Act V Scene I — France in the Neighbourhood of Troyes
Enter Fluellen and Gower, L.H.
Gow. Nay, that’s right; but why wear you your leek today? Saint Davy’s day is past.
Flu. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things: I will tell you, as my friend, Captain Gower: the rascally, scald, beggarly, lowsy, pragging knave, Pistol,—he is come to me, and prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and pid me eat my leek: it was in a place where I could not preed no contentions with him; but I will be so pold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.
Enter Pistol, R.H.
Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
Flu. ’Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks.—Heaven pless you, ancient Pistol! you scurvy, lowsy knave, Heaven pless you!
Pist. Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan,
To have me fold up Parca’s fatal web?1
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
Crosses to L.H.
Flu. I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lowsy knave, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you, this leek: because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections, and your appetites, and your digestions, does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.
Pist. crosses to R.H. Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.
Flu. There is one goat for you. Strikes him. Will you be so goot, scald knave, as eat it?
Pist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die.
Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when Heaven’s will is: I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat your victuals: come, there is sauce for it. Striking him again. You called me yesterday mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a squire of low degree.2 I pray you, fall to: if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek.
Gow. Enough, captain: you have astonished him.3
Flu. I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will peat his pate four days.—Pite, I pray you; it is goot for you.
Pist. Must I bite?
Flu. Yes, certainly, and out of doubt, and out of questions too, and ambiguities.
Pist. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge: I eat, and eke I swear——
Flu. Eat, I pray you: Will you have some more sauce to your leek? there is not enough leek to swear by.
Pist. Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat.
Flu. Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, ’pray you, throw none away; the skin is goot for your proken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at them; that is all.
Pist. Good.
Flu. Ay, leeks is goot:—Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate.
Pist. Me a groat!
Flu. Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take it; or I have another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat.
Pist. I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.
Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in cudgels. Heaven be wi’ you, and keep you, and heal your pate.
Exit L.H.
Pist. crosses to L.H. All hell shall stir for this.
Crosses to R.H.
Gow. Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock at an ancient tradition,—begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour,—and dare not avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking4 and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could not therefore handle an English cudgel: you find it otherwise; and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English condition.5 Fare ye well.
Exit, L.H.
Pist. Doth fortune play the huswife6 with me now?
Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs
Honour is cudgell’d.
To England will I steal:
And patches will I get unto these scars,
And swear, I got them in the Gallia wars.
Exit, R.H.
Scene II — Interior of the Cathedral at Troyes in Champagne
Trumpets sound. Enter, at one door, U.E.L.H., King Henry,(A) Bedford, Gloster, Exeter, Warwick, Westmoreland, and other Lords; at another, U.E.R.H., the French King, Queen Isabel, the Princess Katharine,7(B) Lords, Ladies, &c., the Duke of Burgundy, and his Train. The two parties, French and English, are divided by barriers.
K. Hen. (L.C.) Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met!8
Unto our brother France,—and to our sister,
Health and fair time of day;—joy and good wishes
To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine;
And (as a branch and member of this royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contriv’d,)
We do salute you, duke of Burgundy;—
And, princes French, and peers, health to you all!
All the French party bow to King Henry.
Fr. King. (R.C.) Right joyous are we to behold your face,
Most worthy brother England; fairly met:—
So are you, princes English, every one.
Q. Isa. R. of F. King. So happy be the issue, brother England,
Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting,
As we are now glad to behold your eyes;
Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them
Against the French, that met them in their bent,
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks:9
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,
Have lost their quality; and that this day
Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.
K. Hen. To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
Q.Isa. You English princes all, I do salute you.
All the English party bow to Queen Isabella.
Bur. (R.) My duty to you both, on equal love,
Great kings of France and England!
Let it not disgrace me,
If I demand, before this royal view,
What rub or what impediment there is,
Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births,
Should not, in this best garden of the world,
Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage?
K. Hen. If, duke of Burgundy, you would the peace,
Which you have cited, you must buy that peace
With full accord to all our just demands;
Whose tenours and particular effects
You have, enschedul’d briefly, in your hands.
