 Re-enter Falstaff. 
 
 How now, my sweet creature of bombast ! 40 How long is't 
 ago, Jack, since thou saw'st thine own knee ? 
 
 35 We have before had " true man " repeatedly for honest man ; here 
 " true men " means brave men, — men of pluck. 
 
 36 " Taken with the manner " is an old phrase for taken in the act. 
 
 37 The Prince means the fire in Bardolph's face. 
 
 38 Hard drinking and no cash ; as drinking heats the liver and empties 
 the purse. 
 
 39 There is a quibble implied here between choler and collar. It is ob- 
 servable that the Prince deals very much in this kind of implied puns, as if 
 the Poet sought thereby to reconcile the native dignity of the man with his 
 occasional levity and playfulness. 
 
 40 Bombast is cotton. Gerard calls the cotton-plant the bombast tree. It 
 is here used for the stuffing of clothes. 
 
112 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II. 
 
 Fal. My own knee ! when I was about thy years, Hal, I 
 was not an eagle's talon in the waist ; I could have crept into 
 any alderman's thumb-ring : a plague of sighing and grief ! 
 it blows a man up like a bladder. There's villainous news 
 abroad : here was Sir John Bracy from your father ; you 
 must to the Court in the morning. That same mad fellow 
 of the North, Percy ; and he of Wales, that gave Amaimon 41 
 the bastinado, and swore the Devil his true liegeman upon 
 the cross of a Welsh hook, 42 — what a plague call you him ? 
 
 Pointz. O, Glendower. 
 
 Fal. Owen, Owen, — the same ; and his son-in-law, Mor- 
 timer ; and old Northumberland ; and that sprightly Scot of 
 Scots, Douglas, that runs o' horseback up a hill perpendic- 
 ular, — 
 
 Prince. He that rides at high speed and with his pistol 43 
 kills a sparrow flying. 
 
 Fal. You have hit it. 
 
 Prince. So did he never the sparrow. 
 
 Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him ; he will 
 not run. 
 
 Prince. Why, what a rascal art thou, then, to praise him 
 so for running ! 
 
 Fal. O' horseback, ye cuckoo ! but a-foot he will not 
 budge a foot. 
 
 Prince. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. 
 
 Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and 
 
 41 A demon, who is described as one of the four kings who rule over all 
 the demons in the world. 
 
 42 The Welsh hook was a kind of hedging-bill made with a hook at the 
 end, and a long handle like the partisan or halbert. 
 
 43 Pistols were not in use in the age of Henry IV. They are said to have 
 been much used by the Scotch in Shakespeare's time. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 113 
 
 one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps 44 more : Worcester 
 is stolen away to-night ; thy father's beard is turn'd white 
 with the news : you may buy land now as cheap as stinking 
 mackerel. But, tell me, Hal, art thou not horribly afeard? 
 thou being heir-apparent, could the world pick thee out 
 three such enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that spirit 
 Percy, and that devil Glendower? art thou not horribly 
 afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at it? 
 
 Prince. Not a whit, i'faith ; I lack some of thy instinct. 
 
 Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow when 
 thou comest to thy father : if thou love me, practise an answer. 
 
 Prince. Do thou stand for my father, and examine me 
 upon the particulars of my life. 
 
 Fal. Shall I ? content : this chair shall be my state, this 
 dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my crown. 
 
 Prince. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, 45 thy golden 
 sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown for 
 a pitiful bald crown ! 
 
 Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, 
 now shalt thou be moved. — Give me a cup of sack, to make 
 mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept ; for 
 I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses' 
 vein. 46 \_Drinks. 
 
 44 Blue-caps being of old the national head-dress of Scottish soldiers, the 
 Scotsmen themselves are here appropriately called blue-caps. 
 
 45 An old form of speech, which we should invert : " a joint-stool is taken 
 for thy state," &c. — State is often used by old writers for the official seat of 
 Majesty, the throne. — Stool was in common use for what we call a chair ; 
 and a joint-stool was a chair with a joint in it ; a folding -chair.. 
 
 46 The banter is here upon the play called " A Lamentable Tragedie 
 mixed full of pleasant Mirthe, containing the Life of Cambises, King of Per- 
 sia," by Thomas Preston, 1570. — Passion is here used, not for anger, but in 
 the classical sense of suffering, grief. 
 
114 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II 
 
 Prince. Well, here is my leg. 47 
 
 Fal. And here is my speech. — Stand aside, nobility. 
 
 Host. O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i'faith ! 
 
 Fal. Weep not, sweet Queen ; for trickling tears are vain. 
 
 Host. O, the Father, how he holds his countenance ! 
 
 Fal. For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful Queen ; 
 For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes. 
 
 Host. O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry 
 players 48 as ever I see ! 
 
 Fal. Peace, good pint-pot ; peace, good tickle-brain. 49 — 
 Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, 
 but also how thou art accompanied : for though the camo- 
 mile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, 
 the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears. That thou art 
 my son, I have partly thy mother's word, partly my own 
 opinion ; but chiefly a villainous trick of thine eye, and a 
 foolish hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me. If, 
 then, thou be son to me, here lies the point : Why, being son 
 to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall the blessed Sun of 
 heaven prove a micher, 50 and eat blackberries? a question 
 not to be ask'd. Shall the son of England prove a thief, and 
 take purses? a question to be ask'd. There is a thing, 
 Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is known to 
 
 47 Making a leg was much used to signify a bow of reverence ; an obei' 
 sance. See Richard the Second, page 66, note 8. 
 
 48 Harlotry was sometimes used adjectively as a general term of re- 
 proach ; equivalent, perhaps, to ribald. 
 
 49 Tickle-brain appears to have been a slang term for some potent kind 
 of liquor. 
 
 50 A micher here means a truant. So, in Lyly's Mother Bombie, 1594 : 
 " How like a tnicher he stands, as if he had truanted from honesty." And 
 in Akerman's Glossary of Provincial Words and Phrases : " Moocher. A 
 truant; a ' blackberry moucher,' — a boy who plays truant to pick black- 
 berries." 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 1 5 
 
 many in our land by the name of pitch : this pitch, as ancient 
 writers do report, doth defile ; so doth the company thou 
 keepest : 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. And yet there is a virtuous man 
 whom I have often noted in thy company, but I know not his 
 name. 
 
 Prince. What manner of man, an it like your Majesty? 
 
 Fal. A goodly portly man, i'faith, and a corpulent ; of a 
 cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage ; and, 
 as I think, his age some fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to 
 threescore ; and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff : 
 if that man should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me ; for, 
 Harry, I see virtue in his looks. If, then, the tree may be 
 known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, peremp- 
 torily 1 speak it, there is virtue in that Falstaff: him keep 
 with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, 
 tell me where hast thou been this month ? 
 
 Prince. Dost thou speak like a king ? Do thou stand for 
 me, and I'll play my father. 
 
 Fal. Depose me ! if thou dost it half so gravely, so ma- 
 jestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels 
 for a rabbit-sucker or a poulter's hare. 51 
 
 Prince. Well, here I am set. 
 
 Fal. And here I stand. — Judge, my masters. 
 
 Prince. Now, Harry, whence come you? 
 
 Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap. 
 
 Prince. The complaints I hear of thee are grievous. 
 
 Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false. — Nay, I'll tickle ye 
 for a young prince, i'faith. 
 
 51 A rabbit-sucker is a sucking rabbit. — A poulter is a poulterer, a breeder 
 of, or dealer in, poultry. 
 
1 1 6 THE FIRST PART OF ACT It 
 
 Prince. Swearest thou, ungracious boy ? henceforth ne'er 
 look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace : 
 there is a devil haunts thee, in the likeness of an old fat 
 man, — a tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou 
 converse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch 52 of 
 beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bom- 
 bard 53 of sack, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pud- 
 ding in his belly, 54 that reverend Vice, that gray Iniquity, 55 
 that father ruffian, that vanity in years ? Wherein is he good, 
 but to taste sack and drink it ? wherein neat and cleanly, but 
 to carve a capon and eat it? wherein cunning, 56 but in 
 craft ? wherein crafty, but in villainy ? wherein villainous, but 
 in all things ? wherein worthy, but in nothing ? 
 
 Fal. I would your Grace would take me with you : 57 
 whom means your Grace ? 
 
 Prince. That villainous abominable misleader of youth, 
 Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan. 
 
 Fal. My lord, the man I know. 
 
 Prince. I know thou dost. 
 
 62 The receptacle into which meal is bolted. 
 
 63 Bombard was generally used in the Poet's time for a large barrel ; 
 sometimes, however, for a huge leathern vessel for holding liquor, which is 
 probably its meaning here. 
 
 54 Manningtree was a place in Essex noted for its fine pastures and large 
 oxen, and for the great fairs that used to be held there, at which the old 
 plays called Moralities were performed, and eating and drinking were done 
 on a large scale. It is not unlikely that on some of these occasions oxen 
 may have been roasted whole with puddings done up in them, as is said in 
 a ballad written in 1658 : " Just so the people stare at an ox in the fair, 
 roasted whole with a pudding in's belly." 
 
 55 The Vice, sometimes also called Iniquity, was the stereotyped jester 
 and buffoon of the old Moral-plays, which were going out of use in the 
 Poet's time. See Richard the Third, page no, note 8. 
 
 56 Cunning is here used in the sense of wise or knowing. 
 
 57 That is, let me understand you. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 117 
 
 Fal. But to say I know more harm in him than in myself, 
 were to say more than I know. That he is old, — the more 
 the pity, — his white hairs do witness it. If sack and sugar 
 be a fault, God help the wicked ! if to be old and merry be 
 a sin, then many an old host that I know is damn'd : if to 
 be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be 
 loved. No, my good lord : banish Peto, banish Bardolph, 
 banish Pointz ; but, for sweet Jack FalstarT, kind Jack Fal- 
 staff, true Jack FalstarT, valiant Jack FalstarT, and therefore 
 more valiant, being, as he is, old Jack FalstarT, banish not 
 him thy Harry's company, banish not him thy Harry's com- 
 pany : banish plump Jack, and banish all the world. 
 
 Prince. I do, I will. \_A knocking heard. 
 
 {Exeunt Hostess, Francis, and Bardolph. 
 
 Re-enter Bardolph, running. 
 
 Bard. O, my lord, my lord ! the sheriff with a most mon- 
 strous watch is at the door. 
 
 Fal. Out, ye rogue ! — Play out the play : I have much 
 to say in the behalf of that FalstarT. 
 
 Re-enter the Hostess, hastily. 
 
 Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord, — 
 
 Fal. Heigh, heigh ! the Devil rides upon a fiddlestick : 58 
 what's the matter? 
 
 Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at the door : they 
 are come to search the house. Shall I let them in? 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal ? never call a true piece of gold 
 
 58 This is thought to be an allusion to the old Puritan horror of fiddles 
 for the use made of them in dancing. 
 
Il8 THE FIRST PART OF ACT n. 
 
 a counterfeit : thou art essentially mad, without seeming 
 
 so. 59 
 
 Prince. And thou a natural coward, without instinct. 
 Fal. I deny your major : 60 if you will deny the sheriff, 
 
 69 This passage has been a standing puzzle to the commentators ; and I 
 have never hitherto met with any comment that seemed to me to make any 
 fitting and intelligible sense out of it. At length, Mr. Joseph Crosby has 
 written me an explanation which I think fits the case all round, and is just 
 the thing. The meaning is, " You are essentially, really, truly a madcap, 
 and are not merely putting on the semblance or acting the part of one : it 
 is a matter of character, and not of mere imitation, with you ; and to say 
 you have but assumed the role of a make-sport for the fun and humour of 
 it, is like calling a true piece of gold a counterfeit." So that here, as in 
 divers other places, seeming has the sense of simulation or counterfeit, and 
 without the sense of beyond, besides, or over and above. In the mock play 
 that Falstaff and the Prince have just been performing, the latter seeks to 
 lay the blame of his sprees and frolics upon " that villainous, abominable 
 misleader of youth, Falstaff." Falstaff is of course unwilling that any such 
 idea or representation of himself should be carried to the King. And when 
 their game is interrupted by the report of the Sheriffs coming, Sir John 
 wants to " play out the play," and to have the Prince practise a very differ- 
 ent answer for his father ; boldly assuming the responsibility of his madcap 
 frolicsomeness, on the ground of its being a thing ingenerate in him, the 
 spontaneous outcome of his native disposition, and not a mere part taken 
 up under the leading or inspiration of Sir John. As they cannot continue 
 the play, at last Falstaff throws the upshot of what further he has to say into 
 the speech in question. — And Mr. Crosby justly gives a like explanation 
 of the Prince's speech in reply : " And thou a natural coward, without in- 
 stinct." Which means that he is a veritable, born coward ; that his cow- 
 ardice is ingenerate in him, and not, as he has alleged, the mere outcome 
 of a special instinct stirred into act in a particular exigency or towards a 
 particular person. 
 
 60 Here, again, Mr. Crosby gives me a just and fitting explanation. Fal- 
 staff has some knowledge of technical terms in logic, such as the major and 
 minor premises of a syllogism or proposition. But he here uses major in 
 the sense of proposition, putting a part for the whole. It would seem that 
 major and mayor were sounded much alike. So Falstaff makes a pun or 
 quibble between major, as a term in logic, and mayor, as the head of a civic 
 corporation, and the sheriff's official superior. So that his meaning is, " I 
 deny your statement, what you have just said or affirmed : if you will deny 
 the Sheriff, very well," &e. 
 
SCENE iv. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. I ig 
 
 so ; if not, let him enter : if I become not a cart as well as 
 another man, a plague on my bringing up ! I hope I shall 
 as soon be strangled with a halter as another. 
 
 Prince. Go, hide thee behind the arras : 61 — the rest walk 
 up above. Now, my masters, for a true face and a good 
 conscience. 
 
 Pal. Both which I have had ; but their date is out, and 
 therefore I'll hide me. 
 
 Prince. Call in the sheriff. — 
 
 \_Exeunt all but the Prince and Pointz. 
 
 Enter Sheriff and Carrier. 
 
 Now, master sheriff, what's your will with me ? 
 
 Sher. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue-and-cry 
 Hath follow'd certain men unto this house. 
 
 Prince. What men ? 
 
 Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious lord, — 
 A gross fat man. 
 
 Car. As fat as butter. 
 
 Prince. The man, I do assure you, is not here ; 
 For I myself at this time have employ 'd him. 62 
 
 61 Tapestry was fixed on frames of wood at such distance from the wall 
 as to keep it from being rotted by the dampness ; large spaces were thus 
 left between the arras and the walls, sufficient to contain even one of Fal- 
 staft's bulk. The old dramatists avail themselves of this convenient hiding- 
 place upon all occasions. 
 
 62 Shakespeare has been blamed for putting this falsehood into the 
 Prince's mouth. The blame, whatever it be, should rather light on the 
 Prince ; and even he is rather to be blamed for what he has all along been 
 doing, than for what he now says. To have betrayed Falstaff, after what 
 has passed between them, would have been something worse than telling a 
 falsehood ; more wicked even, let alone the meanness of it. The Poet did 
 not mean to represent the Prince as altogether unhurt by his connection 
 with Sir John ; and if he had done so, he would have been false to nature. 
 
120 THE FIRST PART OF ACT II 
 
 And, sheriff, I'll engage my word to thee, 
 That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time, 
 Send him to answer thee, or any man, 
 For any thing he shall be charged withal : 
 And so, let me entreat you leave the house. 
 
 Sher. I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen 
 Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks. 
 
 Prince. It may be so : if he have robb'd these men, 
 He shall be answerable ; and so, farewell. 
 
 Sher. Good night, my noble lord. 
 
 Prince. I think it is good morrow, is it not ? 
 
 Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think't be two o'clock. 
 
 \_Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier. 
 
 Prince. This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's. 63 Go> 
 call him forth. 
 
 Pointz. Falstaff! — fast asleep behind the arras, and snort- 
 ing like a horse. 
 
 Prince. Hark, how hard he fetches breath. Search his 
 pockets. [Pointz searches .] What hast thou found ? 
 
 Pointz. Nothing but papers, my lord. 
 
 Prince. Let's see what they be : read them. 
 
 Pointz. [Reads.] 
 
 Item, A capon, . . . . 2S. 2d. 
 
 Item, Sauce, ..... ^d. 
 
 Item, Sack, tivo gallons, . . . $s. 8d. 
 
 Item, Anchovies and sack after supper, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Item, Bread, ..... o&. 64 
 
 63 St. Paul's Cathedral is the object meant ; then the most conspicuous 
 structure in London, its spire being five hundred feet high. 
 
 64 Ob. is for obolutn, which was the common mode of signifying a half- 
 penny. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 121 
 
 Prince. monstrous ! but one half-pennyworth of bread 
 to this intolerable deal of sack ! What there is else, keep 
 close ; we'll read it at more advantage : there let him sleep 
 till day. I'll to the Court in the morning. We must all to 
 the wars, and thy place shall be honourable. I'll procure 
 this fat rogue a charge of foot ; and I know his death will be 
 a march of twelve-score. 65 The money shall be paid back 
 again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning ; 
 and so, good morrow, Pointz. 
 
 Pointz. Good morrow, good my lord. \Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Bangor. A Room in the Archdeacon 's House. 
 Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Mortimer, and Glendower. 
 
 Mort. These promises are fair, the parties sure, 
 And our induction 1 full of prosperous hope. 
 
 Hot. Lord Mortimer, — and cousin Glendower, — will you 
 sit down? — and uncle Worcester, — a plague upon it! I 
 have forgot the map. 
 
 Glend. No, here it is. 
 Sit, cousin Percy ; sit, good cousin Hotspur ; 
 For by that name as oft as Lancaster 
 Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale, and with 
 A rising sigh he wisheth you in Heaven. 
 
 65 Meaning that a march of twelve-score yards will be his death. 
 1 Induction is used by Shakespeare for commencement, beginning. The 
 introductory part of a play or poem was called the induction. 
 
122 THE FIRST PART OF ACT in 
 
 Hot. And you in Hell, as oft as he hears Owen Glendowei 
 spoke of. 
 
 Glend. I cannot blame him : at my nativity 
 The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, 
 Of burning cressets ; 2 ay, and at my birth 
 The frame and huge foundation of the Earth 
 Shaked like a coward. 
 
 Hot. Why, so it would have done at the same season, if 
 your mother's cat had but kitten'd, though yourself had never 
 been born. 
 
 Glend. I say the Earth did shake when I was born. 
 
 Hot. And I say the Earth was not of my mind, if you sup- 
 pose as fearing you it shook. 
 
 Glend. The Heavens were all on fire, the Earth did tremble. 
 
