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Fal. No: I'll give thee thy due; thou hast paid all there.

P. Hen. 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,-But, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king, and resolution thus fobbed, as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antick, the law? Do not thou, when thou art a king, hang a thief.

P. Hen. No: thou shalt.

Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.

P. Hen. 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 with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.

P. Hen. For obtaining of suits?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged bear.

P. Hen. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute.

FAL. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. || better than one of the wicked. I must give over P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similies; and art, indeed, the most comparative, rascallest, sweet young prince.-But, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble ne 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 marked him not: and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded him not: and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too.

P. Hen. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.

Fal. O! thou hast damnable iteration, 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

this life, and I will give it over; by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain: I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

P. Hen. 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. P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying, to purse-taking.

Enter POINS, at a distance.

Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal: 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins!Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match.O! if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent villain, that ever cried, Stand! to

a true man.

P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned.

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WITH

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.

GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THIS PLAY, AND ITS INFLUENCE-NOT A DRAMATIZED HISTORY, BUT AN HISTORIC TRAGI-COMEDY-ITS COMIC INVENTION-ITS DEVIATIONS FROM CHRONOLOGICAL AND HISTORICAL ACCURACY, AND PRESERVATION OF THE HISTORICAL SPIRIT-DATES OF COMPOSITION AND PUBLICATION-DICTION AND VERSIFICATION-STATE OF THE TEXT, ETC. ITH all sorts of readers and spectators this is the greatest favourite of the whole of Shakespeare's English Histories, and indeed is perhaps the most popular of all dramatic compositions in the language. The popularity of this play has extended itself to the other Histories with which it is connected, until it has made them all nearly as familiarly known as itself. It is probably owing quite as much to Falstaff and to Hotspur as to the several merits of the other histories-great as they are, though in very different degrees-that this whole dramatic series of Histories have been mixed up with all our recollections and impressions of the Wars of York and Lancaster, and finally become substituted in the popular mind for all other history of the period. Thus it is to this play that the great majority of those at all familiar with old English history, in its substantial reality, not as a meagre chronological abridgment of names and events, but exhibiting the men and deeds of the times, are indebted generally for their earliest and always their most vivid, impressive, and true conceptions of England's feudal ages. Of the ten plays of this historic series, the first part of HENRY IV. is the most brilliant and various, and, therefore, the most attractive; while it is substantially as true as any of the rest in its historical instruction,-although it is neither a dramatized chronicle in the old fashion, nor yet a strictly historical drama in the sense in which it has been endeavoured to show that RICHARD II. and JULIUS CESAR are preeminently indebted to that appellation,-as presenting only historical personages and great public events with the condensed effect and sustained feeling of dramatic unity and interest.

AS KING JOHN and ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA exhibit the transition of the historic drama proper into the more poetic form of historic tragedy, so the two parts of HENRY IV., and especially this first part, which is as a drama complete in itself, without its sequel, must be regarded as a splendid and varied historic tragi-comedy;-historic in its personages and its spirit, yet blending the high heroic poetry of chivalry with the most original inventions of broad comic humour.

The principal events of Henry the Fourth's reign are rapidly presented in this play and its sequel; so that we are made familiar with the King's cold policy and his talent, the rebellions against him and his triumphs over them But all this is so presented as to be subservient to the main object of interest, and to conduce to that unity of effect which distinguishes a work of dramatic art from the chronicle or story thrown into dialogue. That main central interest is, of course, the remarkable story-now familiar to young and old through this play, and as familiar before it in the Poet's times by traditional anecdote and by rude theatrical representation-of youthful Harry Monmouth's "unyoked humours and loose behaviour," and of his heroic "reformation glittering o'er his fault," when his noble nature emerged from its eclipse, no longer permitting

-the base contagious clouds To smother up its beauty from the world.