Fr. King. I have but with a cursorary eye
O’er-glanc’d the articles: pleaseth your grace
To appoint some of your council presently
To sit with us once more, with better heed
To re-survey them, we will suddenly
Pass our accept and peremptory answer.10
K. Hen. Brother, we shall.—Go, uncle Exeter,—
And brother Bedford,—and you, brother Gloster,—
Warwick,—and Huntingdon,—go with the king;
And take with you free power, to ratify,
Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best
Shall see advantageable for our dignity,
And we’ll consign thereto.—
Barriers removed. The English Lords, Exeter, Bedford, Gloster, Warwick, and Huntingdon, cross to the King of France, and exeunt afterwards with him.
Will you, fair sister,
Go with the princes, or stay here with us?
Q. Isa. Our gracious brother, I will go with them:
Haply a woman’s voice may do some good,
When articles too nicely urg’d be stood on.
K. Hen. Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us:
She is our capital demand, compris’d
Within the fore rank of our articles.
Q. Isa. She hath good leave.
Trumpets sound.
Exeunt all through gates, L.E.R. and L., but Henry, Katharine, and her Gentlewomen.
K. Hen. (L.C.)
Fair Katharine, and most fair!
Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms,
Such as will enter at a lady’s ear,
And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
Kath. (R.C.) Votre majesté shall mock at me; I cannot speak votre Anglais.
K. Hen. O fair Katharine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?
Kath. Pardonnez moi, I cannot tell vat is—like me.
K. Hen. An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.
Kath. Que dit-il? que je suis semblable aux anges?
K. Hen. I said so, dear Katharine; and I must not blush to affirm it.
Kath. O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies.
K. Hen. What say you, fair one?
Kath. Dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits.
K. Hen. I’faith, Kate. I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say—I love you: then, if you urge me further than to say—Do you in faith? I wear out my suit. Give me your answer; i’faith, do; and so clap hands and a bargain: How say you, lady?
Kath. Me understand well.
K. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to verses or to dance for your sake, Kate, why you undid me. If I could win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour on my back, under the correction of bragging, be it spoken, I should quickly leap into a wife. But, before Heaven, I cannot look greenly,11 nor gasp out my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I never use till urged, nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sun-burning, that never looks in his glass for love of any thing he sees there, let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier: If thou canst love me for this, take me; if not, to say to thee—that I shall die, is true, but—for thy love, by the lord, no; yet I love thee too. And while thou livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined constancy;12 for a good leg will fall;13 a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curled pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow: but a good heart,
Kate, is the sun and moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon, for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would have such a one, take me: And take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king: And what sayest thou, then, to my love? speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.
Kath. Est il possible dat I should love de enemy de la France?
K. Hen. No; it is not possible you should love the enemy of France, Kate: but, in loving me, you should love the friend of France; for I love France so well, that I will not part with a village of it; I will have it all mine: and, Kate, when France is mine, and I am yours, then yours is France, and you are mine.
Kath. Vat is dat?
K. Hen. Kate, dost thou understand thus much English? Canst thou love me?
Kath. I cannot tell.
K. Hen. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I’ll ask them. Come, I know thou lovest me: and at night, when you come into your closet, you’ll question this gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you love with your heart. If ever thou be’st mine, Kate, (as I have a saving faith within me, tells me,—thou shalt,) shall there not be a boy compounded between Saint Dennis and Saint George, half French, half English, that shall go to Constantinople14 and take the Turk by the beard? shall he not? what sayest thou, my fair flower-de-luce? How answer you, la plus belle Katharine du monde, mon très chère et divine déesse?
Kath. Votre majesté ’ave fausse French enough to deceive la plus sage damoiselle dat is en France.
K. Hen. Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate: by which honour I dare not swear thou lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempting effect of my visage. But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear: my comfort is, that old age, that ill layer-up of beauty, can do no more spoil upon my face: thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better: And therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, will you have me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress; take me by the hand, and say—Harry of England, I am thine: which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud—England is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet is thine; who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your answer in broken musick, for thy voice is musick, and thy English broken; therefore, queen of all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken English, Wilt thou have me?
Kath. Dat is as it shall please le roi mon père.