 Hot. O, then th' Earth shook to see the Heavens on fire, 
 And not in fear of your nativity. 
 Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth 
 In strange eruptions ; oft the teeming Earth 
 Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd 
 By the imprisoning of unruly wind 
 Within her womb ; which, for enlargement striving, 
 Shakes the old beldam Earth, and topples down 
 Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth, 
 Our grandam Earth, having this distemperature, 
 In passion shook. 
 
 Glend. Cousin, of many men 
 
 I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave 
 To tell you once again, that at my birth 
 The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes ; 
 
 2 Cressets were lights used as beacons, and sometimes as torches to light 
 processions; so named from the French, croissette, because the fire was 
 placed on a little cross. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 123 
 
 The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds 
 
 Were strangely clamorous in the frighted fields. 
 
 These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; 
 
 And all the courses of my life do show 
 
 I am not in the roll of common men. 
 
 Where is he living, — clipp'd in with the sea 
 
 That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales, — 
 
 Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me ? 
 
 And bring him out that is but woman's son 
 
 Can trace me in the tedious ways of art, 
 
 And hold me pace in deep experiments. 
 
 Hot. I think there is no man speaks better Welsh. — I'll 
 to dinner. 
 
 Mort. Peace, cousin Percy j you will make him mad. 
 
 Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep. 
 
 Hot. Why, so can I, or so can any man ; 
 But will they come when you do call for them ? 
 
 Glend. Why, I can teach thee, cousin, to command 
 The Devil. 
 
 Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the Devil 
 By telling truth : tell truth, and shame the Devil. 
 If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, 
 And I'll be sworn I've power to shame him hence. 
 O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the Devil ! 
 
 Mort. Come, come, 
 No more of this unprofitable chat. 
 
 Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head 
 Against my power ; thrice from the banks of Wye 
 And sandy-bottom'd Severn have I sent 
 Him bootless home and weather-beaten back. 
 
 Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather too ! 
 How 'scaped he agues, in the Devil's name ! 
 
124 THE FIRST PART OF ACT III. 
 
 Gknd. Come, here's the map : shall we divide our right 
 According to our threefold order ta'en? 
 
 Mort Th' archdeacon hath divided it 
 Into three limits very equally. 
 England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, 3 
 By south and east is to my part assign'd : 
 All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore, 
 And all the fertile land within that bound, 
 To Owen Glendower : — and, dear coz, to you 
 The remnant northward, lying off from Trent. 
 And our indentures tripartite 4 are drawn ; 
 Which being sealed interchangeably, — 
 A business that this night may execute, — 
 To-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I, 
 And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth 
 To meet your father and the Scottish power, 
 As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury. 
 My father Glendower is not ready yet, 
 Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days : — 
 \To Glend.] Within that space you may have drawn to- 
 gether 
 Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen. 
 
 Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords : 
 And in my conduct shall your ladies come ; 
 From whom you now must steal, and take no leave, 
 Or there will be a world of water shed 
 Upon the parting of your wives and you. 
 
 3 Hitherto was an adverb of place as well as of time. 
 
 4 Indentures are covenants or compacts ; here called tripartite because 
 there are three parties to them. Ordinarily they are between two parties, 
 and then are drawn in duplicate. These were to be signed and sealed in- 
 terchangeably, that each of the three parties might have a copy. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 125 
 
 Hot. Methinks my moiety, 5 north from Burton here, 
 In quantity equals not one of yours : 
 See how this river comes me cranking in, 6 
 And cuts me from the best of all my land 
 A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle 7 out. 
 I'll have the current in this place damn'd up ; 
 And here the smug and silver Trent shall run 
 In a new channel, fair and evenly : 
 It shall not wind with such a deep indent, 
 To rob me of so rich a bottom 8 here. 
 
 Glend. Not wind ? it shall, it must ; you see it doth. 
 
 Mort. Yea, but 
 Mark how he bears his course, and runs me up 
 With like advantage on the other side ; 
 Gelding th' opposed continent 9 as much 
 As on the other side it takes from you. 
 
 Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench him here, 
 And on this north side win this cape of land ; 
 And then he runneth straight and evenly. 
 
 Hot. I'll have it so : a little charge will do it. 
 
 Glend. I will not have it alter'd. 
 
 Hot. Will not you ? 
 
 Glend. No, nor you shall not. 
 
 Hot. Who shall say me nay? 
 
 Glend. Why, that will I. 
 
 5 A moiety was often used by the writers of Shakespeare's age as a portion 
 of any thing, though not divided into equal parts. 
 
 6 To crank is to crook, to turn in and out. 
 
 7 A cantle is a portion, a corner or fragment of any thing. 
 
 8 Bottom is used of a low and level piece of land, such as the interval of 
 a river. 
 
 9 Continent was used in a general sense for that which holds in or con* 
 tains any thing; hence for the banks of a river. 
 
126 THE FIRST PART OF ACT III. 
 
 Hot. Let me not understand you, then ; 
 
 Speak it in Welsh. 
 
 Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you ; 
 For I was train'd up in the English Court ; 
 Where, being but young, I framed to the harp 
 Many an English ditty lovely well, 
 And gave the tongue a helpful ornament, 
 A virtue that was never seen in you. 
 
 Hot. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart : 
 I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew, 
 Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers ; 
 I had rather hear a brazen canstick 10 turn'd, 
 Or a dry wheel grate on the axletree ; 
 And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, 
 Nothing so much as mincing poetry : 
 Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag. 
 
 Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd. 
 
 Hot. I do not care : I'll give thrice so much land 
 To any well- deserving friend ; 
 But in the way of bargain, mark ye me, 
 I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. 
 Are the indentures drawn ? shall we be gone ? 
 
 Glend. The Moon shines fair ; you may away by night : 
 I'll in and haste the writer, 11 and withal 
 Break with 12 your wives of your departure hence : 
 I am afraid my daughter will run mad, 
 So much she doteth on her Mortimer. {Exit 
 
 Mort. Fie, cousin Percy ! how you cross my father ! 
 
 Hot. I cannot choose : sometime he angers me 
 
 10 Canstick was a common contraction of candlestick. 
 
 11 The writer of the indentures already mentioned. 
 
 12 Break with is old language for breaking or opening a subject to. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 127 
 
 With telling me of the moldwarp 13 and the ant, 
 Of the dreamer Merlin 14 and his prophecies, 
 And of a dragon and a finless fish, 
 A clip-wing'd griffin and a moulten 15 raven, 
 A couching lion and a ramping cat, 
 And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff 
 As puts me from my faith. I tell you what, 
 He held me last night at the least nine hours 
 In reckoning up the several devils' names 
 That were his lacqueys : I cried hum, and well, 
 But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious 
 As is a tired horse, a railing wife ; 
 Worse than a smoky house : I had rather live 
 With cheese and garlic in a windmill, 16 far, 
 Than feed on cates and have him talk to me 
 In any summer-house in Christendom. 
 
 Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman ; 
 Exceedingly well-read, and profited 
 In strange concealments ; 17 valiant as a lion, 
 And wondrous affable, and as bountiful 
 As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin ? 
 
 13 The moldwarp is the mole ; so called because it warps the surface of 
 the ground into ridges. 
 
 14 Merlin was a " great magician," whose " deep science and hell-dreaded 
 might " was much celebrated in the ancient mythology of Wales. Some of 
 his wonderful doings, especially his magic mirror, are choicely sung in Spen- 
 ser's Faerie Queene, iii. 2. 
 
 15 To moult is used for birds shedding their feathers. Moulten for 
 moulting. — Griffin, a fabulous animal, half lion, half eagle. 
 
 16 Windmills were of old used in England for grinding corn, and of 
 course were perched above the houses in which the grinding was done. 
 Such a house would not be a very quiet place of residence. — Cates, in the 
 next line, is dainties or delicacies. 
 
 17 Skilled in wonderful secrets. 
 
128 THE FIRST PART OF ACT UL 
 
 He holds your temper in a high respect, 
 And curbs himself even of his natural scope 
 When you do cross his humour ; faith, he does : 
 I warrant you, that man is not alive 
 Might so have tempted him as you have done, 
 Without the taste of danger and reproof : 
 But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. 
 
 Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blunt ; 18 
 And since your coming hither have done enough 
 To put him quite beside his patience. 
 You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault : 
 Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood, — 
 And that's the dearest grace it renders you, — 
 Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, 
 Defect of manners, want of government, 
 Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain ; 
 The least of which haunting a nobleman 
 Loseth men's hearts, and leaves behind a stain 
 Upon the beauty of all parts besides, 
 Beguiling them of commendation. 
 
 Hot. Well, I am school'd : good manners be your speed ! 
 Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. 
 
 Re-enter Glendower, with Lady Mortimer and Lady Percy 
 
 Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers me, 
 My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. 
 
 Glend. My daughter weeps : she will not part with you ; 
 She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. 
 
 Mort. Good father, tell her she and my aunt Percy 19 
 
 18 The Poet has a similar expression in King "John, v. 2 : " The Dauphin 
 is too wilful-opposite : he flatly says he'll not lay down his arms." 
 
 19 It has already been seen that Hotspur's wife was sister to Sir Edmund 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. I 20, 
 
 Shall follow in your conduct speedily. 
 
 [Glendower speaks to Lady Mortimer in Welsh, 
 and she answers him in the same. 
 Glend. She's desperate here ; a peevish self-will'd har- 
 lotry, 20 
 One no persuasion can do good upon. 
 
 [Lady Mortimer speaks to Mortimer in Welsh. 
 Mort. I understand thy looks : that pretty Welsh 
 Which thou pour'st down from those two swelling heavens 21 
 I am too perfect in ; and, but for shame, 
 In such a parley should I answer th.ee. 
 
 \Lady Mortimer speaks to him again in Welsh. 
 I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, 
 And that's a feeling disputation : 
 But I will never be a truant, love, 
 Till I have learn'd thy language ; for thy tongue 
 Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, 
 Sung by a fair queen in a Summer's bower, 
 With ravishing division, 22 to her lute. 
 
 Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run 'quite mad. 
 \Lady Mortimer speaks to Mortimer again in Welsh. 
 
 Mortimer, and aunt to the young Earl of March. And she has been spoken 
 of in the play as Mortimer's sister, yet he here calls her his aunt. From 
 which it appears that Shakespeare not only mistook Sir Edmund for the 
 Earl of March, or rather followed an authority who had so mistaken him, 
 but sometimes confounded the two. 
 
 20 The more common meaning of peevish was foolish., and so, probably, 
 here. — It appears that harlotry was used somewhat as a general term cf 
 reproach, without implying any such sense as we attach to harlot. So, in 
 Romeo and Juliet, iv. 2, Capulet uses it of his daughter : " A peevish self- 
 will'd harlotry it is." 
 
 21 " Those two swelling heavens " are the lady's cerulean eyes, to be sure ; 
 and swelling, as eyes are wont to do when preparing a shower. 
 
 22 Division appears to have been used for what we call accompaniment. 
 Some explain it variations. An accompaniment with variations, perhaps. 
 
I30 THE FIRST PART OF ACT III. 
 
 Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this ! 
 
 Glend. She bids you on the wanton rushes 23 lay you down, 
 And rest your gentle head upon her lap, 
 And she will sing the song that pleaseth you, 
 And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep, 
 Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness ; 
 Making such difference betwixt wake and sleep, 
 As is the difference betwixt day and night, 
 The hour before the heavenly-harness 'd team 
 Begins his golden progress in the East. 
 
 Mort. With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing : 
 By that time will our book, 24 I think, be drawn. 
 
 Glend. Do so : 
 An those musicians that shall play to you 
 Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence, 
 Yet straight they shall be here : sit, and attend. 
 
 Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down : come, 
 quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap. 
 
 Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose. \T1ie music plays. 
 
 Hot. Now I perceive the Devil understands Welsh ; 
 And 'tis no marvel he's so humorous. 25 
 By'r Lady, he's a good musician. 
 
 Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical ; for 
 
 23 English noblemen, even down to Shakespeare's time, had their floors 
 carpeted with rushes ; and it would seem that even this was thought luxuri- 
 ous enough to be termed wanton. 
 
 24 It was usual to call any manuscript of bulk a book in ancient times, 
 such as patents, grants, articles, covenants, &c. 
 
 25 It is rather difficult to keep up with the use of humorous and its cog- 
 nates in the Poet's time. It was much applied to freaky, skittish persons, 
 men addicted to sudden gusts and flaws. Perhaps our word crotchety comes 
 as near to it as any now in use. See The Merchant, page 162, note 12 ; 
 also As You Like It, page 46, note 26. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 3 I 
 
 you are altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, 
 and hear the lady sing in Welsh. 
 
 Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, 26 howl in Irish. 
 
 Lady P. Wouldst thou have thy head broken ? 
 
 Hot. No. 
 
 Lady P. Then be still. 
 
 Hot. Neither ; 'tis a woman's fault. 27 
 
 Lady P. Now God help thee ! 
 
 Hot. Peace ! she sings. \_A Welsh song by Lady Mort. 
 Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. 
 
 Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth. 
 
 Hot. Not yours, in good sooth ! 'Heart, you swear like 
 a comfit-maker's 28 wife ! Not mine, in good sooth ; and, As 
 true as I live ; and, As God shall mend me ; and, As sure 
 as day ; 
 
 And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, 
 As if thou ne'er walk'dst further than Finsbury. 29 
 Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, 
 A good mouth-filling oath ; and leave in sooth, 
 And such protest of pepper-gingerbread, 
 To velvet-guards and Sunday-citizens. 30 
 
 26 Brack was a common term for a fine-nosed hound. It appears that 
 Lady was the name of Hotspur's musical howler. 
 
 27 It is not quite clear what may be the woman's fault intended. If the 
 context be taken strictly, it must be an unwillingness either to have the head 
 broken or to hold the tongue. Or it may be that a woman will neither talk 
 reason nor be still when others talk it. But probably it is a sort of disguised 
 or ironical compliment ; that he cannot be still while he has his wife to talk 
 to, or cannot listen to the singing while she keeps him talking. 
 
 28 A comfit-maker is a maker of confectionery ; that is, sugar-candies. 
 
 29 Finsbury, now a part of the city, but formerly open walks and fields, 
 was a common resort of the citizens for airing and recreation. 
 
 30 Velvet-guards, or trimmings of velvet, were the city fashion in Shake- 
 speare's time ; here regarded as marks of softness or finical ness. — Sunday- 
 
132 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IIL 
 
 Come, sing. 
 
 Lady P. I will not sing. 
 
 Hot. Tis the next way to turn tailor, 31 or be redbreast- 
 teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these 
 two hours ; and so, come in when ye will. \_Exit. 
 
 Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer ; you are as slow 
 As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go. 
 By this our book's drawn ; we'll but seal, and then 
 To horse immediately. 
 
 Mort With all my heart. \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — London. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, and Lords. 
 
 King. Lords, give us leave ; the Prince of Wales and I 
 Must have some private conference : but be near at hand, 
 For we shall presently have need of you. — \_Exeunt Lords. 
 I know not whether God will have it so, 
 For some displeasing service I have done, 
 That, in His secret doom, out of my blood l 
 He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me ; 
 But thou dost, in thy passages of life, 
 Make me believe that thou art only mark'd' 
 For the hot vengeance and the rod of Heaven 
 
 citizens are people in their Sunday-clothes or holiday finery. — Pepper- 
 gingerbread is gingerbread spiced, or, perhaps, finely-seasoned sweet-cake. 
 
 31 Tailors, like weavers, have ever been remarkable for their vocal skill. 
 Percy is jocular in his mode of persuading his wife to sing. The meaning 
 is, " to sing is to put yourself upon a level with tailors and teachers of birds." 
 — " The next way " is the nearest way. 
 
 1 Blood, as often, for person ; that is, his person as represented in his 
 progeny or offspring. The King is thinking of the wrong he has done to 
 his own kindred, or family blood, in the person of Richard. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 133 
 
 To punish my mistreadings. 2 Tell me else, 
 
 Could such inordinate and low desires, 
 
 Such poor, such base, such lewd, such mean attempts, 3 
 
 Such barren pleasures, rude society, 
 
 As thou art match'd withal and grafted to, 
 
 Accompany the greatness of thy blood, 
 
 And hold their level with thy princely heart ? 
 
 Prince. So please your Majesty, I would I could 
 Quit all offences with as clear excuse 
 As well as I am doubtless 4 I can purge 
 Myself of many I am charged withal : 
 Yet such extenuation let me beg, 
 As, in reproof of many tales devised 
 By smiling pick-thanks and base news-mongers, 5 — 
 Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, — 
 I may, for some things true, wherein my youth 
 Hath faulty wander' d and irregular, 
 Find pardon on my true submission. 6 
 
 2 Mistreadings, of course, for misdoings or transgressions. The speaker's 
 conscience is ill at ease ; and his sense of guilt in the discrowning of his 
 cousin and the usurping of his seat arms his son's irregularities with the 
 stings of a providential retribution. 
 
 3 Lewd in its old sense of wicked or depraved. Repeatedly so. Attempts: 
 fox pursuits or courses. 
 
 4 As the Poet often uses doubt in the sense of fear, so here he has doubt- 
 less for fearless, that is, confident, or sure. So, once more, in King John, iv. 
 I : " Sleep doubtless and secure." — Here, as often, quit is acquit, with myself 
 understood after it, just as purge. As well is simply redundant, save in 
 point of metre. 
 
 5 News-mongers are tattlers or tale-bearers ; sycophants, in the proper 
 classical sense of the term ; that is, those who curry favour by framing or 
 propagating scandalous reports. — Reproof, again, for disproof See page 
 68, note 33. 
 
 o The construction of this passage is somewhat obscure : " Let me beg so 
 much extenuation that, upon confutation of many false charges, I may be par* 
 doned some that are true'' 
 
134 THE FIRST FART OF ACT IIL 
 
 King, God pardon thee ! Yet iet me wonder, Harry, 
 At thy affections, which do hold a wing 
 Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. 
 Thy place in Council thou hast rudely lost, 7 
 Which by thy younger brother is supplied ; 
 And art almost an alien to the hearts 
 Of all the Court and princes of my blood : 
 The hope and expectation of thy time 
 Is ruin'd ; and the soul of every man 
 Prophetically does forethink thy fall. 
 Had I so lavish of my presence been, 
 So common-hackney 'd in the eyes of men, 
 So stale and cheap to vulgar company, 
 Opinion, 8 that did help me to the crown, 
 Had still kept loyal to possession, 
 And left me in reputeless banishment, 
 A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. 
 By being seldom seen, I could not stir 
 But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at ; 
 That men would tell their children, This is he ; 
 Others would say, Where, which is Bolingbroke ? 
 And then I stole all courtesy from Heaven, 9 
 
 7 The Poet here anticipates an event that took place several years later. 
 Holinshed, having just spoken of the Prince's assault on the Chief Justice, 
 adds, " The king after expelled him out of his privie councell, banisht him 
 the court, and made the duke of Clarence, his yoonger brother, president 
 of councell in his steed." 
 