The character of the reformed rake, in its coarsest form, has always something of interest in it, as it addresses the sympathies alike of the frailer and the better parts of human nature; but here the fascination of the character is far stronger when it is not the mere sobering down of vulgar debauchery that addresses these sympathies, but the gay and witty youth of idle pleasure passing at once into wise counsel, magnanimous sentiment, and heroic action. The first part of the Prince's character, and the traditionary associations that belonged to it, at once suggested and demanded the comic portion of the drama. In surrounding him with the companions and the subjects of his amusements and pleasures, the Poet's own rare knowledge of life must have readily supplied him with living models of fit personages, and they rush on the scene in a joyous crowd-Bardolph, Pistol, Peto, and the more gentlemanly Poins, with Dame Quickly and the rest. Yet it would be but a dull and vulgar mind that could long

find enjoyment in such associates alone. The Poet saw that it was necessary to preserve his young hero from intellectual degradation without raising the moral tone of his associations, and the inimitable Falstaff appeared as the lord of the mirthful scene. In one sense, Falstaff is strictly an historic personage; for the Poet must have felt, what all must see by his light, that the dissolute pleasures and idle humours of a young prince of ardent ambition, high thoughts, and eminent talent, such as Henry the Fifth afterwards approved himself, would soon cease to have any charms for him without the companionship of wit and talent as well as sheer profligacy. There can be no question that the real Harry of Monmouth must have had about him profligates resembling Falstaff in the sort of entertainment they afforded this prince, however inferior to Shakespeare's "villainous, abominable misleader of youth," either in intellect or in bulk. In a more literal sense, he is the most original as well as the most real of all comic creations-a character of which many traits and peculiarities must have been gleaned, as their air of reality testifies, from the observation of actual life; and yet, with all his tangible and ponderous reality, as much a creature of the Poet's "forgetive" fancy as the delicate Ariel himself. In his peculiar originality, Falstaff is to be classed only with the Poet's own Hamlet and the Spanish Don Quixote, as all of them personages utterly unlike any of those whom we have known or heard of in actual life, who at the same time so impress us with their truth that we inquire into and argue about their actions, motives, and qualities, as we do in respect to living persons whose anomalies of conduct perplex observers. Thus Falstaff's cowardice or courage, as well as other points of his character, have been as fruitful subjects for discussion as the degree and nature of Hamlet's or Don Quixote's mental aberration.

Thus it is that all the comic side of this drama, while it is of the boldest and gayest invention, is throughou impregnated with the very spirit of history, as exhibiting the very form and tone of such a society as Harry of Monmouth must have revelled in when he and his comrades “doff'd the world aside and bade it pass," and when, to use old Hollingshed's humbler prose, "he passed his youth in wanton pastime and riotous misorder with a sort of mis-governed mates and unthrifty play-feers."