K. Hen. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, Kate.
Kath. Den it shall also content me.
K. Hen. Upon that I will kiss your hand, and I call you—my queen.
Kath. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez.
K. Hen. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.
Kath. Dat is not be de fashion pour les dames de la France.
K. Hen. O Kate, nice customs curt’sy to great kings. We are the makers of manners, Kate; therefore, patiently, and yielding. Kisses her. You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the French council; and they should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs. Trumpets sound. Here comes your father.
The centre gates are thrown open, and
Re-enter the French King and Queen, Burgundy, Bedford, Gloster, Exeter, Westmoreland. The other French and English Lords as before, U.E.R. and L.
Bur. (R.) My royal cousin, teach you our princess English?
K. Hen. (C.) I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I love her; and that is good English.
Bur. Is she not apt?
K. Hen. Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not smooth;15 so that, having neither the voice nor the heart of flattery about me, I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in her, that he will appear in his true likeness. Shall Kate be my wife?
Fr. King. (L.C.) So please you.
Exe. The king hath granted every article:
His daughter, first; and then, in sequel, all,
According to their firm proposèd natures.
Fr. King. Take her, fair son;
That the contending kingdoms
Of France and England, whose very shores look pale
With envy of each other’s happiness,
May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction
Plant neighbourhood and christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance
His bleeding sword ’twixt England and fair France.
K. Hen. Now, welcome, Kate:—and bear me witness all,
That here I take her as my sovereign queen.
The King places a ring on Katharine’s finger.
Prepare we for our marriage:—on which day,
My lord of Burgundy, we’ll take your oath,
And all the peers’, for surety of our leagues.—
Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me;
And may our oaths well kept and prosp’rous be!(C)
Flourish of Trumpets. Curtain descends.
The End
Historical Notes to Act Fifth
(A) Enter King Henry,] At this interview, which is described as taking place in the Church of Notre Dame, at Troyes, King Henry was attired in his armour, and accompanied by sixteen hundred warriors. Henry is related to have placed a ring of “inestimable value” on the finger of Katharine, “supposed to be the same worn by our English queen-consorts at their coronation,” at the moment when he received the promise of the princess.
(B) The Princess Katharine,] Katharine of Valois was the youngest child of Charles VI., King of France, and his Queen, Isabella of Bavaria. She was born in Paris, October 27th, 1401. Monstrelet relates, that on Trinity Sunday, June 3rd, the King of England wedded the lady Katharine in the church at Troyes, and that great pomp and magnificence were displayed by him and his princess, as if he had been king of the whole world. Katharine was crowned Queen of England February 24, 1421; and shortly after the death of her heroic husband, which event took place August 31st, 1422, the queen married a Welch gentleman of the name of Owen Tudor, by whom she had three sons and one daughter. The eldest son, Edmund, married Margaret Beaufort, the heiress of the house of Somerset. His half-brother, Henry VI., created him Earl of Richmond. He died before he reached twenty years of age, leaving an infant son, afterwards Henry VII., the first king of the Tudor line. Katharine died January 3rd, 1437, in the thirty-sixth year of her age, and was buried at Westminster Abbey.