 8 Opinion here stands for public sentiment. The Poet has it repeatedly 
 in the kindred sense of reputation. — Possession, in the next line, is put for 
 the person in possession ; that is, of the throne. 
 
 9 This innocent passage has drawn forth some very odd quirks of expla- 
 nation, or obscuration rather. Of course it means " I put all the gracious- 
 ness and benignity of the heavens into my manners and address " ; some 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 35 
 
 And dress'd myself in such humility, 
 That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, 
 Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, 10 
 Even in the presence of the crowned King. 
 Thus did I keep my person fresh and new ; 
 My presence, like a robe pontifical, 
 Ne'er seen but wonder 'd at : and so my state, 
 Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast, 
 And won by rareness such solemnity. 11 , 
 The skipping King, he ambled up and down 
 With shallow jesters and rash bavin 12 wits, 
 Soon kindled and soon burnt ; carded 13 his state, 
 Mingled his royalty, with capering fools ; 14 
 Had his great name profaned with their scorns ; 
 And gave his countenance, against his name, 
 To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push 
 
 what as in Wordsworth's well-known line, " The gentleness of heaven is on 
 the sea." 
 
 10 Meaning, caused both men's hearts to beat high with allegiant emotions 
 towards himself, and their mouths to overflow with loud salutations. The 
 Poet is very fond of the word pluck in the sense of draw, pull, or rouse. 
 
 11 That is, such solemnity as belongs to a feast. Solemnity was often used 
 of feasts of state ; much in the sense of dignity. Macbeth invites Banquo to 
 " a solemn supper," when he means to have him murdered. 
 
 12 Bavins are brush-wood, or small fagots used for lighting fires. So in 
 Lyly's Mother Bombie, 1594 : "Bavins will have their flashes, and youth their 
 fancies, the one as soon quenched as the other burnt." 
 
 13 This word has been explained in divers ways. The most probable 
 meaning is shown in Bacon's Natural History : " It is an excellent drink for 
 a consumption, to be drunk either alone, or carded with some other beer." 
 Likewise in Greene's Quip for an Upstart Courtier : " You card your beer 
 (if you see your guests begin to get drunk) half small, half strong." So 
 that " carded his state " probably means the same as " mingled his royalty " ; 
 the latter being explanatory of the former. 
 
 14 Alluding, no doubt, to the dancing, fashion-mongering sprigs that 
 Richard the Second drew about him. 
 
1 36 THE FIRST PART OF ACT III, 
 
 Of every beardless vain comparative ; 15 
 
 Grew a companion to the common streets, 
 
 Enfeoff' d himself to popularity ; 16 
 
 That, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, 
 
 They surfeited with honey, and began 
 
 To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little 
 
 More than a little is by much too much. 
 
 So, when he had occasion to be seen, 
 
 He was but as the xuckoo is in June, 
 
 Heard, not regarded ; seen, but with such eyes 
 
 As, sick and blunted with community, 17 
 
 Afford no extraordinary gaze, 
 
 Such as is bent on sun-like majesty 
 
 When it shines seldom in admiring eyes ; 
 
 But rather drowsed, and hung their eyelids down, 
 
 Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect 
 
 As cloudy men use to their adversaries, 
 
 Being with his presence glutted, gorged, and full. 
 
 And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou ; 
 
 For thou hast lost thy princely privilege 
 
 With vile participation : 18 not an eye 
 
 But is a-weary of thy common sight, 
 
 Save mine, which hath desired to see thee more ; 
 
 Which now doth that I would not have it do, 
 
 Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. 
 
 Prince. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord, 
 
 15 That is, every beardless, vain young fellow who affected wit, or was a 
 dealer in comparisons. See page 63, note 20. 
 
 16 Gave himself up, absolutely and entirely, to popularity. To enfeoff'^, a 
 law term, signifying to give or grant any thing to another in fee-simple. 
 Popularity here means vulgar intercourse, or promiscuousness. 
 
 17 Community for commonness, or cheap familiarity. 
 
 18 Vile participation for low, vulgar companionship. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 37 
 
 Be more myself. 
 
 King. For all the world, 
 
 As thou art to this hour, was Richard then 
 When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg j 
 And even as I was then is Percy now. 
 Now, by my sceptre, and my soul to boot, 
 He hath more worthy interest to the state 19 
 Than thou, the shadow of succession ; 
 For, of no right, nor colour like to right, 
 He doth fill fields with harness in the realm ; 
 Turns head against the lion's armed jaws ; 
 And, being no more in debt to years than thou, 20 
 Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on 
 To bloody battles and to bruising arms. 
 What never-dying honour hath he got 
 Against renowned Douglas ! whose high deeds, 
 Whose hot incursions, and great name in arms, 
 Holds from all soldiers chief majority 
 And military title capital 21 
 
 Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ : 
 Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathing- clothes, 
 This infant warrior, in his enterprises 
 Discomfited great Douglas : ta'en him once, 
 
 19 We should now write in the state, but such was the usage of the Poet's 
 time. So in The Winter's Tale, iv. i : "He is less frequent to his princely 
 exercises than formerly." — State for throne, as often. 
 
 20 The Poet with great dramatic propriety approximates the ages of the 
 Prince and Hotspur, for the better kindling of a noble emulation between 
 them. So that we need not suppose him ignorant that Hotspur was about 
 twenty years the older. — Harness, two lines before, is armour. So in Mac- 
 beth, v. 5 : " At least we'll die with harness on our back." 
 
 21 Majority for pre-eminence or priority ; and capital for principal; the 
 head man of the age in soldiership. 
 
I38 THE FIRST PART OF 
 
 ACT IIL 
 
 Enlarged him, and made a friend of him, 
 
 To fill the mouth of deep defiance up, 
 
 And shake the peace and safety of our throne. 
 
 And what say you to this ? Percy, Northumberland, 
 
 Th' Archbishop's Grace of York, Douglas, and Mortimer 
 
 Capitulate 22 against us, and are up. 
 
 But wherefore do I tell these news to thee ? 
 
 Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, 
 
 Which art my near'st and dearest enemy? 23 
 
 Thou that art like enough, — through vassal fear, 
 
 Base inclination, and the start of spleen, — 
 
 To fight against me under Percy's pay, 
 
 To dog his heels, and curtsy at his frowns, 
 
 To show how much thou art degenerate. 
 
 Prince. Do not think so ; you shall not find it so : 
 And God forgive them that so much have sway'd 
 Your Majesty's good thoughts away from me ! 
 I will redeem all this on Percy's head, 
 And, in the closing of some glorious day, 
 Be bold to tell you that I am your son ; 
 When I will wear a garment all of blood, 
 And stain my favour 24 in a bloody mask, 
 Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it : 
 And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, 
 That this same child of honour and renown, 
 This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 
 And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet. 
 
 22 To capitulate formerly signified to make articles of agreement. 
 
 23 So in Hamlet, i. 2 : " Would I had met my dearest foe in Heaven or 
 ever I had seen that day, Horatio." For this use of dear see Twelfth 
 Night, page 125, note 6. 
 
 24 The word mask ascertains favour to mean face here. 
 
SCENE ii. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 139 
 
 For every honour sitting on his helm, 
 
 Would they were multitudes, and on my head 
 
 My shames redoubled ! for the time will come, 
 
 That I shall make this northern youth exchange 
 
 His glorious deeds for my indignities. 
 
 Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 
 
 T engross up glorious deeds 25 on my behalf; 
 
 And I will call him to so strict account, 
 
 That he shall render every glory up, 
 
 Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, 
 
 Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. 
 
 This, in the name of God, I promise here : 
 
 The which if I perform, and do survive, 
 
 I do beseech your Majesty, may salve 
 
 The long-grown wounds of my intemperance : 
 
 If not, the end of life cancels all bands; 26 
 
 And I will die a hundred thousand deaths 
 
 Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. 
 
 King. A hundred thousand rebels die in this. 
 Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein. — 
 
 Enter Sir Walter Blunt. 
 
 How now, good Blunt ! thy looks are full of speed. 
 
 Blunt. So is the business that I come to speak of. 
 Lord Mortimer of Scotland 27 hath sent word 
 That Douglas and the English rebels met 
 Th' eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury : 
 
 25 As capitalists or speculators sometimes send out factors ; that is, agents^ 
 to buy up and monopolize wool, grain, or other products. 
 
 26 Bands and bonds were used indifferently for obligations. — Intemper- 
 ance in the classical sense of lacking self-restraint or self-government. 
 
 27 There was no such person as Lord Mortimer of Scotland; but there 
 was a Scottish Earl of March and an English Earl of March, and this same 
 
I4O THE FIRST PART OF ACT III. 
 
 A mighty and a fearful head they are, 
 If promises be kept on every hand, 
 As ever offer'd foul play in a State. 
 
 King. The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day ; 
 With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster ; 
 For this advertisement 28 is five days old. 
 On Wednesday next you, Harry, shall set forward ; 
 On Thursday we ourselves will march : 
 Our meeting is Bridgenorth : and, Harry, you 
 Shall march through Glostershire ; by which account, 
 Our business valued, 29 some twelve days hence 
 Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet. 
 Our hands are full of business : let's away ; 
 Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Eastcheap. A Room in the Boar's-Head 
 
 Tavern. 
 
 Enter Falstaff mid Bardolph. 
 
 Eal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last 
 action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why, my skin 
 hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown ; I am withered 
 like an old apple-john. 1 Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, 
 
 ness of title probably led the Poet into a confusion of the names. The Scot- 
 tish Earl of March was George Dunbar, who attached himself so warmly to 
 the English that the Parliament petitioned the King to bestow some reward 
 on him. He fought on the side of King Henry in this rebellion. See page 
 93, note 1. 
 
 28 Advertisement is intelligence, or information. 
 
 29 That is, an estimate being made of the business to be done. 
 
 1 The apple-john was by no means the same as the apple-jack of later 
 times, though the two may be some kin. The former was a variety of the 
 apple, which is said to have kept two years. Thus described by Phillips : 
 "John-apple, whose wither'd rind, entrench'd by many a furrow, aptly rep- 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. I4I 
 
 while I am in some liking ; 2 I shall be out of heart shortly, 
 and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not 
 forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a 
 peppercorn, a brewer's horse : 3 the inside of a church ! 
 Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me. 
 
 Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long. 
 
 Fal. Why, there is it : come, sing me a song ; make 
 me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gentleman need 
 to be ; virtuous enough ; swore little ; diced not above seven 
 times a week ; paid money that I borrowed — three or four 
 times ; lived well, and in good compass : and now I live 
 out of all order, out of all compass. 
 
 Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be 
 out of all compass, — out of all reasonable compass, Sir John. 
 
 Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life : 
 thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop, 4 
 — but 'tis in the nose of thee ; thou art the Knight of the 
 Burning Lamp. 
 
 resents decrepid age." And, in The Second Part, one of the persons, speak- 
 ing of Falstaff, says, " The Prince once set a dish of apple-johns before him, 
 and told him there were five more Sir Johns ; and, putting off his hat, said, 
 I will now take my leave of these six dry, round, old, wither'd knights." 
 
 2 The sense of liking is about the same as our phrase good keeping. 
 Thus in the Prayer-Book, Psalm xcii. : " Such as are planted in the House 
 of the Lord shall bring forth more fruit in their age, and shall be fat and 
 well-liking." The English Psalter is much older than the version of 161 1, 
 which renders the same passage " fat and. flourishing." 
 
 3 That Falstaff was unlike a brewer's horse may be gathered from a 
 conundrum in The Devil's Cabinet Opened : " What is the difference between 
 a drunkard and a brewer's horse f — Because one carries all his liquor on 
 his back, and the other in his belly." 
 
 4 Admiral is, properly, the leading ship in a fleet or naval squadron ; 
 hence transferred, as a title, to the head of a fleet. Of course the admiral 
 was to go foremost, and in the night to bear a lantern conspicuous in the 
 stern, ox poop, that those in the rear might keep in her track. 
 
142 THE FIRST PART OF ACT III. 
 
 Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. 
 
 Fal. No, I'll be sworn ; I make as good use of it as many 
 a man doth of a death's-head or a memento mori : I never 
 see thy face but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that lived 
 in purple ; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If 
 thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face ; 
 my oath should be, By this fire, thafs God's angel: 5 but 
 thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for 
 the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou 
 rann'st up Gad's-hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did 
 not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus or a ball of wild- 
 fire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual 
 triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light ! Thou hast saved me 
 a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in 
 the night betwixt tavern and tavern : 6 but the sack that thou 
 hast drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap 7 
 at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintain'd that 
 salamander of yours with fire any time this two-and-thirty 
 years ; God reward me for it ! 
 
 Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your stomach ! 
 
 Fal. God-a-mercy ! so should I be sure to be heart- 
 burn'd. — Rnter fhe Hostess 
 
 How now, Dame Partlet the hen ! 8 have you inquired yet 
 who pick'd my pocket? 
 
 5 Alluding, probably, to Exodus, iii. 2 : " And the angel of the Lord ap- 
 peared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush ; " &c. 
 
 6 Candles and lanterns to let were then cried about London, the streets 
 not being then lighted. 
 
 7 Cheap is the past participle of cypan, Sax., to traffic, to bargain, to buy 
 and sell. Good cheap was therefore a good bargain. Our ancestors used 
 good cheap and better cheap as we now use cheap and cheaper. 
 
 8 God-a-mercy is an old colloquialism for God have mercy. — Heart-burn 
 is an old name for the gastric pains caused by indigestion or acid fermenta- 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. I43 
 
 Host. Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do 
 you think I keep thieves in my house ? I have search'd, I 
 have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, 
 servant by servant : the tithe 9 of a hair was never lost in my 
 house before. 
 
 Fal. Ye lie, hostess : Bardolph was shaved, and lost many 
 a hair ; and I'll be sworn my pocket was pick'd. Go to, you 
 are a woman, go. 
 
 Host. Who, I ? no ; I defy thee : God's light, I was never 
 calPd so in mine own house before. 
 
 Fal. Go to, I know you well enough. 
 
 Host. No, Sir John ; you do not know me, Sir John. I 
 know you, Sir John : you owe me money, Sir John ; and 
 now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it : I bought you a 
 dozen of shirts to your back. 
 
 Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas : 10 I have given them away to 
 bakers' wives, and they have made bolters 11 of them. 
 
 Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shil- 
 lings an ell. 12 You owe money here besides, Sir John, for 
 your diet and by-drinkings, 13 and money lent you, four-and- 
 twenty pound. 
 
 tion. — " Dame Partlet the hen " is a highly-distinguished character in the 
 story of Reynard the Fox. See The Winter's Tale, page 78, note 9. 
 9 The tithe is the tenth part ; as in old ecclesiastical language. 
 
 10 Dowlas is said to be from Dowlens, the name of a town in France, 
 where a kind of coarse linen cloth was made. 
 
 11 Bolters were sieves, used for sifting or bolting meal or flour. 
 
 12 Eight shillings an ell, for Holland linen, appears a high price for the 
 time ; but hear Stubbs in his Anatomie of Abuses : " In so much as I have 
 heard of shirtes that have cost some ten shillinges, some twentie, some for- 
 tie, some five pound, some twentie nobles, and (whiche is horrible to heare) 
 some ten pound a peece ; yea the meanest shirte that commonly is worne 
 of any doth cost a crowne or a noble at the least ; and yet that is scarsely 
 thought fine enough for the simplest person." 
 
 13 By-drinkings are drinkings between meals. 
 
144 THE FIRST PART OF ACT III. 
 
 Fal. He had his part of it ; let him pay. 
 
 Host. He ? alas, he is poor ; he hath nothing. 
 
 Fal. How ! poor ? look upon his face ; what call you 
 rich? let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks : I'll 
 not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker 14 of me ? 
 shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my 
 pocket picked ? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's 
 worth forty mark. 
 
 Host. O Jesu, I have heard the Prince tell him, I know 
 not how oft, that that ring was copper ! 
 
 Fal. How ! the Prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup : 15 'sblood, 
 an he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would 
 say so. — 
 
 Enter Prince Henry and Pointz, marching. Falstaff 
 meets them, playing on his truncheon like a fife. 
 
 How now, lad ! is the wind in that door, i'faith ? must we 
 all march? 
 
 Bard. Yea, two-and-two, Newgate-fashion. 16 
 
 Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me. 
 
 Prince. What say'st thou, Mistress Quickly? How does 
 thy husband? I love him well ; he is an honest man. 
 
 Host. Good my lord, hear me. 
 
 Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me. 
 
 Prince. What say'st thou, Jack? 
 
 Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, 
 
 14 Younker is here used for a novice, a dupe, or a person thoughtless 
 through inexperience; something like out greenhorn. 
 
 15 Dyce says, "sneak-cup is plainly one who sneaks from his cup"; that 
 is, dodges the liquor. 
 
 16 Bardolph is somewhat keen here. Newgate was one of the London 
 prisons ; and condemned criminals were wont to be marched off to prison, 
 handcuffed together in pairs, or two a?id two, to keep them from escaping. 
 
SCENE in. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 45 
 
 and had my pocket pick'd : this house is turn'd bawdy- 
 house ; they pick pockets. 
 
 Prince, What didst thou lose, Jack ? 
 
 Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal ? three or four bonds of 
 forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my grandfather's. 
 
 Prince. A trifle, some eight-penny matter. 
 
 Host. So I told him, my lord ; and I said I heard your 
 Grace say so : and, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like 
 a foul-mouth'd man as he is ; and said he would cudgel you. 
 
 Prince. What ! he did not? 
 
 Host There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me 
 else. 
 
 Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stew'd 
 prune ; 17 nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox ; 18 
 and, for womanhood, Maid Marian 19 may be the deputy's 
 wife of the ward to thee. 20 Go, you thing, go. 
 
 17 Faith here means fidelity. — Falstaffis something touched with a habit 
 of looseness in his comparisons. It appears that stewed prunes were a 
 favourite relish in houses of ill fame ; and here the thing eaten seems to be 
 put for the eater. 
 
 18 " A drawn fox " is commonly said to mean a fox drawn or ousted 
 from his cover, when he was supposed to have recourse to all sorts of cun- 
 ning artifices, to elude his pursuers. It may be so; but I much prefer 
 Heath's explanation : " A fox drawn over the ground, to leave a scent, and 
 keep the hounds in exercise while they are not employed in a better chase. 
 It is said to have no truth in it, because it deceives the hounds, who run with 
 the same eagerness as if they were in pursuit of a real fox." 
 