On the other side of the varied and animated picture, Shakespeare has brought out the Prince's heroic character, by a bold and free paraphrase of his actual history, giving him a maturer age than he had in fact at the battle of Shrewsbury, and there making "the child of honour and renown-the gallant Hotspur, that all-praised Knight,” render "all his glory up" to his youthful rival, "the unthought-of Harry." Hotspur, on the other hand, who is recorded by the chroniclers to have been of the same age with Henry IV. himself, is thrown back to the Prince's own age, with such admirable poetic and moral effect, that he must be a very bigoted worshipper of chronological and biographical accuracy, who can object to the alteration of the record. Percy, in the old historians, has little to distinguish him from the other warlike, brave, and turbulent barons described by Froissart and the chroniclers. His personal valour, his military activity, his resentment of the King's ingratitude, his rebellion and death, are all historical; but history gives us no more of him. The Poet has placed him in a living and brilliant contrast to the other "young Harry," and made him the very Achilles of feudal chivalry. So striking and impressive are the individuality and life of the character, that it has been suggested that the Poet had the aid of traditionary knowledge to fill up the meagre outline of the chroniclers. It may be so; but I rather think that he drew the young baron from his personal observation of some of the more conspicuous men of that class, and has thus given us, if not the precise historical portrait of the very Harry Percy, a very true and living portrait of the higher minds of his class and order, under the influence of feudal manners and ideas, individualized by some personal peculiarities, (such as the "speaking thick," and many others,) to aid in the dramatic illusion. Indeed, I have been recently struck with the strong resemblance of the dramatic Hotspur to the character of one of the Poet's own contemporaries, Charles Gontaut-Biron, as it is given by the contemporary French writers. (See Capefigue's Hist. Ref. Henri IV.) They describe him as the very counterpart of Hotspur, in impetuous bluntness, unwearied activity of mind and body, courage, ambition, generosity, and even in horsemanship. Like his English counterpart, he had helped to elevate to the throne his own Henry IV., who repaid him with ingratitude and death. The parallel is so perfect, that I had almost thought that the Poet had these contemporary circumstances in his mind; for, though occurring in another kingdom, they must have been well known as the familiar news of the times. Had this play been written a few years later, it would not be easy to refute the conjecture. But the judicial murder of Marshal Biron occurred in 1602, and this play had been printed four years before. I therefore mention this parallel, not only as a curious coincidence, but as confirming the wonderful general truth of this strongly individualized character. Glendower and the other personages are also historic names, embodied in forms of the Poet's creation, and most true to the spirit of their age. (See note on Glendower, act iii. scene 1.)

Of all the strictly historical personages of this first part, Henry IV. himself, alone, seems drawn entirely and scrupulously from historical authority; and his is a portrait rivalling, in truth and discrimination, the happiest delineations of Plutarch or of Tacitus. He is contrasted alike to the frailties and to the virtues of his son; his talent, and the dignity with which it invests his cold and crafty policy, the absence of all nobler sentiment from the sagacious worldly wisdom of his counsels and opinions, his gloom, melancholy and anxiety,—all combine to form a portrait of a great and unhappy statesman, as true and as characteristic, though not as dark, as Tacitus has left us of Tiberius.

Thus has been produced a drama historical in the highest sense of the term, as being imbued throughout, penetrated with the spirit of the times, and of the men and scenes it represents; while in a more popular sense of the epithet historical, it is so chiefly in its subjects and main incidents. Though boldly deviating from chronological exactness, and freely blending pure invention with recorded facts, yet in all this the author neither designs nor effects any real distortion of history; but while he impresses upon the bare succession of events the unity of feeling and pur

pose required for dramatic interest, he converts the dead, cold record of past occurrences into the very tragi-comedy which those occurrences must have exhibited as they arose, and thus reflects "the very age and body of those times, their form and pressure."

In

Meares, in his "Tamia," in the list of Shakespeare's works before 1598, mentions HENRY IV. Whether he referred to both parts or not, cannot be ascertained; but at least the first part must have been then meant. deed, in another page, he quotes Falstaff's “There is nothing but roguery in villainous man." This play was first entered in the Stationers' Register for copyright, or what was then analogous to it, on the 25th of February, 1597, which was the beginning of our February, 1598, the year then ending on the 25th of March. It was shortly after published with this title:-"The History of Henrie the Fovrth; With the battell at Shrewsburie, betweene the King and Lord Henry Percy, surnamed Henrie Hotspur of the North. With the humorous conceits of Sir John Falstaffe." It appeared again in the next year, with the author's name, as "newly corrected by W. Shakespeare;" but the only change of any note is that of Falstaffe into Falstaffe. It appears to have been very popular, as five separate editions were printed, (1598, 1599, 1604, 1608, and 1613,) before it appeared in the folio collection. As the name of Falstaff, though differently spelled, appears in the very first edition, which character, there is good reason to believe, (see note on "old lad of the castle," act i. scene 2,) had originally borne the name of Oldcastle, this would indicate that the play had been some time before in representation, and must have been written before 1597. Mr. Halliwell has lately placed the date of its composition as early as 1593, as Chalmers had done in 1596, and Malone in 1597. The external evidence on which these dates have been assumed, amounts to almost nothing. The internal indications of language and versification, I think, are decidedly against the earliest date, which would place its composition in the author's twenty-eighth year; and as decidedly in support of the later date, which makes this play nearly contemporary with, or probably a little preceding, the MERCHANT OF VENICE, which was entered for publication a few months after this.