 19 Maid Marian was the inward partner of Robin Hood, who, in the 
 words of Drayton, " to his mistress dear, his loved Marian, was ever con- 
 stant known." As this famous couple afterwards became leading charac- 
 ters in the morris dance, and as Marian's part was generally sustained by a 
 man in woman's clothing, the name grew to be proverbial for a mannish 
 woman. 
 
 20 Here to has the force of compared to, or in comparison with. So that 
 the meaning seems to be, " In respect of womanhood, you are as much be- 
 low maid Marian as she is below the wife of the deputy of the ward." The 
 
I46 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IIL 
 
 Host. Say, what thing ? what thing ? I am an honest man's 
 wife : and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to 
 call me so. 
 
 Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say 
 otherwise. 
 
 Host. Say, what beast, thou knave, thou ? 
 
 Fal. What beast ! why, an otter. 
 
 Prince. An otter, Sir John, why an otter? 
 
 Fal. Why, she's neither fish nor flesh ; a man knows not 
 where to have her. 
 
 Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so : thou or any 
 man knows where to have me, thou knave, thou ! 
 
 Prince. Thou say'st true, hostess ; and he slanders thee 
 most grossly. 
 
 Host. So he doth you, my lord ; and said this other day 
 you ought 21 him a thousand pound. 
 
 Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound ? 
 
 Fal. A thousand pound, Hal ! a million : thy love is 
 worth a million ; thou owest me thy love. 
 
 Host. Nay, my lord, he call'd you Jack, and said he would 
 cudgel you. 
 
 Fal. Did I, Bardolph? 
 
 Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so. 
 
 Fal. Yea, if he said my ring was copper. 
 
 Prince. I say 'tis copper : darest thou be as good as thy 
 word now? 
 
 Fal. Why, Hal, thou know'st, as thou art but man, I dare ; 
 but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of 
 the lion's whelp. 
 
 Mayor, I think, or some other magistrate of the city, had a deputy, or sub 
 stitute, in each ward. Of course it was an office of considerable dignity. 
 21 Ought and owed are but different forms of the same word. 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 147 
 
 Prince. And why not as the lion ? 
 
 Fal. The King himself is to be feared as the lion : dost 
 thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I 
 pray God my girdle break. 22 
 
 Prince. Sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty 
 in this bosom of thine ; it is all fill'd up with midriff. 
 Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket ! why, thou 
 whoreson, impudent, embossed 23 rascal, if there were any 
 thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, and one poor 
 pennyworth of sugar-candy to make thee long-winded, — if 
 thy pocket were enrich'd with any other injuries but these, I 
 am a villain : and yet you will stand to it ; you will not 
 pocket-up wrong. 24 Art thou not ashamed ! 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal ? thou know'st, in the state of 
 innocency Adam fell ; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do 
 in the days of villainy? Thou see'st I have more flesh than 
 another man ; and therefore more frailty. You confess, then, 
 you pick'd my pocket? 
 
 Prince. It appears so by the story. 
 
 22 " Ungirt, unblest " was an old proverb. And in the language of the 
 Old Testament, the girdle is emblematic of authority, and of the qualities 
 that inspire respect and reverence. So in Job xii. 18 : " He looseth the 
 bond of kings, and girdeth their loins with a girdle." Also in Isaiah xi. 5 : 
 " And righteousness shall be the girdle of his loins, and faithfulness the gir- 
 dle of his reins." So that Falstaff 's meaning seems to be, " May I in my 
 old age cease to be reverenced, if I be guilty of such a misplacement of 
 reverence." 
 
 23 Emboss' d was often used of certain sores, such as boils and carbuncles, 
 when grown to a head. In this sense it might aptly refer to Falstaff 's ro- 
 tundity of person. See As You Like It, page 71, note 12. 
 
 24 Pocketing-up wrongs or injuries is an old phrase for tamely putting up 
 with affronts, instead of resenting them with manly spirit. Of course the 
 Prince has a punning reference to the forecited contents of Sir John's 
 pocket. 
 
148 THE FIRST PART OF ACT lit 
 
 Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee : 25 go, make ready break- 
 fast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy 
 guests : thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason ; 
 thou see'st I am pacified. — Still? Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. 
 \_Exit Hostess.] — Now, Hal, to the news at Court : for the 
 robbery, lad, how is that answered ? 
 
 Prince. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to 
 thee : the money is paid back again. 
 
 Fal. O, I do not like that paying back ; 'tis a double labour. 
 
 Prince. I am good friends with my father, and may do 
 any thing. 
 
 Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, 
 and do it with unwash'd hands too. 26 
 
 Bard. Do, my lord. 
 
 Prince. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of Foot. 
 
 Fal. I would it had been of Horse. Where shall I find 
 one that can steal well? O, for a fine thief, of the age of 
 two-and-twenty or thereabouts ! I am heinously unprovided. 
 Well, God be thanked for these rebels ; they offend none 
 but the virtuous : I laud them, I praise them. 
 
 Prince. Bardolph, — 
 
 Bard. My lord ? 
 
 Prince. Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, 
 My brother John ; this to my Lord of Westmoreland. — 
 
 [Exit Bardolph. 
 Go, Pointz, to. horse, to horse ; for thou and I 
 Have thirty miles to ride ere dinner-time. — [Exit Pointz. 
 Meet me to-morrow, Jack, i' the Temple-hall 
 
 25 A characteristic stroke of humorous impudence ; Falstaff making 
 believe that he is the one sinned against, and not the sinner. 
 
 26 Doing a thing with unwas/ied hands appears to be much the same as 
 doing it without gloves ; that is, thoroughly or unscrupulously. 
 
SCENE I KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 49 
 
 At two o'clock in th' afternoon : 
 There shalt thou know thy charge ; and there receive 
 Money and order for their furniture. 
 The land is burning ; Percy stands on high ; 
 And either they or we must lower lie. \_Exit. 
 
 Fal. Rare words ! brave world ! — Hostess, my breakfast ; 
 come : — 
 O, I could wish this tavern were my drum ! 27 [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. 
 
 Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas. 
 
 Hot. Well said, my noble Scot : if speaking truth 
 In this fine age were not thought flattery, 
 Such attribution should the Douglas have, 
 As 1 not a soldier of this season's stamp 
 Should go so general-current through the world. 
 By God, I cannot flatter; I defy 2 
 The tongues of soothers ; but a braver place 
 In my heart's love hath no man than yourself : 
 
 27 Sir John prefers the leading of his gastric apparatus in the tavern to 
 that of the military ensign, or of the drum, which was wont to be decorated 
 with the colours of the regiment or battalion : so, as Mr. Joseph Crosby ob- 
 serves, " when he has heard the Prince giving orders to get ready for march- 
 ing, he gives his orders to the Hostess to get ready for breakfast." 
 
 1 As and that were used indiscriminately. 
 
 2 Defy, again, for refuse or abjure. See page 79, note 22. — Soothers is 
 /Loiterers; a frequent usage. 
 
I50 THE FIRST PART OF 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Nay, task me to my word ; approve me, 3 lord. 
 
 Doug. Thou art the king of honour : 
 No man so potent breathes upon the ground 
 But I will beard him. 
 
 Hot. Do so, and 'tis well. — 
 
 Enter a Messenger with letters. 
 
 What letters hast thou there ? — I can but thank you. 
 
 Mess. These letters come from your father. 
 
 Hot. Letters from him ! why comes he not himself? 
 
 Mess. He cannot come, my lord ; he's grievous sick. 
 
 Hot Zwounds ! how has he the leisure to be sick 
 In such a justling time? Who leads his power? 
 Under whose government come they along? 
 
 Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. 
 
 Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? 
 
 Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth ; 
 And at the time of my departure thence 
 He was much fear'd by his physicians. 4 
 
 Wor. I would the state of time had first been whole 
 Ere he by sickness had been visited : 
 His health was never better worth than now. 
 
 Hot. Sick now ! droop now ! this sickness doth infect 
 The very life-blood of our enterprise ; 
 'Tis catching hither, even to our camp. 
 He writes me here, that inward sickness, — 
 And that his friends by deputation could not 
 So soon be drawn ; nor did he think it meet 
 To lay so dangerous and dear a trust 
 
 8 "Approve me " is make trial of me, ox put me to the proof. 
 4 This way of using fear was not uncommon. See King Richard the 
 Third, page 51, note 21. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 151 
 
 On any soul removed, but on his own. 
 
 Yet doth he give us bold advertisement, 
 
 That with our small conjunction we should on, 
 
 To see how fortune is disposed to us ; 
 
 For, as he writes, there is no quailing now, 
 
 Because the King is certainly possess 'd 5 
 
 Of all our purposes. What say you to it ? 
 
 Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us. 
 
 Hot, A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off: — 
 And yet, in faith, 'tis not ; his present want 
 Seems more than we shall find it. Were it good 
 To set the exact wealth of all our states 
 All at one cast ? to set so rich a main 
 On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour ? 
 It were not good ; for therein should we read 6 
 The very bottom and the soul of hope, 
 The very list, 7 the very utmost bound 
 Of all our fortunes. 
 
 Doug. Faith, and so we should ; 
 
 Where 8 now remains a sweet reversion ; 
 And we may boldly spend upon the hope 
 Of what is to come in : 
 A comfort of retirement 9 lives in this. 
 
 Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, 
 If that the Devil and mischance look big 
 
 5 Possessed is informed. Often so. See Twelfth Night, page 65, note 25. 
 
 6 To see, to learn, to discover are among the old senses of to read. To 
 " read the bottom " is to try the uttermost; to exhaust. 
 
 7 List in the sense of edge or border, was quite common. A metaphor 
 from the list of cloth. 
 
 8 Where and whereas were used interchangeably in the Poet's time. 
 
 9 Retirement is used with the same meaning as reversion, just before ; 
 something to fall back upon. 
 
152 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV 
 
 Upon the maidenhood of our affairs. 10 
 
 Wor. But yet I would your father had been here. 
 
 The quality and hair n of our attempt 
 
 Brooks no division : it will be thought 
 
 By some, that know not why he is away, 
 
 That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike 
 
 Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence : 
 
 And think how such an apprehension 
 
 May turn the tide of fearful faction, 
 
 And breed a kind of question in our cause ; 
 
 For well you know we of the offering side 12 
 
 Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement, 
 
 And stop all sight-holes, every loop 13 from whence 
 
 The eye of reason may pry in upon us : 
 
 This absence of your father's draws a curtain, 
 
 That shows the ignorant a kind of fear 14 
 
 Before not dreamt of. 
 
 Hot. Nay, you strain too far. 
 
 I, rather, of his absence make this use : 
 
 It lends a lustre and more great opinion, 15 
 
 A larger dare to our great enterprise, 
 
 Than if the earl were here ; for men must think, 
 
 10 The youth, immaturity of our affairs. 
 
 11 Hair was used metaphorically for complexion, or character. So in 
 Beaumont and Fletcher's Nice Valour ; " A lady of my hair cannot want 
 pitying." And in an old manuscript play entitled Sir Thomas More : " A 
 fellow of your haire is very fitt to be a secretaries follower." 
 
 12 The offering side is the assailing side. 
 
 13 Loop is the same as loop-hole. 
 
 14 Here, again, fear is put for the thing feared. The words draws a cur- 
 tain (that is, withdraws) show that the Poet had in mind the personage 
 called Fear, who figured on the old stage ; something like what we call a 
 fright. 
 
 15 Opinion is fame, reputation, in old English, as in Latin. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 53 
 
 If we, without his help, can make a head 
 To push against the kingdom, with his help 
 We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down. 
 Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole. 
 
 Doug. As heart can think : there is not such a word 
 Spoken in Scotland as this term of fear. 
 
 Enter Sir Richard Vernon. 
 
 Hot. My cousin Vernon ! welcome, by my soul. 
 
 Ver. Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord. 
 The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, 
 Is marching hitherwards ; with him Prince John. 
 
 Hot. No harm : what more ? 
 
 Ver. And further, I have learn'd. 
 
 The King himself in person is set forth, 
 Or hitherwards intendeth speedily, 
 With strong and mighty preparation. 
 
 Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, 
 The nimble-footed 16 madcap Prince of Wales, 
 And his comrades, that daff 17 the world aside, 
 And bid it pass ? 
 
 Ver, All furnish'd, all in arms ; 
 
 All plumed like estridges that with the wind 
 Bate it ; 18 like eagles having lately bathed ; 19 
 
 16 Stowe says of the Prince, " He was passing swift in running, insomuch 
 that he, with two other of his lords, without hounds, bow, or other engine, 
 would take a wilde bucke, or doe, in a large parke." 
 
 17 Daff is the same as doff, do off. Here it means throw or toss. 
 
 !8 Estridge is the old form of ostrich. The ostrich's plumage might 
 naturally occur to the Poet, from its being the cognizance of the Prince. — 
 To bate is an old term, meaning to flutter or flap the wings, as an ostrich 
 does to aid its speed in running. Here it is used absolutely or indefinitely, 
 and not as referring to any antecedent. So the Poet has such expressions 
 
154 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV 
 
 Glittering in golden coats, like images ; 
 As full of spirit as the month of May, 
 And gorgeous as the Sun at midsummer; 
 Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. 
 I saw young Harry — with his beaver 20 on, 
 His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd — 
 Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, 
 
 as " fight it out," " smooth'st it so," " revel it" " trip it as you go," and others. 
 So that the meaning in the text is, " Their plumage showed as if they had 
 been ostriches struggling with, or beating against, the wind." Such is the 
 upshot of the explanation lately given by Mr. A. E. Brae ; who supports it 
 by the following apt quotation from one of Lord Bacon's letters to Queen 
 Elizabeth, 1600: " For now I am like a hawk that bates when I see occasion 
 for service, but cannot fly, because I am tied to another's fist." Mr. Brae 
 adds, " There can be no doubt that the first branch of the simile is an allu- 
 sion to the egregious pluming of the helmets of those days, as represented 
 in many an old illumination ; and certainly the streaming of an ostrich's 
 plumage, when struggling against the wind, presents a much more vivid 
 image than when sailing before it." 
 
 19 Here, again, I gladly avail myself of Mr. Brae's learned comments : 
 " Eagles were supposed to renew their youth and vigour by plunging in cer- 
 tain springs. In the Bestiare of Philippe de Thaun, the story of the eagles 
 seeking a certain fountain in the East, and, when plunged therein three 
 times, having their youth and vigour renewed, is declared to be typical of 
 baptism." Spenser makes use of the same fable in The Faerie Queene, i. 11, 
 where the hero, overcome and desperately wounded in his long fight with 
 the " old Dragon," at last falls back into " a springing well, full of great ver- 
 tues, and for med'cine good," and lies there all the night. Una, sorely dis- 
 tressed and dismayed at his fall, watches, to see the issue, till morning, when 
 
 At last she saw, where he upstarted brave 
 Out of the well, wherein he drenched lay ; 
 As eagle fresh out of the ocean wave, 
 Where he hath left his plumes all hoary gray, 
 And deckt himselfe with feathers youthly gay. 
 
 20 The beaver of the helmet was a movable piece, which lifted up to 
 enable the wearer to drink or to breathe more freely. Of course in time of 
 action it was drawn down over the face. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 155 
 
 And vault it with such ease 21 into his seat, 
 As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, 
 To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, 
 And witch the world with noble horsemanship. 
 
 Hot. No more, no more : worse than the Sun in March, 
 This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come ; 
 They come like sacrifices in their trim, 
 And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war, 
 All hot and bleeding, will we offer them : 
 The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit 
 Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire 
 To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh, 
 And yet not ours. — Come, let me taste 22 my horse, 
 Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt, 
 Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales : 
 Harry and Harry shall, hot horse to horse, 
 Meet, and ne'er part till one drop down a corse. — 
 O, that Glendower were come ! 
 
 Ver. There is more news : 
 
 I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, 
 He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. 
 
 Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet. 
 
 Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. 
 
 Hot. What may the King's whole battle reach unto ? 
 
 Ver. To thirty thousand. 
 
 Hot. Forty let it be : 
 
 My father and Glendower being both away, 
 The powers of us may serve so great a day. 
 
 21 Another instance like that remarked in note 18. 
 
 22 The Poet repeatedly uses to taste for to try. See Twelfth Night. 
 page iot;, note 21. 
 
156 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV. 
 
 Come, let us take a muster 23 speedily : 
 Doomsday is near ; die all, die merrily. 
 
 Doug. Talk not of dying : I am out of fear 
 Of death or death's hand for this one half-year. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — A public Road near Coventry. 
 Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. 
 
 Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a 
 bottle of sack : our soldiers shall march through ; we'll to 
 Sutton-Co'flP 1 to-night. 
 
 Bard. Will you give me money, captain ? 
 
 Fal. Lay out, lay out. 
 
 Bard. This bottle makes an angel. 2 
 
 Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour ; and if it make 
 twenty, take them all ; I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieu- 
 tenant Peto meet me at the town's end. 
 
 Bard. I will, captain : farewell. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused 
 gurnet. 3 I have misused the King's press 4 damnably. I have 
 
 23 To take a muster is to ascertain the number of troops assembled ; as 
 we speak of taking a census. 
 
 1 Sutton- Co' fit' is a contracted form of Sutton- Coalfield. 
 
 2 This angel was a gold coin, which seems to have borne much the same 
 relation to the English currency in Shakespeare's time, as the sovereign 
 does now. — When Falstaff says "Lay out, lay out," he probably hands 
 Bardolph the bottle, — a piece of plate, perhaps, which he has obtained 
 in much the same way as he reckons upon getting his soldiers supplied with 
 linen for their shirtless backs. 
 
 3 The gurnet or gurnard, was a fish of the piper kind. It was probably 
 deemed a vulgar dish when soused or pickled, hence soused gurnet was a 
 common term of reproach. 
 
 4 That is., misused the King's commission for impressing men into the 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. I 5/ 
 
 got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred 
 and odd pounds. I press 'd me none but good householders, 
 yeomen's sons ; inquired me out contracted bachelors, such 
 as had been ask'd twice on the banns ; 5 such a commodity 
 of warm slaves as had as lief hear the Devil as a drum ; such 
 as fear the report of a caliver worse than a struck fowl or a 
 hurt wild-duck. I press'd me none but such toasts- and-but- 
 ter, 6 with hearts in their bodies no bigger than pins'-heads, 
 and they have bought out their services ; and now my whole 
 charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen 
 of companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted 
 cloth, where the glutton's dogs lick his sores ; 7 and such as, 
 indeed, were never soldiers, but discarded unjust serving- 
 men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, 
 and ostlers trade-fallen ; the cankers of a calm world and a 
 long peace ; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an 
 old faced ancient : 8 and such have I, to fill up the rooms 
 
 military service. The King's press, in old times, was just about equivalent 
 to what we have known as Uncle Sam's draft. 
 
 5 To ask upon the banns, to ask the banns, and to publish the banns, 
 are all phrases of the same import. The law, I believe, required that par- 
 ties intending marriage should have the banns asked three times, in as 
 many weeks, before the ceremony could take place. So that when the 
 banns had been asked twice, the "joyful day " was pretty near. 
 
 6 So in Fynes Moryson's Itinerary, 1617 : " Londoners, and all within 
 the sound of Bow bell, are in reproach called cockneys, and eaters of but- 
 tered toasts!' And in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit without Money : "They 
 love young toasts and butter, Bow-bell suckers." 
 
 7 The painted cloth here spoken of is the tapestry with which the walls 
 of rooms used to be lined, and on which it was customary to have short 
 sentences inscribed, and certain incidents of Scripture depicted, so as to 
 combine ornament and instruction. See As You Like It, page 89, note 38. 
 
 8 Ancient is an old corruption of ensign, and was used both for the stand- 
 ard and the bearer of it. Falstaff here means an old patched flag. — 
 " Revolted tapsters " are tapsters who have run away from their masters, 
 and who were bound by contract or indenture to serve as apprentices for a 
 
158 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV. 
 
 of them that have bought out their services, that you would 
 think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals lately 
 come, from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A 
 mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had unloaded 
 all the gibbets, and press'd the dead bodies. No eye hath 
 seen such scarecrows. I'll not march through Coventry with 
 them, that's flat : nay, and the villains march wide betwixt 
 the legs, as if they had gyves on ; for, indeed, I had the most 
 of them out of prison. There's but a shirt and a half in all 
 my company; and the half-shirt is two napkins tack'd to- 
 gether and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat 
 without sleeves ; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from 
 my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose innkeeper of 
 Daventry. But that's all one ; they'll find linen enough on 
 every hedge. 
 
 Enter Prince Henry and Westmoreland. 
 
 Prince. How now, blown Jack ! how now, quilt ! 9 
 Fal. What, Hal ! how now, mad wag ! what a devil dost 
 thou in Warwickshire? — My good Lord of Westmoreland, I 
 cry you mercy : 10 I thought your honour had already been at 
 Shrewsbury. 
 
 West. Faith, Sir John, 'tis more than time that I were 
 there, and you too ; but my powers are there already. The 
 King, I can tell you, looks for us all : we must away all, to- 
 night. 
 
 term of years. Such is Francis, the " underskinker," in this play. — Nash, in 
 his Pierce Penniless, 1592, has an expression like one in the text : " All the 
 canker-worms that breed in the rust of peace." 
 
 9 Blown and quilt both have reference to Falstaff 's plumpness ; only the 
 one supposes him to be plump with wind, the other, with cotton. 
 
 10 " I ask your pardon." Falstaff is pretending not to have recognized 
 his lordship at first, and so makes an apology. 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 59 
 
 Fal. Tut, never fear me : I am as vigilant as a cat to steal 
 cream. 
 
 Prince. I think, to steal cream, indeed ; for thy theft hath 
 already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack, whose fellows 
 are these that come after? 
 
 Fal. Mine, Hal, mine. 
 
 Prince. I did never see such pitiful rascals. 
 
 Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss; 11 food for powder, 
 food for powder ; they'll fill a pit as well as better : tush, man, 
 mortal men, mortal men. 
 
 West. Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are exceeding 
 poor and bare, — too beggarly. 
 
 Fal. Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had 
 that ; and, for their bareness, I am sure they never learn 'd 
 that of me. 
 
 Prince. No, I'll be sworn ; unless you call three fingers 
 on the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste : Percy is already 
 in the field. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. What, is the King encamp'd? 
 
 West. He is, Sir John : I fear we shall stay too long. 
 
 \_Exit. 
 
 Fal. Well, 
 To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast 
 Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. \Exit. 
 
 Scene III. — The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. 
 
 Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, and Vernon. 
 
 Hot. We'll fight with him to-night. 
 
 Wor. It may not be. 
 
 H Good enough to toss upon pikes ; a war phrase of the time. 
 
l6o THE FIRST PART OF ACT IV 
 
 Doug. You give him, then, advantage. 
 
 Ver. Not a whit. 
 
 Hot. Why say you so ? looks he not for supply ? 
 
 Ver. So do we. 
 
 Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful. 
 
 Wor. Good cousin, be advised ; stir not to-night. 
 
 Ver. Do not, my lord. 
 
 Doug. You do not counsel well : 
 
 You speak it out of fear and cold heart. 
 
 Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas : by my life, — 
 And I dare well maintain it with my life, — 
 If well-respected honour bid me on, 
 I hold as little counsel with weak fear 
 As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives : 
 Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle 
 Which of us fears. 
 
 Doug. Yea, or to-night. 
 
 Ver. Content. 
 
 Hot. To-night, say I. 
 
 Ver. Come, come, it may not be. I wonder much. 
 Being men of such great leading as you are, 
 That you foresee not what impediments 
 Drag back our expedition : certain Horse 
 Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up : 
 Your uncle Worcester's Horse came but to-day ; 
 And now their pride and mettle is asleep, 
 Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, 
 That not a horse is half the half himself. 
 
 Hot. So are the horses of the enemy 
 In general, journey-bated and brought low : 
 The better part of ours are full of rest. 
 
 Wor. The number of the King exceedeth ours i 
 
SCENE in. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. l6l 
 
 For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in. 
 
 \_The Trumpet sounds a parley. 
 
 Enter Sir Walter Blunt. 
 
 Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the King, 
 If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect. 
 
 Hot. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt ; and would to God 
 You were of our determination ! 
 Some of us love you well ; and even those some 
 Envy your great deservings and good name, 
 Because you are not of our quality, 1 
 But stand against us like an enemy. 
 
 Blunt. And God defend but still I should stand so, 
 So long as out of limit and true rule 
 You stand against anointed majesty ! 
 But, to my charge : The King hath sent to know 
 The nature of your griefs ; 2 and whereupon 
 You conjure from the breast of civil peace 
 Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land 
 Audacious cruelty. If that the King 
 Have any way your good deserts forgot, 
 Which he confesseth to be manifold, 
 He bids you name your griefs ; and with all speed 
 You shall have your desires with interest, 
 
 1 The Poet in several instances uses quality in the classical sense of kind, 
 nature, or condition. — I am not quite clear as to the meaning of envy here. 
 Taken in its present sense, it will hardly cohere with the logic implied in 
 because. In Shakespeare, the more common meaning of envy (substantive) 
 is malice or hatred. Probably the verb is here used in the sense of to hate ; 
 as, in theological and political strifes, the very worth of those who are not 
 on our side generally makes us hate them the more ; or, which comes to 
 the same thing, makes us disparage their good name. 
 
 2 Griefs for grievances ; the effect for the cause. 
 
1 62 THE FIRST PART OF ACT IM 
 
 And pardon absolute for yourself and these 
 Herein misled by your suggestion. 3 
 
 Hot. The King is kind ; and well we know the King 
 Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. 
 My father and my uncle and myself 
 Did give him that same royalty he wears ; 
 And — when he was not six-and-twenty strong, 
 Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, 
 A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home — 
 My father gave him welcome to the shore : 
 And — when he heard him swear and vow to God, 
 He came but to be Duke of Lancaster, 
 To sue his livery and beg his peace, 4 
 With tears of innocence and terms of zeal — 
 My father, in kind heart and pity moved, 
 Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too. 
 Now, when the lords and barons of the realm 
 Perceived Northumberland did lean to him, 
 The more and less 5 came in with cap and knee ; 
 Met him in boroughs, cities, villages, 
 Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, 
 Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths, 
 Gave him their heirs as pages, follow'd him 
 
 3 The Poet commonly uses suggestion for temptation or instigation. 
 
 4 To sue one's livery and to beg one's peace are old law terms, and are 
 here used with strict propriety. On the death of a person who held by the 
 tenure of knight's service, his heir, if under age, became a ward of the 
 king's ; but, if of age, he had a right to sue out a writ of ouster le main, that 
 the king's hand might be taken off, and the land delivered to him. At the 
 same time he offered his homage, that being the condition of his tenure ; 
 which was to beg the peaceable enjoyment of his lands. When Bolingbroke 
 was in exile, his father having died, the King denied him this right, and 
 seized the lands to his own use. See Richard the Second, page 76, note 27. 
 
 5 That is, the great and the small ; men of all ranks. 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. l6j 
 
 Even at the heels in golden multitudes. 
 He presently — as greatness knows itself 6 — 
 Steps me a little higher than his vow 
 Made to my father, while his blood was poor, 
 Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg ; 
 And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform 
 Some certain edicts and some strait decrees 
 That lie too heavy on the commonwealth ; 
 Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep 
 Over his country's wrongs ; and, by this face, 
 This seeming brow of justice, did he win 
 The hearts of all that he did angle for : 
 Proceeded further ; cut me off the heads 
 Of all the favourites, that the absent King 
 In deputation left behind him here 
 When he was personal in the Irish war. 7 
 
 Blunt Tut, I came not to hear this. 
 
 Hot Then to the point : 
 In short time after, he deposed the King ; 
 Soon after that, deprived him of his life ; 
 And, in the neck of that, task'd 8 the whole State : 
 To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman March 
 (Who is, if every owner were well placed, 
 Indeed his king) to be engaged 9 in Wales, 
 
 6 Meaning when he saw what greatness was within his reach, or knew 
 how great he might be. 
 
 7 Commanding in person in the Irish war. 
 
 8 Task'd is here used for taxed. The usage, though common, was not 
 strictly correct; a task being more properly a tribute or subsidy. Thus 
 Philips, in his World of Words : " Tasck is an old British word, signifying 
 tribute, from whence haply cometh our word task, which is a duty or labour 
 imposed upon any one." 
 
 9 To be engaged is to be pledged as a hostage. So in v. 2 : " And West- 
 moreland that was engaged did bear it." See page 77, note 15. 
 
I64 THE FIRST PART OF 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 There without ransom to lie forfeited ; 
 
 Disgraced me in my happy victories, 
 
 Sought to entrap me by intelligence ; 
 
 Rated my uncle from the Council-board ; 
 
 In rage dismiss 'd my father from the Court ; 
 
 Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong ; 
 
 And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out 
 
 This head of safety ; and withal to pry 
 
 Into his title, the which now we find 
 
 Too indirect for long continuance. 
 
 Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the King? 
 
 Hot. Not so, Sir Walter : we'll withdraw awhile. 
 Go to the King ; and let there be impawn'd 
 Some surety for a safe return again, 
 And in the morning early shall my uncle 
 Bring him our purposes : and so, farewell. 
 
 Blunt. I would you would accept of grace and love. 
 
 Hot. And may be so we shall. 
 
 Blunt. Pray God you do. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — York. A Room in the Archbishops Palace. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of York and Sir Michael. 
 
 Arch. Hie, good Sir Michael ; bear this sealed brief 1 
 With winged haste to the Lord Marshal ; 2 
 This to my cousin Scroop ; and all the rest 
 To whom they are directed. If you knew 
 
 1 A brief is a short writing, as a letter. 
 
 2 The office of Lord Marshal was hereditary in the Mowbray family. 
 The Lord Marshal at this time was Thomas Mowbray. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 65 
 
 How much they do import, you would make haste. 
 
 Sir M. My good lord, 
 I guess their tenour. 
 
 Arch. Like enough you do. 
 
 To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day 
 Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men 
 Must bide the touch ; for, sir, at Shrewsbury, 
 As I am truly given to understand, 
 The King, with mighty and quick-raised power, 
 Meets with Lord Harry : and, I fear, Sir Michael, 
 What with the sickness of Northumberland, 
 Whose power was in the first proportion, 
 And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence, 
 Who with them was a rated sinew too, 3 
 And comes not in, o'er-ruled by prophecies, — 
 I fear the power of Percy is too weak 
 To wage an instant trial with the King. 
 
 Sir M. Why, my good lord, you need not fear ; there's 
 Douglas 
 And Lord Mortimer. 
 
 Arch. No, Mortimer's not there. 
 
 Sir M. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy, 
 And there's my Lord of Worcester ; and a head 
 Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen. 
 
 Arch. And so there is : but yet the King hath drawn 
 The special head of all the land together ; 
 The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, 
 The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt ; 
 And many more corrivals and dear men 
 Of estimation and command in arms. 
 
 3 A strength on which they reckoned. 
 
1 66 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V. 
 
 Sir M. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed. 
 
 Arch. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear ; 
 And, to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed : 
 For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King 
 Dismiss his power, he means to visit us, 
 For he hath heard of our confederacy ; 
 And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him : 
 Therefore make haste. I must go write again 
 To other friends ; and so, farewell, Sir Michael. \_Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — The King's Camp near Shrewsbury. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, Lancaster, Sir Walter 
 Blunt, and Sir John Falstaff. 
 
 King. How bloodily the Sun begins to peer 
 Above yon bosky 1 hill ! the day looks pale 
 At his distemperature. 
 
 Prince. The southern wind 
 
 Doth play the trumpet to his purposes ; 
 And by his hollow whistling in the leaves 
 Foretells a tempest and a blustering day. 
 
 King. Then with the losers let it sympathize, 
 For nothing can seem foul to those that win. — 
 
 \The Trumpet sounds. 
 
 1 Bosky is woody, bushy. So in Milton's Comus : 
 
 I know each lane, and every alley green, 
 Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild wood, 
 And every bosky bourn from side to side. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 67 
 
 Enter Worcester and Vernon. 
 
 How now, my Lord of Worcester ! 'tis not well 
 That you and I should meet upon such terms 
 As now we meet. You have deceived our trust ; 
 And made us doff our easy robes of peace, 
 To crush our old limbs 2 in ungentle steel : 
 This is not well, my lord, this is not well. 
 What say you to't? will you again unknit 
 This churlish knot of all-abhorred war ? 
 And move in that obedient orb 3 again 
 Where you did give a fair and natural light ; 
 And be no more an exhaled meteor, 
 A prodigy of fear, and a portent 
 Of broached mischief to the unborn times ? 
 
 Wor. Hear me, my liege : 
 For mine own part, I could be well content 
 To entertain the lag-end of my life 
 With quiet hours ; 4 for, I .do protest, 
 I have not sought the day of this dislike. 
 
 King. You have not sought it ! why, how comes it, then ? 
 
 Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. 
 
 Prince. Peace, chewet, 5 peace ! 
 
 2 The King was at this time but thirty-six years old. But in his develop- 
 ment of historical characters Shakespeare had little regard to dates, so he 
 could bring the substance of historic truth within the conditions of dramatic 
 effect ; and he here anticipates several years in the King's life, that he may 
 make Prince Henry old enough for the course of action ascribed to him. 
 
 3 Obedient orb is orbit of obedience. The Poet often has orb for orbit. 
 
 4 Hours is here a dissyllable. 
 
 5 The meaning of chewet is thus explained from Bacon's Natural His- 
 tory : " As for chuets, which are likewise minced meat, instead of butter and 
 fat, it were good to moisten them partly with cream, or almond and pistachio 
 milk." 
 
1 68 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V 
 
 Wor. It pleased your Majesty to turn your looks 
 Of favour from myself and all our House ; 
 And yet I must remember you, my lord, 
 We were the first and dearest of your friends. 
 For you my staff of office did I break 
 In Richard's time ; and posted day and night 
 To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand, 
 When yet you were in place and in account 
 Nothing so strong and fortunate as I. 
 It was myself, my brother, and his son, 
 That brought you home, and boldly did outdare 
 The dangers of the time. You swore to us, — 
 And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, — 
 That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state ; 
 Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right, 
 The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster : 
 To this we swore our aid. But in short space 
 It rain'd down fortune showering on your head ; 
 And such a flood of greatness fell on you, — 
 What with our help, what with the absent King, 
 What with the injuries of a wanton time, 
 The seeming sufferances that you had borne, 
 And the contrarious winds that held the King 
 So long in his unlucky Irish wars 
 That all in England did repute him dead, — 
 And, from this swarm of fair advantages, 
 You took occasion to be quickly woo'd 
 To gripe the general sway into your hand ; 
 Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ; 
 And, being fed by us, you used us so 
 As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo-bird, 6 
 
 6 The cuckoo has a habit of laying her eggs in the hedge-sparrow's nest, 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 169 
 
 Useth the sparrow ; did oppress our nest ; 
 
 Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk, 
 
 That even our love durst not come near your sight 
 
 For fear of swallowing ; but with nimble wing 
 
 We were enforced, for safety-sake, to fly 
 
 Out of your sight, and raise this present head : 
 
 Whereby we stand opposed 7 by such means 
 
 As you yourself have forged against yourself, 
 
 By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, 
 
 And violation of all faith and troth 
 
 Sworn to us in your younger enterprise. 
 
 King. These things, indeed, you have articulate, 8 
 Proclaim'd at market- crosses, read in churches, 
 To face the garment of rebellion 
 With some fine colour that may please the eye 
 Of fickle changelings and poor discontents, 9 
 
 and leaving them there to be hatched by the owner. The cuckoo chickens 
 are then cherished, fed, and cared for by the sparrow as her own children, 
 until they grow so large as to " oppress her nest," and become so greedy and 
 voracious as to frighten and finally drive away their feeder from her own 
 home. Something of the same kind is affirmed of the cuckoo and titlark 
 in Holland's Pliny, which first came out in 1601, some years after this play 
 was written : " The Titling, therefore, that sitteth, being thus deceived, 
 hatcheth the egge, and bringeth up the chicke of another birde ; and this 
 she doth so long, untill the young cuckow, being once fledge and readie to 
 flie abroad, is so bold as to seize upon the old titling, and eat her up that 
 hatched her." Shakespeare seems to have been the first to notice how the 
 hedge-sparrow was wont to be treated by that naughty bird. — Gull here 
 means "unfledged nestling." So several editors say; still I doubt it, and 
 suspect it has the sense of the Latin gulo, a voracious eater. 
 
 7 "We stand opposed " here means " we stand in opposition to you." 
 
 8 Articulate is here used in the past tense for articulated, as in the pas- 
 sage from Holland's Pliny in the preceding note : " Being once fiedge and 
 readie to flie abroad." To articulate is to set down in articles. 
 
 9 Discontents for malcontents. So, again, in Antony and Cleopatra, i. 4: 
 " To the ports the discontents repair." 
 
I/O THE FIRST PART OF ACT V. 
 