In its poetic diction, and general taste and cadence of verse, it is much nearer to the poetic portion of the comedies known to have been produced by him during the last four or five years of the sixteenth century, than it does to those of any of his earlier works. And these characteristics of style are sustained uniformly, as it appears to have been struck out at once in the very form it now bears; for it has not, like ROMEO AND JULIET, and the MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM, the vestiges of an earlier style and manner, placed beside the products of his more matured judgment. The corrections mentioned in the title-pages of the quartos, seem to have been little more than the changes of Falstaff's name. This is confirmed by the fact that the text of this play is found, in the main, in its purest form, in the very first edition, as Mr. Collier's accurate collation has satisfactorily shown. That text is generally followed, in the present edition, though there are many slight variations in the old copies, some of which have been here preferred. Where these variations affect the sense, they are stated in the notes, with the reasons of the preference. There are some smaller discrepancies, where what seemed most probable has been selected, without encumbering the notes with the contending readings and authorities.

ARCHITECTURE AND COSTUME.

The architectural views and scenes, in this edition of the two parts of HENRY IV., (chiefly from Knight's pictorial edition,) are either from old prints or drawings, or are restorations of ancient architectural remains still existing. They are all from the most authentic sources, and are illustrative of the manners, as well as the civil, religious, and domestic architecture of the times of the drama. Both these and the representations of personal costume, as has been before suggested, have a use and interest in these English historical plays, much above those of the other plays, where the scene is laid in ancient Rome or Greece, or in contemporary Italy. For those, however valuable to the artist, formed no part of the Poet's own ideal conception of his scene; while these old English costumes and scenes embody the very forms in which the Poet's dramatic creations must have presented themselves to his imagination. We add the substance of Mr. Planché's comments on the personal costume, armour, etc., of the age of the first and second parts of HENRY IV. :

"The fashions of the reign of Richard II. underwent little if any variation, during that of Henry IV.

To begin with the king; the effigy of Henry, in Canterbury Cathedral, is one of the most magnificent of the series of royal monuments. The king is represented in his robes of state, consisting of a long tunic, with pocket holes richly embroidered, as are also the borders of the sleeves. Over his shoulders is a cape which descends in front low enough to cover the girdle. The inner tunic has a rolling collar sitting close up into the neck. The mantle, with a broad edging of embroidery, is connected not only by cords and tassels, but by a splendidly jewelled band, passing over the chest. The face has beard and moustaches, but no hair is visible on the head, it being cropped all round excessively short,-a fashion which commenced towards the close of his reign. The crown is very large and most tastefully ornamented, and may have been a faithful representation of the great Harry Crown,' which was broken up by Henry V., and pawned in pieces, (A. D. 1415,) to raise moneys for the expenses of the French

war.

"Of Henry, Prince of Wales, there are two representations. One in a copy of Occleve's Poems,' in the British Museum, in which the poet is depicted presenting a copy of his Reginine Principis' to the prince, who is dressed in a pink robe, and wears a peculiarly shaped coronet on his head. The other is a painting by Vertue, copied from some other illuminated manuscript, also representing that poet offering a book to the prince. The prince is therein habited in a long blue robe, with the extravagantly long sweeping-sleeves of the period, lined with ermine, and escallopped at the edges.

"The decoration of the collar (SS.') first appears during this reign; but of the derivation we have still no precise information. The most plausible conjecture is that it was formed of the repetition of the initial letter of Henry IV.'s word or device, 'Souveraine;' which appears also to have been that of his father, John of Gaunt. The collar

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