 Which gape and rub the elbow at the news 
 Of hurlyburly innovation : 
 And never yet did insurrection want 
 Such water-colours to impaint his cause ; 
 Nor moody beggars, starving for a time 
 Of pellmell havoc and confusion. 
 
 Prince. In both our armies there is many a soul 
 Shall pay full dearly for this encounter, 
 If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew, 
 The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world 
 In praise of Henry Percy : by my hopes, 
 This present enterprise set off his head, 10 
 I do not think a braver gentleman, 
 More active-valiant or more valiant-young, 
 More daring or more bold, is now alive 
 To grace this latter age with noble deeds. 
 For my part, — I may speak it to my shame, — 
 I have a truant been to chivalry ; 
 And so I hear he doth account me too : 
 Yet this before my father's Majesty, — 
 I am content that he shall take the odds 
 Of his great name and estimation, 
 And will, to save the blood on either side, 
 Try fortune with him in a single fight. 
 
 King. And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee, 
 Albeit, considerations infinite 
 Do make against it. — No, good Worcester, no ; 
 We love our people well ; even those we love 
 That are misled upon your cousin's part ; 
 And, will they take the offer of our grace, 
 
 10 His present rebellion being excepted or struck off from his record. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. I/I 
 
 Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man 
 Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his : 
 So tell your cousin, and then bring me word 
 What he will do : but, if he will not yield, 
 Rebuke and dread correction wait on us, 
 And they shall do their office. So, be gone ; 
 We will not now be troubled with reply : 
 We offer fair ; take it advisedly. 
 
 \_Exeu71t Worcester and Vernon. 
 
 Prince. It will not be accepted, on my life : 
 The Douglas and the Hotspur both together 
 Are confident against the world in arms. 
 
 King. Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge ; 
 For, on their answer, will we set on them : 
 And God befriend us, as our cause is just ! 
 
 \_Exeunt the King, Blunt, and Prince John. 
 
 Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride 
 me, 11 so ; 'tis a point of friendship. 
 
 Prince. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friend- 
 ship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. 
 
 Fal. I would it were bedtime, Hal, and all well. 
 
 Prince. Why, thou owest God a death. \_Exit. 
 
 Fal. 'Tis not due yet ; I would be loth to pay Him before 
 His day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not 
 on me ? Well, 'tis no matter ; honour pricks me on. Yea, 
 but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? 
 Can honour set-to a leg ? no : or an arm ? no : or take away 
 the grief of a wound ? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, 
 then? no. What is honour? a word. What is that word, 
 
 11 In the battle of Agincourt, Prince Henry, then king, did this act of 
 friendship for his brother, the Duke of Gloster. 
 
1 72 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V. 
 
 honour? air. A trim reckoning! — Who hath it? he that 
 died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? no. Doth he hear it ? 
 no. Is it insensible, then ? yea, to the dead. But will it not 
 live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. 
 Therefore I'll none of it : honour is a mere scutcheon : 12 — 
 and so ends my catechism. \Exit 
 
 Scene II. — The Rebel Camp. 
 Enter Worcester and Vernon. 
 
 Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard, 
 The liberal-kind offer of the King. 
 
 Ver. 'Twere best he did. 
 
 Wor. Then are we all undone. 
 
 It is not possible, it cannot be, 
 The King should keep his word in loving us ; 
 He will suspect us still, and find a time 
 To punish this offence in other faults : 
 Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes ; 
 For treason is but trusted like the fox, 
 Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd up, 
 Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. 1 ' 
 Look how we can, or sad or merrily, 
 Interpretation will misquote our looks ; 
 And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, 
 The better cherish'd, still the nearer death. 
 My nephew's trespass may be well forgot : 
 
 12 That is, a mere heraldic emblazonry, that can do nothing. 
 
 l " A wild trick " is a trick of wildness, or of running wild, inherited from 
 his ancestors. In fact, the fox, I believe, cannot be so tamed but that he 
 will run wild again on the first opportunity. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 173 
 
 It hath th' excuse of youth and heat of blood, 
 
 And an adopted name of privilege, — 
 
 A hare-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen : 
 
 All his offences lie upon my head 
 
 And on his father's : we did train him on ; 
 
 And, his corruption being ta'en from us, 
 
 We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. 
 
 Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know, 
 
 In any case, the offer of the King. 
 
 Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll say 'tis so. 
 Here comes your cousin. 
 
 Enter Hotspur and Douglas ; Officers and Soldiers behind. 
 
 Hot. My uncle is return'd : deliver up 
 My Lord of Westmoreland. 2 — Uncle, what news ? 
 
 Wor. The King will bid you battle presently. 
 
 Doug. Defy him by the Lord of Westmoreland. 
 
 Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. 
 
 Doug. Marry, I shall, and very willingly. \Exit 
 
 Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the King. 
 
 Hot. Did you beg any? God forbid ! 
 
 Wor. I told him gently of our grievances, 
 Of his oath-breaking ; which he mended thus, 
 By new-forswearing that he is forsworn : 
 He calls us rebels, traitors ; and will scourge 
 With haughty arms this hateful name in us. 
 
 Re-enter Douglas. 
 
 Doug. Arm, gentlemen; to arms ! for I have thrown 
 A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth, 
 
 2 The Earl of Westmoreland had been retained by Hotspur in pledge 
 for the safe return of Worcester. 
 
174 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V. 
 
 And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it ; 
 Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. 
 
 Wor. The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the King, 
 And, nephew, challenged you to single fight. 
 
 Hot. O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads ; 
 And that no man might draw short breath to-day 
 But I and Harry Monmouth ! 3 Tell me, tell me, 
 How show'd his tasking? 4 seem'd it in contempt? 
 
 Ver. No, by my soul : I never in my life 
 Did hear a challenge urged more modestly, 
 Unless a brother should a brother dare 
 To gentle exercise and proof of arms. 
 He gave you all the duties of a man ; 
 Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue ; 
 Spoke your deservings like a chronicle ; 
 Making you ever better than his praise, 
 By still dispraising praise valued with you : 
 And, which became him like a prince indeed, 
 He made a blushing cital 5 of himself ; 
 And chid his truant youth with such a grace, 
 As if he master'd there a double spirit, 
 Of teaching and of learning instantly. 6 
 There did he pause : but let me tell the world, 
 If he outlive the envy 7 of this day, 
 England did never owe so sweet a hope, 
 
 3 Prince Henry was so surnamed from the town of Monmouth in Wales, 
 where he was born. 
 
 4 Tasking was used for reproof. We still say " he took him to task." 
 
 5 To cite is to quote, allege, or mention any passage or incident. 
 
 6 Instantly has here the sense of at the same time. — Master'd is equiva- 
 lent to was master of. 
 
 7 Here, as usually in old English, envy means malice. — Owe, in the next 
 line, is own. Continually so in Shakespeare. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 75 
 
 So much misconstrued in his wantonness. 
 
 Hot. Cousin, I think thou art enamoured 
 Upon his follies : never did I hear 
 Of any prince so wild o' liberty. 8 
 But be he as he will, yet once ere night 
 I will embrace him with a soldier's arm, 
 That he shall shrink under my courtesy. — 
 Arm, arm with speed : and, fellows, soldiers, friends, 
 Better consider what you have to do 
 Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, 
 Can lift your blood up with persuasion. 9 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, here are letters for you. 
 
 Hot. I cannot read them now. — 
 O gentlemen, the time of life is short ! 
 To spend that shortness basely were too long, 
 If life did ride upon a dial's point, 
 Still ending at th' arrival of an hour. 10 
 An if we live, we live to tread on kings ; 
 If die, brave death, when princes die with us ! 
 Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair, 
 When the intent of bearing them is just. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, prepare ; the King comes on apace. 
 
 8 " So wild of liberty" plainly means using his freedom so wantonly. 
 
 9 A rather strange shaping of language, though not more so than many 
 other passages in Shakespeare. It may be translated something thus : 
 " You can better kindle your spirits to the work by thinking with yourselves 
 what is to be done, than my small power of speech can heat your courage 
 up for the fight by any attempts at persuasion." 
 
 10 The meaning is, that if life were vastly shorter than it is, if it were 
 measured by an hour, it were still too long to be spent basely. 
 
I76 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V. 
 
 Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale, 
 For I profess not talking ; only this, 
 Let each man do his best : and here draw I 
 A sword, whose temper I intend to stain 
 With the best blood that I can meet withal 
 In the adventure of this perilous day. 
 Now, Esperance / n Percy ! and set on. 
 Sound all the lofty instruments of war, 
 And by that music let us all embrace ; 
 For, Heaven to Earth, 12 some of us never shall 
 A second time do such a courtesy. 
 
 \_The trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt 
 
 Scene III. — Plain between the Camps. 
 
 Excursions, and Parties fighting. Alarum to the battle. 
 Then enter Douglas and Sir Walter Blunt, meeting. 
 
 Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus 
 Thou crossest me ? what honour dost thou seek 
 Upon my head ? 
 
 Doug. Know, then, my name is Douglas ; 
 
 And I do haunt thee in the battle thus 
 Because some tell me that thou art a king. 
 
 Blunt. They tell thee true. 
 
 Doug. The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought 
 Thy likeness ; for, instead of thee, King Harry, 
 
 11 Esperance, or Esperanza, was the motto of the Percy family. Espe- 
 ranci is here a word of four syllables. So in Holinshed : " Then suddenlie 
 blew the trumpets, the kings part crieng S. George upon them, the adver- 
 saries cried Esperance, Persie, and so the two armies furiouslie joined." 
 
 12 A wager of Heaven against Earth is probably meant. 
 
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 77 
 
 This sword hath ended him : so shall it thee, 
 Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. 
 
 Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot j 
 And thou shalt find a king that will revenge 
 Lord Stafford's death. [They fight, #«</ Blunt is slain. 
 
 Enter Hotspur. 
 
 Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, 
 I never had triumphed o'er a Scot. 
 
 Doug. All's done, all's won ; here breathless lies the King. 
 
 Hot. Where? 
 
 Doug. Here. 
 
 Hot. This, Douglas ? no ; I know this face full well : 
 A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt ; 
 Semblably furnish'd like the King himself. 
 
 Doug. A fool go with thy soul, where 're it goes ! 
 A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear : 
 Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king ? 
 
 Hot. The King hath many masking in his coats. 
 
 Doug. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats; 
 I'll murder all his wardrobe piece by piece, 
 Until I meet the King. 
 
 Hot. Up, and away ! 
 
 Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. [Exeunt. 
 
 Alamms. Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear 
 the shot here ; here's no scoring but upon the pate. 1 — Soft ! 
 
 1 Falstaff has tavern thoughts and customs running in his mind ; the 
 mode of an inn-keeper's accounts being to score the items either by chalk- 
 marks made upon the wall, or by notches cut in a stick. — There is a pun 
 
I ?8 THE FIRST PART OF ACT Y. 
 
 who are you ? Sir Walter Blunt : there's honour for you ! 
 here's no vanity ! 2 I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy 
 too : God keep lead out of me ! I need no more weight than 
 mine own bowels. I have led my ragamuffins where they 
 are peppered : there's but three of my hundred and fifty left 
 alive ; and they are for the town's end, 3 to beg during life. 
 But who comes here ? 
 
 Enter Prince Henry. 
 
 Prince. What, stand'st thou idle here ? lend me thy sword : 
 Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff 
 Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, 
 Whose deaths as yet are unrevenged : I pr'ythee, 
 Lend me thy sword. 
 
 Fal. O Hal, I pr'ythee, give me leave to breathe awhile. 
 Turk Gregory 4 never did such deeds in arms as I have done 
 this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure. 
 
 Prince. He is, indeed ; and living to kill thee. 
 I pr'ythee, lend me thy sword. 
 
 Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou gett'st 
 not my sword ; but take my pistol, if thou wilt. 
 
 implied in shot-free. Sir John was shot-free at Eastcheap, though not scot- 
 free : here he is scot-free, but not exactly shot-free. It seems likely, from 
 this passage, that in scot the c was soft in the Poet's time, so as to give a pro- 
 nunciation the same as in shot. To pay one's shot is to pay one's score, that 
 is, bill or reckoning, at a tavern ; and to be shot-free is to have one's enter 
 tainment without charge. 
 
 2 The negative, " no vanity," is here used ironically, to indicate the excess 
 of a thing ; a frequent usage in colloquial speech. 
 
 3 The town's end probably means the poor-house ; or perhaps a hospital 
 for war-maimed soldiers. 
 
 4 That is, Pope Gregory the Seventh, called Hildebrand. Fox, in bis 
 Martyrology, had made Gregory so odious that the Protestants would be 
 well pleased to hear him thus characterized, as uniting the attributes of their 
 two great enemies, the Turk and the Pope, in one. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 79 
 
 Prince. Give it me : what, is it in the case ? 
 
 Fal. Ay, Hal. Tis hot, 'tis hot : there's that will sack a 
 city. \The Prince draws out a bottle of sack. 
 
 Prince. What, is't a time to jest and dally now? 
 
 [ Throws it at him, and exit. 
 
 Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. 5 If he do 
 come in my way, so ; if he do not, if I come in his willingly, 
 let him make a carbonado 6 of me. I like not such grinning 
 honour as Sir Walter hath : give me life ; which if I can 
 save, so ; if not, honour comes unlooked for, and there's an 
 end. \_Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. — Another Part of the Field. 
 
 Alarums. Excursions. Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, 
 Lancaster, and Westmoreland. 
 
 King. I pr'ythee, 
 Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much. — 
 Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. 
 
 Lan. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. 
 
 Prince. I do beseech your Majesty, make up, 
 Lest your retirement do amaze * your friends. 
 
 King. I will do so. — 
 My Lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. 
 
 West. Come, my lord, I will lead you to your tent. 
 
 5 "Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him," is addressed to the Prince as 
 he goes out ; the rest of the speech is soliloquy. — It would seem from this, 
 that pierce and the first syllable of Percy were sounded alike. 
 
 6 A carbonado is a piece of meat slashed into stripes for roasting or broil- 
 ing. A piece of pork is commonly carbonadoed on the rind side, to be 
 baked with beans. 
 
 1 Amaze is here used in its original sense of to bewilder or cast into a 
 maze. — Make up has the force of advance, the opposite of retire. 
 
1 80 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V. 
 
 Prince. Lead me, my lord ? I do not need your help : 
 And God forbid, a shallow scratch should drive 
 The Prince of Wales from such a field as this, 
 Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on, 
 And rebels' arms triumph in massacres ! 2 
 
 Lan. We breathe too long : — come, cousin Westmoreland, 
 Our duty this way lies ; for God's sake, come. 
 
 \_Exeunt Lancaster and Westmoreland. 
 
 Prince. By Heaven, thou hast deceived me, Lancaster ; 
 I did not think thee lord of such a spirit : 
 Before, I loved thee as a brother, John ; 
 But now I do respect thee as my soul. 
 
 King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point 
 With lustier maintenance than I did look for 
 Of such an ungrown warrior. 
 
 Prince. O, this boy 
 
 Lends mettle to us all ! [Exit. 
 
 Alarums. Enter Douglas. 
 
 Doug. Another king ! they grow like Hydra's heads : 
 I am the Douglas, fatal to all those 
 That wear those colours on them. — What art thou, 
 That counterfeit'st the person of a king? 
 
 King. The King himself; who, Douglas, grieves at heart, 
 So many of his shadows thou hast met, 
 And not the very King. I have two boys 
 Seek Percy and thyself about the field : 
 
 2 This battle took place in July, 1403, when Prince Henry was but sixteen 
 years old. It appears, however, that, boy as he was, he did the work of a 
 man. Holinshed relates that early in the battle he was hurt in the face 
 with an arrow, insomuch that several tried to withdraw him from the field ; 
 but that he, fearing the effect this might have on his men, insisted on staying 
 with them to the last, and never ceased to fight where the battle was hottest. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. l8l 
 
 But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily, 
 I will assay thee ; so, defend thyself. 
 
 Doug. I fear thou art another counterfeit ; 
 And yet, in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king : 
 But mine I'm sure thou art, whoe'er thou be, 
 And thus I win thee. 3 
 
 \They fight ; the King being in danger, re-enter P. Henry. 
 
 Prince. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like 
 Never to hold it up again ! the spirits 
 Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arm : 
 It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee ; 
 Who never promiseth but he means to pay. — 
 
 [ They fight : Douglas flies. 
 Cheerly, my lord : how fares your Grace ? 
 Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent, 
 And so hath Clifton : I'll to Clifton straight. 
 
 King. Stay, and breathe awhile : 
 Thou hast redeem 'd thy lost opinion ; 4 
 And show'd thou makest some tender of my life, 
 In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me. 
 
 Prince. O God, they did me too much injury 
 That ever said I hearken'd for your death ! 
 If it were so, I might have let alone 
 Th' insulting hand of Douglas over you, 
 
 3 The matter is thus delivered by Holinshed : " This battell lasted three 
 long houres, with indifferent fortune on both parts, till at length the king, 
 crieng saint George, victorie, brake the arraie of his enemies, and adven- 
 tured so farre, that (as some write) the earle Dowglas strake him downe, 
 and at that instant slue sir Walter Blunt and three others, apparalled in the 
 kings sute and clothing, saieng, I marvell to see so many kings thus sud- 
 denlie arise, one in the necke of an other. The king indeed was raised, and 
 did that daie manie a noble feat of armes ; for, as it is written, he slue that 
 daie with his owne hands, six and thirtie persons of his enemies." 
 
 4 Opinion, again, for reputation. See page 1^2, note jq. 
 
1 82 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V. 
 
 Which would have been as speedy in your end 
 As all the poisonous potions in the world, 
 And saved the treacherous labour of your son. 
 
 King. Make up to Clifton : I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey. 
 
 \_Exit. 
 Enter Hotspur. 
 
 Ho . If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. 
 
 Prince. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name. 
 
 Hot. My name is Harry Percy. 
 
 Prince. Why, then I see 
 
 A very valiant rebel of that name. 
 I am the Prince of Wales ; and think not, Percy, 
 To share with me in glory any more : 
 Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere ; 
 Nor can one England brook a double reign, 
 Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales. 
 
 Hot. Nor shall it, Harry ; for the hour is come 
 To end the one of us ; and would to God 
 Thy name in arms were now as great as mine ! 
 
 Prince. I'll make it greater ere I part from thee ; 
 And all the budding honours on thy crest 
 I'll crop, to make a garland for my head. 
 
 Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities. \They fight. 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Eat. Well said, 5 Hal ! to it, Hal ! Nay, you shall find 
 no boy's play here, I can tell you. 
 
 Re-enter Douglas ; he fights with Falstaff, who falls down 
 as if he ivere dead, and exit Douglas. Hotspur is 
 wounded, and falls. 
 
 5 The phrase well said was often used in the sense of well done. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 83 
 
 Hot. O Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth ! 
 I better brook the loss of brittle life 
 Than those proud titles thou hast won of me ; 
 They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my flesh : 
 But thoughts the slaves of life, and life Time's fool, 
 And Time that takes survey of all the world, 
 Must have a stop. 6 O, I could prophesy, 
 But that the earthy and cold hand of death 
 Lies on my tongue : no, Percy, thou art dust, 
 And food for — [Dies. 
 
 Prince. For worms, brave Percy : fare thee well, great 
 heart ! 
 Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk ! 
 When that this body did contain a spirit, 
 A kingdom for it was too small a bound ; 
 But now two paces of the vilest earth 
 Is room enough. This earth that bears thee dead 
 Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. 
 If thou wert sensible of courtesy, 
 I should not make so dear a show of zeal : 
 But let my favours hide thy mangled face ; 7 
 And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself 
 For doing these fair rites of tenderness. 
 Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to Heaven ! 
 
 6 This passage has been commonly misunderstood. Probably the right 
 construction is, to take thoughts, life, and time as subjects of must have. So 
 that the meaning comes thus : " But thoughts, which are the slaves of life, 
 and life, which is Time's fool, and even Time itself, that takes survey of all 
 the world, must have an end." 
 
 7 Favours refers to the scarf with which he covers Percy's face. Cover- 
 ing the face of a dead person is an old ceremony of reverential tenderness ; 
 perhaps connected some way, either as cause or effect, with the ancient be 
 lief that the robins were wont to cover the faces of unburied men. 
 
1 84 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V. 
 
 Thy ignomy 8 sleep with thee in the grave, 
 But not remember'd in thy epitaph ! — 
 
 [Sees Falstaff on the ground. 
 What, old acquaintance ! could not all this flesh 
 Keep in a little life ? Poor Jack, farewell ! 
 I could have better spared a better man : 
 O, I should have a heavy miss of thee, 
 If I were much in love with vanity ! 
 Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day, 
 Though many dearer, in this bloody fray. 
 Embowell'd 9 will I see thee by-and-by : 
 Till then in blood by noble Percy lie. \_Exit. 
 
 Fal. \_Rising7\ Embowell'd ! if thou embowel me to-day, 
 I'll give you leave to powder 10 me and eat me too to-morrow. 
 'Sblood, 'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant 
 Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit ! I lie ; I 
 am no counterfeit : to die, is to be a counterfeit ; for he is 
 but the counterfeit of a man who hath not the life of a man : 
 but to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be 
 no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed. 
 The better part of valour is discretion ; in the which better 
 part I have saved my life. — Zwounds, I am afraid of this gun- 
 powder Percy, though he be dead : how, if he should coun- 
 terfeit too, and rise ? by my faith, I am afraid he would prove 
 the better counterfeit. Therefore I'll make him sure ; yea, 
 and I'll swear I kill'd him. Why may not he rise as well 
 as I ? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. 
 
 8 Ignomy was a common contraction of ignominy. 
 
 9 To embowel was the old term for embalming the body, as was usually 
 done to persons of rank. 
 
 10 To powder was the old word for to salt. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 85 
 
 Therefore, sirrah, with a new wound in your thigh, come you 
 along with me. [Takes Hotspur on his back. 
 
 Re-enter Prince Henry and Lancaster. 
 
 Prince. Come, brother John ; full bravely hast thou flesh'd 
 Thy maiden sword. 
 
 Lan. But, soft ! whom have we here ? 
 
 Did you not tell me this fat man was dead? 
 
 Prince. I did ; I saw him dead, breathless and bleeding 
 Upon the ground. — 
 Art thou alive ? or is it fantasy 
 That plays upon our eyesight ? I pr'ythee, speak ; 
 We will not trust our eyes without our ears : 
 Thou art not what thou seem'st. 
 
 Fal. No, that's certain ; I am not a double man : but if 
 I be not Jack FalstafT, then am. I a Jack. 11 There is Percy ! 
 [Throwing the body down.~\ if your father will do me any 
 honour, so ; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I 
 look to be either earl or duke, I can assure you. 
 
 Prince. Why, Percy I kilPd myself, and saw thee dead. 
 
 Fal. Didst thou? — Lord, Lord, how this world is given 
 to lying ! — I grant you I was down and out of breath ; and 
 so was he : but we rose both at an instant, and fought a long 
 hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be believed, so ; if not, 
 let them that should reward valour bear the sin upon their 
 own heads. I'll take it upon my death, I gave him this 
 wound in the thigh : if the man were alive, and would deny 
 it, zwounds, I would make him eat a piece of my sword. 
 
 Lan. This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard. 
 
 Prince. This is the strangest fellow, brother John. — 
 
 11 fack was used as a term of contempt, like our jackanapes. 
 
1 86 THE FIRST PART OF ACT V. 
 
 Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back : 
 For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, 
 I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have. — 
 
 \_A retreat sounded. 
 The trumpet sounds retreat ; the day is ours. 
 Come, brother, let's to th' highest of the field, 
 To see what friends are living, who are dead. 
 
 [Exeunt Prince Henry and Lancaster. 
 
 Fal. I'll follow, as they say, for reward. He that rewards 
 
 me, God reward him ! If I do grow great, I'll grow less ; 
 
 for I'll purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly as a nobleman 
 
 should do. [Exit, bearing off the body. 
 
 Scene V. — Another Part of the Field. 
 
 The trumpets sound. Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, 
 Lancaster, Westmoreland, and others, with Worcester 
 andYERNON Prisoners. 
 
 Xing. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. — 
 Ill-spirited Worcester ! did we not send grace, 
 Pardon, and terms of love to all of you ? 
 And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary ? 
 Misuse the tenour of thy kinsman's trust ? 
 Three knights upon our party slain to-day, 
 A noble earl, and many a creature else, 
 Had been alive this hour, 
 If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne 
 Betwixt our armies true intelligence. 
 
 Wor. What I have done my safety urged me to ; 
 And I embrace this fortune patiently, 
 Since not to be avoided it falls on me. 
 
SCENE V. KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 1 87 
 
 King. Bear Worcester to the death, and Vernon too : 
 Other offenders we will pause upon. — 
 
 [Exeunt Worcester and Vernon, guarded. 
 How goes the field ? 
 
 Prince. The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw 
 The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, 
 The noble Percy slain, and all his men 
 Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest ; 
 And, falling from a hill, he was so bruised 
 That the pursuers took him. 1 At my tent 
 The Douglas is ; and I beseech your Grace 
 I may dispose of him. 
 
 King. With all my heart. 
 
 Prince. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you 
 This honourable bounty shall belong : 
 Go to the Douglas, and deliver him 
 Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free : 
 His valour, shown upon our crests to-day, 
 Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds 
 Even in the bosom of our adversaries. 
 
 King. Then this remains, that we divide our power. — 
 You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland, 
 Towards York shall bend you with your dearest speed, 
 To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop, 
 Who, as we hear, are busily in arms : 
 Myself, — and you, son Harry, — will towards Wales, 
 To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March. 
 Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, 
 
 1 To conclude, the kings enemies were vanquished and put to flight, in 
 which flight the earle of Dowglas, for hast falling from the crag of an hie 
 mounteine, brake one of his cullions, and was taken, and, for his valiant' 
 nesse, of the king franklie and freelie delivered. — Holinshed. 
 
1 88 KING HENRY IV. PART FIRST. ACT V 
 
 Meeting the check of such another day : 
 And since this business 2 so fair is done, 
 Let us not leave till all our own be won. \_Exeunt. 
 
 2 Business is a trisyllable here, as in various other instances. 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. 
 
 Act i., Scene i. 
 
 P a S e 57« Of prisoners, Hotspur took 
 
 Mordake the Earl of Fife and eldest son 
 
 To beaten Douglas. — The article the, needful to the metre, is 
 wanting in the old copies. Supplied by Pope. 
 
 P. 57. Faith, 'tis a conquest for a prince to boast of — So Rann. In- 
 stead of Faith, 'tis, at the beginning of this speech, the old copies have 
 In faith it is at the conclusion of the preceding speech. 
 
 Act i., Scene 2. 
 
 P. 67. Farewell, thou latter Spring. — The old copies have the in- 
 stead of thou. Corrected by Pope. 
 
 P. 67. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill shall rob those men, 
 &c. — Instead of Bardolph and Peto, the old copies have Harvey and 
 Rossill, which were doubtless the names of the actors who performed 
 those parts. Such substitutions of names are not uncommon in old 
 editions of plays. Corrected by Theobald. 
 
 P. 68. Provide us all things necessary, and meet me to-night in 
 Eastcheap. — So Capell. The old copies read " meet me to-morrow 
 night" which can hardly be right, since the Prince is here directing 
 Pointz to provide the things necessary for the part they are to play in 
 the robbery, such as visards, cases of buckram, &c- ; and the time set 
 for the robbery is " to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, early at 
 Gads-hill." 
 
 P. 68. By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
 
 And vapours that did seem to strangle him. — The old text has 
 
I9O KING HENRY IV. PART FIRST. 
 
 " mists Of vapours." Such an expression, I think, was not good Eng- 
 lish in Shakespeare's time; and we have repeated instances of & mis- 
 printed of. Dyce prints " mists Of vapour" 
 
 Act i., Scene 3. 
 
 P. 69. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, 
 Unapt to stir at these indignities, 
 
 As you have found me ; for, accordingly, &c. — The old text 
 reads "And you have found me." The correction is Lettsom's. 
 
 P. 70. And that same greatness too which our own hands 
 Have holp to make so portly. 
 
 North. My good lord, — 
 
 King. Worcester, get thee gone, for I do see 
 Danger and disobedience in thine eye. — The old text lacks 
 good in Northumberland's speech. The insertion has the joint sanction 
 of Pope, Walker, and Collier's second folio. 
 
 P. 71. Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dressed, 
 
 Fresh as a bridegroom. — So Pope. The old copies read " neat 
 and trimly dress'd." 
 
 P. 71 . I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, 
 
 Out of my grief and my impatience 
 
 To be so pester 'd with a popinjay, 
 
 Answered neglectingly, &c. — So Capell. The old text trans- 
 poses the second and third lines. The correction was proposed by 
 Edwards and Johnson. 
 
 P. 71. He should, or he should not ; for't made me mad 
 
 To see him shine so brisk, &c. — The old text reads " for he 
 made me mad." 
 
 P. 73. Shall we buy treason ? and indent tvith fears? — Hanmer and 
 Collier's second folio read " indent with foes" and rightly, I suspect. 
 It is indeed certain that fears was often put for things or persons feared; 
 still I am apt to think that foes agrees better with the context here. 
 Staunton prints feers, an old word for companion or mate. I cannot 
 see what business such a word should have here. See foot-note 9. 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. I9I 
 
 P. 74. Art not ashamed? But, sirrah, from henceforth 
 
 Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer. — The old copies read 
 " Art thou not asham'd," and lack from, thus totally defeating the 
 rhythm of the line. Lettsom would strike out thou, and take hence- 
 forth as a trisyllable. But I think the Poet nowhere else uses it so. 
 On the other hand, in the first speech of this scene we have " I will 
 from henceforth rather be myself." 
 
 P. 75. Was he not proclaimed 
 
 By Richard that is dead the next of blood? — The old text has 
 " By Richard that dead is," — a very awkward inversion. Walker's 
 correction. 
 
 P. 77. And to your quick -conceiving discontent 
 
 I'll read you matter deep and dangerous. — So Walker. The 
 old text has discontents ; which would be in accordance with the usage 
 of the time in addressing more than one person. But this is addressed 
 to Hotspur only. 
 
 P- 77- If viz fall in, good night, or sink or swim! — The old copies 
 read "If he fall in." Theobald proposed and Hanmer printed we. 
 Heath, also, strongly approves that reading, as nothing precedes to 
 which the pronoun he can refer. 
 
 P. 79. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool 
 
 Art thou, to break into this woman's mood. — So the first quarto. 
 The other old copies have waspe-tongue and waspe-tongu'd. The mean- 
 ing of wasp-stung I take to be, " as fretful and snappish as if stung by 
 Wasps " ; which aptly describes Hotspur's behaviour. Wasp-tongue or 
 wasp-tongued would seem to mean that his speech is waspish, or as 
 stinging and spiteful as a wasp ; which does not suit the occasion so 
 well, though a good sense in itself. 
 
 Act 11., Scene i. 
 
 P. 84. There is ne'er a king in Christendom could be better bit than, 
 &c. — So the folio. The quartos " ne'er a king christen could be," &c. 
 
192 KING HENRY IV. PART FIRST. 
 
 P. 86. But with nobility and tranquillity, burgomasters and great 
 oneyers; such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner than 
 speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than 
 pray. — For tranquillity and great oneyers Collier's second 
 folio substitutes sanguinity and "great ones — yes, such as can," &c. 
 By tranquillity I have always understood persons of leisure, or " at 
 their ease," as Capell explains it ; and I do not see how sanguinity 
 gives any clearei or better sense. " Great oneyers," I take it, are sim- 
 ply what are sometimes called " big bugs " ; — "a cant variation of 
 great ones," says Johnson. Perhaps I ought to add that Theobald 
 substituted " great moneyers " / Hanmer, " great owners " / and Capell, 
 " great mynheers." 
 
 Act il, Scene 2. 
 
 P. 90. Pointz. 0, 'tis our setter : I know his voice. 
 
 Bard. What news ? 
 
 Gads. Case ye, case ye ; on with your visards, &c. — The old 
 copies run the first two of these speeches together into one, thus : " O 
 'tis our Setter, I know his voyce: Bardolfe, what newes? " Here the 
 prefix Bardolfe evidently got printed as a part of the speech. And in 
 the third speech, instead of the prefix Gads., the old copies have Bar. 
 The present arrangement and distribution of the speeches are John- 
 son's. 
 
 P. 93. Away, good Ned. Fat Falstaff sweats to death, 
 
 And lards the lean earth as he walks along. — So Capell. The 
 old text lacks Fat, which is needed both for the metre and for the 
 antithesis with lean. In case of two or more successive words begin- 
 ning with the same letters, one of them is.very apt to drop out. 
 
 Act il, Scene 3. 
 
 P. 95. Of prisoners ransom'd, and of soldiers slain. — The old copies 
 have " prisoners ransome." Capell proposed the correction ; and 
 Walker points out many clear instances of final d and final e con- 
 founded. 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. I93 
 
 P. 95. Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, 
 
 And thou hast so bestirred thee in thy sleep, &c. — Instead of 
 thou hast, the old copies have thus hath. The correction was proposed 
 by Capell ; and Walker says, " Read ' And thou hast,' &c." He 
 seems not to have been aware of Capell's conjecture. 
 
 P. 96. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me 
 
 Directly to this question that I ask. — The old copies read 
 " Directly unto this question." Hardly worth noting, perhaps. 
 
 Act 11., Scene 4. 
 
 P. 98. Ned, pr'ythee, come out of that fat room, &c. — None of the 
 commentators, so far as I know, have satisfactorily explained "fat 
 room." I have hardly any doubt we ought to read " hot room." So, 
 in the last scene of Hamlet, we have " He's fat, and scant of breath "; 
 where I am quite satisfied that hot is the right word. See foot-note 2. 
 
 P. 103. He that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a break- 
 fast, washes his hands, &c. — Here " at a breakfast " apparently means 
 " before breakfast." Dyce says, "An anonymous critic proposes after " 
 I suspect the anonymous proposer is right; as " after breakfast " would 
 accord better with the words, " how many hast thou kill'd to-day ? " 
 
 P. 103. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter ? pitiful- 
 hearted butter, that melted at the sweet tale of the Sun. — The old copies 
 repeat Titan instead of butter ; a palpable error, which, however, 
 Staunton retains. Theobald made the correction. 
 
 P. 107. Thou nott-pated fool, thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow- 
 keech. — The old copies have " knotty-pated '' and " tallow catch. 7 ' 
 The first was corrected by Douce, and the correction is justified by a 
 previous speech in this scene : " Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, 
 crystal button, nott-pated, agate-ring," &c. As to catch, this was prob- 
 ably but another spelling of keech. See foot-note 28. 
 
 P. 108. Away, you starveling, you eel-skin. — So Hanmer, The old 
 text has " el fe- skin" T 
 
194 KING HENRY IV. PART FIRST. 
 
 P. 108. We two saw you four set on four ; you bound them t &c. — 
 The old copies read " and bound them." Corrected by Pope. 
 
 P. 114. For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful Queen. — The old 
 editions have "trustful Queene"; an error which the context easily 
 rectifies. 
 
 P. 117. Banish not him thy Harry's company, banish not him thy 
 Harry's company. — I suspect, with Dyce, that Pope was right in re- 
 jecting the last six words " as an accidental repetition." To my think- 
 ing, the sense is much better every way, without them. 
 
 P. 118. Thou art essentially mad, without seeming so. — All the old 
 copies till the third folio have made instead of mad. 
 
 R 119. Now, my masters, for a true face and a. good conscience. — 
 The last a is wanting in the old copies. Supplied in Collier's second 
 folio. 
 
 P. 1 20. Pointz. Falstaff! — fast asleep behind the arras, &c. — Here, 
 and in the dialogue that follows about Falstaff, the old copies have 
 Peto instead of Pointz. This is clearly wrong, as Pointz is in the 
 Prince's confidence, and Peto is not. And the fact of Pointz having 
 acted with the Prince in the robbery business is conclusive that his 
 name is the right one here. We have the same mistake again near 
 the close of the third Act : " Go, Pointz, to horse, to horse." The 
 correction was made by Johnson, who justly remarks, " What had Peto 
 done, to be trusted with the plot against Falstaff? Pointz has the 
 Prince's confidence, and is a man of courage." 
 
 Act hi., Scene i. 
 
 P. 121. Lord Mortimer, — and cousin Glendower, — will you sii 
 down ? — and uncle Worcester, — a plague upon it ! I have 
 forgot the map. — This and the three following speeches of 
 Hotspur I have no scruple in printing as prose. In the folio, two 
 of them, the first and the fourth, are indeed printed as verse ; and 
 some modern editions give them all in that shape ; but, even after 
 using hardly warrantable liberties with the text, they make them verse 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. 195 
 
 only to the eye. For example, Dyce, in the second speech, changes 
 oft to often, and, in the third, " had but kitten'd " to " had kitten'd," 
 and never to ne'er ; — a pretty bold proceeding at the best, while the 
 result is far from satisfying on the score of metrical harmony. 
 
 P. 122. The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, 
 
 Of burning cressets ; ay, and at my birth 
 
 The frame and huge foundation of the Earth, &c. — So Capell. 
 The old copies are without ay in the second line. Glendower, through- 
 out this scene, is careful of his rhythm and numbers ; and I can hardly 
 think the Poet meant to spot him with so gross a breach in that kind. 
 
 P. 123. The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds 
 
 Were strangely clamorous in the frighted fields. — So Pope. 
 The old text has " clamorous to the frighted fields." I do not under- 
 stand the meaning of to here. 
 
 P. 123. How'scdcptdihe agues, in the Devil's name? — The old copies 
 have scapes instead of 'scaped. Corrected in Collier's second folio. I 
 am not quite sure that the correction ought to pass. 
 
 P. 124. And in my conduct shall your ladies come ; 
 
 From whom you now must steal, and take no leave, 
 Or there will be a world of water shed 
 
 Upon the parting of your wives and you. — So Walker, and, I 
 think, with evident propriety. The old text has For instead of Or. 
 Walker produces several clear instances of the same misprint ; as in 
 Antony and Cleopatra, ii. 7 : " These quicksands, Lepidus, keep off 
 them, for you sink." 
 
 P. 125. And then he runneth straight and evenly. — The old copies 
 have "And then he runnes straight and even." Capell printed "runs 
 straightly and evenly" and is followed by Dyce. Collier's second folio 
 reads " runs all straight and evenly." 
 
 P. 126. I do not care : P 11 give thrice so much land 
 
 To any well-deserving friend. — An octo-syllabic line seems 
 quite out of place here. Hanmer, to cure the defect, printed " As that 
 to any well-deserving friend " ; which, to my sense, is a worse defect 
 
ig6 KING HENRY IV. PART FIRST. 
 
 than the old one of metre. Walker suggests "To any worthy, well- 
 deserving friend " ; but queries, as he well may, whether this would 
 not be a tautology. Still it is much better than Hanmer's. If I were 
 to venture any supplementing of the verse, it would be noble or honest. 
 
 P. 1260 The Moon shines fair ; you may away to-night: 
 
 I'll in and haste the writer, and withal 
 
 Break with your wives, &c. — The words Pll in, which are 
 needful both for sense and metre, are wanting in the old copies, and 
 were proposed by Steevens. 
 
 P. 127. He held me last night at the least nine hours 
 In reckoning up the several devils' names 
 That were his lacqueys : I cried hum, and well, 
 But marked him not a word. — In the first of these lines the 
 old text is without the, and to the third it adds go to, which Pope struck 
 out. Ritson comments upon the addition thus : " These two senseless 
 monosyllables seem to have been added by some foolish player, pur- 
 posely to destroy the metre." 
 
 P. 1 27. 0, he's as tedious 
 
 As is a tirld horse, a railing wife. — So Capell. The old copies 
 lack is in the second line ; an omission not to be endured. 
 
 P. 128. In faith, my lord, you are too wz'^W-blunt. — The old text 
 has " too wilfull blame? Walker says, " Of course, * too wi\M-blunt ' ; 
 and so Johnson suggests." Dyce, however, retains blame, and refers 
 to Nares, who shows that the phrase to blame is a corruption of too 
 blame, which formerly meant too blamable or blameworthy. But it 
 seems to me that the phrase, even so explained, does not yield a fitting 
 sense here. 
 
 P. 128. Good father, tell her she and my aunt Percy 
 
 Shall follow in my conduct speedily. — The old text mars the 
 rhythm by thrusting in the useless word that between her and she. 
 Corrected by Pope. 
 
 P. 129. One no persuasion can do good upon. — Here, again, the 
 metre is spoilt in the old copies by inserting that after One. 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. I97 
 
 P. 129. I understand thy looks : that pretty Welsh 
 
 Which thou pour 'st down from those two swelling heavens 
 I am too perfect in. — So Pope and Lettsom. The old copies 
 read " these swelling heavens." The omission of two untunes the verse 
 utterly. Pope's reading gives just the sense required, meaning, of 
 course, the lady's sky-blue eyes, which seem to grow larger when 
 brightened with tears. 
 
 P. 129. Nay, if you melt, then she will run quite mad. — Here quite 
 is wanting in the old text. Dyce says, " This addition occurred to me 
 before I knew that Capell had inserted it." 
 
 P. 130. An those musicians that shall play to you 
 
 Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence, 
 Yet straight they shall be here. — Instead of An and Yet, at the 
 beginning of the first and third lines, the old copies have And in both 
 places. But an, the old equivalent of if, was very often printed and; 
 and here the word probably got repeated from the first line in the 
 place of Yet. The latter word was substituted by Rowe. 
 
 P. 13I0 Heart, you swear like a comfit-maker 's wife ! Not mine, in 
 good sooth ; and, As true as I live ; &c. — The old copies have you 
 instead of mine; the former having probably crept in by mistake from 
 the line before. Collier's second folio changes you into yours, and 
 Lettsom would substitute /. But, as Hotspur is repeating his wife's 
 oathlets, it appears to me that mine is the right word. 
 
 P. 132. Come, come, Lord Mortimer ; you are as slow 
 As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go. 
 By this our book's drawn ; we'll but seal, and then 
 To horse immediately. 
 
 Mort. With all my heart. — The Poet often 
 
 closes a scene with one or more rhyming couplets. So I strongly sus 
 pect we ought to read here with Collier's second folio : 
 
 By this our book is drawn: we'll seal, zndpavt 
 To horse immediately. 
 Aiort. With all my heart 
 
I98 KING HENRY IV. PART FIRST. 
 
 Act hi., Scene 2. 
 
 P. 133. Such poor, such base, such lewd, such mean attempts. — The 
 old copies have bare instead of base. The two words were often con- 
 founded. Corrected by Rowe. 
 
 P. 133. As, in reproof of many tales devised 
 
 By smiling pick-thanks and base news-mongers, — 
 Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear. — The old text 
 has the second and third of these lines transposed. The correction 
 was proposed by Keightley. 
 
 P. 135. Carded his state, 
 
 Mingled his royalty with capering fools. — So the first quarto. 
 The other old copies have carping instead of capering. For " carded 
 his state " Collier's second folio substitutes " discarded state," and is 
 followed by White ; very unadvisedly, I think. Carded, taken as the 
 word was often used, gives a very fitting sense, namely, " mixed, and 
 debased by mixing." So in Bishop Andrewes' Sermons, quoted by 
 Mr. Arrowsmith : " And these — for that by themselves they will not 
 utter — to mingle and to card with the Apostles' doctrine." See foot- 
 note 13. 
 
 P. 138. 7%' Archbishofs Grace of York, Douglas, and Mortimer 
 Capitulate against us, and are up. — The old text omits and in 
 the first of these lines. Inserted by Rowe. 
 
 P. 138. When I will wear a garment all of blood, 
 
 And stain my favour in a bloody mask. — So Hanmer and 
 Warburton. The old text has favours. The context shows that the 
 Prince means his own face or countenance, and the plural can hardly 
 give that sense. 
 
 P. 139. This, in the name of God, I promise here : 
 
 The which if I perform, and do survive. — So the folio. The 
 quartos read " The which if he be pleas' d I shall performc'* 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. I99 
 
 P. 139. How now, good Blunt ! thy looks are full of speed. 
 
 Blunt. So is the business that I come to speak of — The old 
 copies read " So hath the business." A very palpable error. 
 
 P. 140. On Wednesday next you, Harry, shall set forward ; 
 
 On Thursday we ourselves will march. — The old text reads 
 " On Wednesday next, Harry ; you shall set forward." 
 
 Act hi., Scene 3. 
 
 P. 148. Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, 
 
 My brother John ; this to my Lord of Westmoreland. — 
 
 Go, Pointz, to horse, to horse ; for thou and L 
 
 Have thirty miles to ride ere dinner-time. — 
 
 Meet me to-morrow, Jack, i' the Temple-hall 
 
 At two o'clock in th' afternoon. — In the second of these lines, 
 the old copies have "To my brother John "; in the third, " Go, Peto, 
 to horse "; in the fourth, " to ride yet ere dinner-time"; and in the 
 fifth, " Jack, meet me to-morrow in the Temple-hall." Yet they print 
 the whole speech as verse. Some modern editors print the whole as 
 prose ; and I have been rather slow in coming to the conclusion that 
 they are wrong in doing so. In truth, without the several changes I 
 have noted, the speech is neither fairly verse nor fairly prose, but an 
 awkward and hobbling mixture of the two. Withal, it is quite certain 
 that Peto should be Pointz. See the last of these notes on the second 
 Act, page 194. 
 
 Act iv., Scene i. 
 
 P. 150. His letters bear his mind, not L, my lord. — The first two 
 quartos have "not I my mind''' 1 ; the other old copies, "not I his 
 mind." Corrected by Capell. 
 
 P. 150. He writes me here, that inward sickness — 
 And that his friends by deputation could not 
 So soon be drawn. — The first of these lines is manifestly incom- 
 plete both in sense and in metre ; and I suspect it was purposely left 
 so, as a casual note of Hotspur's impatience and perturbation of mind. 
 Capell, however, printed " that inward sickness holds him." If I were 
 to make any change, it would be "that inward sickness, — and— 
 And," &c. 
 
200 KING HENRY IV. PART FIRST. 
 
 P. 151. Where now remains a sweet reversion; 
 And we may boldly spend upon the hope 
 
 Of what is to come in. — So Capell. The old copies are with- 
 out And in the second line. "That this speech is mutilated, there can 
 be little doubt," says Dyce. 
 
 P. 152. That shows the ignorant a kind of fear 
 Before not dreamt of 
 
 Hot. Nay, you strain too far. — The old text 
 
 is without Nay ; and possibly the verse was not meant to be complete. 
 Capell reads "Come, you strain too far." 
 
 P. 153. There is not such a word 
 
 Spoken in Scotland as this term of fear. — Instead of Spoken, 
 the old text has Spoke of. The correction is Lettsom's. I question 
 whether it was ever English to use spoke ofzs an equivalent for spoken. 
 
 P. 153. The King himself in person is set forth, 
 
 Or hitherwards intendeth speedily. — So Collier's second folio. 
 The old text has intended. An easy misprint. 
 
 P. 153. And his comrddes, that daff the world aside, 
 
 And bid it pass. — So Dyce ; and notes upon the text as fol- 
 lows : " Here daft of the old editions is a present tense, merely a cor- 
 rupt spelling of doff. — Formerly, to words ending with f it was not 
 unusual to add a t." 
 
 P. 153. All plumed like estridges that with the wind 
 
 Bate it ; like eagles having lately bathed. — So the old copies, 
 except that they have Bated instead of Bate it, and lack the ( ; ) after 
 Bated. The change was lately proposed by Professor Hiram Corson, 
 of Cornell University, and is fully justified from the conditions of the 
 passage, and by ancient usage. — Rowe printed " like estridges that 
 wing the wind ; Bated like eagles ; " &c. ; and is followed by several 
 editors, Staunton, White, and Dyce among them ; in deference to whom 
 I once gave up the old reading : but I now return to it in full confi- 
 dence under the better advice of Mr. A. E. Brae, who justly notes it 
 as " perfectly legitimate " to take bated with as equivalent to struggled 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. 201 
 
 against. The only difficulty I can see in the text arises from the cir- 
 cumstance of the verb being in the past tense, where it should prop- 
 erly be in the present, bate. But this, I think, is fairly obviated by 
 reading bate it. See foot-note 18. 
 
 P. 154. / saw young Harry — with his beaver on — 
 
 Rise from the ground like feather 'd Mercury, 
 
 And vault it with such ease into his seat, &c. — The old text has 
 vaulted ; an instance something like that remarked in the preceding 
 note ; where vault would obviously be more proper. For the sake of 
 grammatical accuracy, Capell printed " And vault with such an ease." 
 The reading in the text was suggested by Malone, but occurred to me 
 independently. 
 
 P. 155. Harry and Harry shall, hot horse to horse, 
 
 Meet, and ne'er part till one drop down a corse. — The old 
 copies read " Harry to Harry shall." To speak of one person as meet- 
 ing to another, is not English, and, I think, never was. The correction 
 is Lettsom's. 
 
 Act iv., Scene 2. 
 
 P. 156. We'' II to Sutton-Co'hl' to-night. — So the Cambridge Editors 
 and Dyce, who are doubtless well-booked in the particulars of English 
 geography and nomenclature. The old text has " Sutton-cophill. " See 
 foot-note 1. 
 
 P. 157. / press'd me none but good householders, yeomen's sons, in- 
 quired me out, &c. — Instead of press'd and inquired, the old text has 
 presse and inquire. But the context leaves no doubt that those verbs 
 should be in the past tense. 
 
 P. 157. Slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the 
 glutton's dogs lick his sores. — The old copies have licked. 
 
 P. 158. There's but a shirt and a half in all my company ; and the 
 half-shirt is two napkins, &c. — The old copies read "There's not a 
 shirt and a half." But and not were often misprinted for each other : 
 still I am not sure but the change meddles too much with Falstaff s 
 idiom. 
 
202 KING HENRY IV. PART FIRST. 
 
 Act iv., Scene 3. 
 
 P. 160. You speak it out of fear and cold heart. — We have here an 
 unpleasant breach of prosody, or what seems such. White, however, 
 takes fear as a dissyllable. Pope printed " out of fear, and from cold 
 heart." Collier's second folio has " fear and a cold heart." I think 
 it would not be un-Shakespearian to read " fear and cold of heart." 
 
 P. 160. I hold as little counsel with weak fear 
 
 As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives. — So Pope. The old 
 text reads " any Scot that this day lives." It is hardly credible that 
 the Poet would have thus damaged his verse and weakened his sense 
 at the same time. 
 
 P. 160. That not a horse is half the half himself — So Steevens. 
 The old copies have "half the half of himself"; which Pope changed 
 to " half half of himself." 
 
 P. 162. To sue his livery and beg his peace. 
 
 With tears of innocence and terms of zeal. — The old text has 
 innocency. The two forms were often confounded. 
 
 P. 164. And withal to pry 
 
 Into his title, the which now we find 
 
 Too indirect for long continuance. — So Dyce. The old copies 
 are without now in the second of these lines. Of course the word has 
 been inserted, to repair the metre ; yet it can hardly be said to make 
 the line rhythmical. 
 
 Act v., Scene i. 
 
 P. 167. You have not sought it ! why, how comes it, then ? — The old 
 text is without why. The gap thus left in the verse has sometimes 
 been filled up with well. I think why accords better with the tone of 
 the speech. 
 
 P. 168. And, being fed by us, you used us so 
 As that ungentle gull, tke cuckoo-foV</, 
 
 Useth the sparrow.— So Walker. The old text has "Cuckowes 
 Bird." 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. 203 
 
 P. 171. So tell your cousin, and'CatXi bring me word 
 
 What he will do. — So Capell. The old copies lack then. 
 
 P. 171. What is honour? a word. What is that word honour? 
 air. — So the folio. The first three quartos read " What is in that 
 word, honour ? What is that honour ? Air." 
 
 Act v., Scene 2. 
 
 P. 172. Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes. — The old 
 copies have Supposition. Corrected by Rowe. As Alexandrines are 
 rare in this play, much effort has been made, to get rid of two syllables 
 here. 
 
 P. 1 73. All his offences lie upon my head 
 
 And on his father's. — The old text has live instead of lie. The 
 two words were often confounded, as Walker abundantly shows. 
 
 P. 1 73. Marry, I shall, and very willingly. — So Pope. The old 
 copies read " Marry and shall." 
 
 P. 173. Which he mended thus, 
 
 By new '-for swearing that he is forsworn. — The old text has 
 " By now forswearing." Corrected by Walker ; who produces many 
 like instances of new and now confounded. 
 
 P. 175. Cousin, I think thou art enamoured 
 Upon his follies : never did I hear 
 
 Of any prince so wild a* liberty. — In the second line, the old 
 copies have On instead of Upon. In the third line, the quartos have 
 " wilde a liberty," the folio, " wilde at liberty." We find almost num- 
 berless instances of a printed for o\ " Wild of liberty " means " wild 
 in respect of liberty," — a frequent usage. Dyce, following Capell, 
 prints " so wild a libertine," which seems to me rather strange. 
 
 Act v., Scene 3. 
 
 P. 176. What is thy name, that in the battle thus 
 
 Thou crossest me ? — So Hamner. The old copies omit the. 
 
204 KING HENRY IV. PART FIRST. 
 
 P. 177. A fool go with thy soul where're it goes. — So Capell. The 
 old copies have " whither it goes." Both sense and metre favour the 
 change. 
 
 P. 177. The King hath many masking in his coats. — The old text 
 has marching instead of masking, which is from Collier's second folio; 
 a very happy correction. 
 
 P. 1 78. There'' s but three of my hundred and fifty left alive. — Here, 
 again, the old copies have not instead of but. See note on " There's 
 but a shirt and a half," &c, page 201. 
 
 P. 178. Whose deaths as yet are unrevenged : I pr'yihee 
 
 Lend me thy sword. — Instead of as yet are, the old copies have 
 are yet, and are. Corrected by Dyce. 
 
 Act v., Scene 4. 
 
 P. 1 79. / do beseech your Majesty, make up. — So Pope and Collier's 
 second folio. The old copies omit do. 
 
 P. 181. The spirits 
 
 Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arm. — The old 
 text has " are in my armes." Pope reduced the line from an Alexan- 
 drine to a regular verse by omitting valiant. 
 
 P. 183. They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my flesh : 
 But thoughts the slaves of life, and life Time's fool, 
 And Time that takes survey of all the world, 
 Must have a stop. — So the first quarto. The other old copies 
 have " But thought's the slave of Life." Lettsom notes upon the pas- 
 sage thus : " The readings of the second quarto are sophistications by 
 one who did not see that thoughts as well as time were nominative 
 cases before must have, and consequently supposed that the syntax was 
 defective for want of a verb." — I suspect we ought to read thought and 
 slave instead of thoughts and slaves. — See foot-note 6. 
 
 P. 185. I did ; I saw him dead, breathless and bleeding 
 
 Upon the ground. — Here, again, the old text has On instead 
 of upon t which is Capell' s reading. 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. 205 
 
 Act v., Scene 5. 
 
 P. 186. Since not to be avoided it falls on me. — I suspect we ought 
 to read, with Collier's second folio, " Which not to be avoided falls on 
 me." 
 
 P. 187. Even in the bosom of our adversaries. — After this line, the 
 first four quartos put the following speech into the mouth of Lancaster : 
 
 I thank your Grace for this high courtesy, 
 Which I shall give away immediately. 
 
 This comes pretty near being absurd ; for it makes the Prince say he 
 will give away the courtesy. 
 
JUL 24 1908