(C) ——may our oaths well kept and prosp’rous be;] The principal articles of the treaty were, that Henry should espouse the Princess Catherine: That King Charles, during his life time, should enjoy the title and dignity of King of France: That Henry should be declared and acknowledged heir of the monarchy, and be entrusted with the present administration of the government: That that kingdom should pass to his heirs general: That France and England should for ever be united under one king; but should still retain their several usages, customs, and privileges: That all the princes, peers, vassals, and communities of France, should swear, that they would both adhere to the future succession of Henry, and pay him present obedience as regent: That this prince should unite his arms to those of King Charles and the Duke of Burgundy, in order to subdue the adherents of Charles, the pretended dauphin; and that these three princes should make no peace or truce with him but by common consent and agreement. Such was the tenour of this famous treaty; a treaty which, as nothing but the most violent animosity could dictate it, so nothing but the power of the sword could carry it into execution. It is hard to say whether its consequences, had it taken effect, would have proved more pernicious to England or France. It must have reduced the former kingdom to the rank of a province: It would have entirely disjointed the succession of the latter, and have brought on the destruction of the royal family; as the houses of Orleans, Anjou, Alençon, Britanny, Bourbon, and of Burgundy itself, whose titles were preferable to that of the English princes, would, on that account, have been exposed to perpetual jealousy and persecution from the sovereign. There was even a palpable deficiency in Henry’s claim, which no art could palliate. For, besides the insuperable objections to which Edward the Third’s pretensions were exposed, he was not heir to that monarch: If female succession were admitted, the right had devolved on the house of Mortimer: Allowing that Richard the Second was a tyrant, and that Henry the Fourth’s merits in deposing him were so great towards the English, as to justify that nation in placing him on the throne, Richard had nowise offended France, and his rival had merited nothing of that kingdom: It could not possibly be pretended that the crown of France was become an appendage to that of England; and that a prince who by any means got possession of the latter, was, without farther question, entitled to the former. So that, on the whole, it must be allowed that Henry’s claim to France was, if possible, still more unintelligible than the title by which his father had mounted the throne of England. —Hume’s History of England.
Footnotes
Page Notes
1* The English authorities vary in their statements from seventeen to one hundred killed. The French historian, Monstrelet, estimates the loss of his countrymen at ten thousand men.
2* The throne is powdered with the letter S. This decoration made its appearance in the reign of Henry IV., and has been differently accounted for. The late Sir Samuel Meyrick supposes it to be the initial letter of Henry’s motto, “Souveraine.” The King’s costume is copied from Strutt’s “Regal Antiquities.” The dresses of the English throughout the play are taken from the works of Strutt, Meyrick, Shaw, and Hamilton Smith. The heraldry has been kindly supplied by Thomas Willement, Esq., F.S.A. The Lord Great Chamberlain carrying the sword of state is De Vere, Earl of Oxford.
3* At that moment the Earl of March was the lawful heir to the crown, he being the heir general of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, third son of Edward III, whilst Henry V. was but the heir of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, King Edward’s fourth son.
4* Extracts from the Account of the Siege of Harfleur, selected from the pages of the anonymous Chronicler who was an eyewitness of the event.
“Our King, who sought peace, not war, in order that he might further arm the cause in which he was engaged with the shield of justice offered peace to the besieged, if they would open the gates to him, and restore, as was their duty, freely, without compulsion, that town, the noble hereditary portion of his Crown of England, and of his Dukedom of Normandy.
“But as they, despising and setting at nought this offer, strove to keep possession of, and to defend the town against him, our King summoned to fight, as it were, against his will, called upon God to witness his just cause***he (King Henry) gave himself no rest by day or night, until having fitted and fixed his engines and guns under the walls, he had planted them within shot of the enemy, against the front of the town, and against the walls, gates, and towers, of the same***so that taking aim at the place to be battered, the guns from beneath blew forth stones by the force of ignited powers,***and in the mean time our King, with his guns and engines, so battered the said bulwark, and the walls and towers on every side, that within a few days, by the impetuosity and fury of the stones, the same bulwark was in a great part broken down; and the walls and towers from which the enemy had sent forth their weapons, the bastions falling in ruins, were rendered defenceless; and very fine edifices, even in the middle of the city, either lay altogether in ruins, or threatened an inevitable fall; or at least were so shaken as to be exceedingly damaged.****And although our guns had disarmed the bulwark, walls, and towers during the day, the besieged by night, with logs, faggots, and tubs on vessels full of earth, mud, and sand or stones, piled up within the shattered walls, and with other barricadoes, refortified the streets.**The King had caused towers and wooden bulwarks to the height of the walls, and ladders and other instruments, besides those which he had brought with him for the assault.” —We are then told that the enemy contrived to set these engines on fire ’by means of powders, and combustibles prepared on the walls.’
The History then states that “a fire broke out where the strength of the French was greater, and the French themselves were overcome with resisting, and in endeavouring to extinguish the fire, until at length by force of arms, darts, and flames, their strength was destroyed. Leaving the place therefore to our party, they fled and retreated beneath the walls for protection; most carefully blocking up the entrance with timber, stones, earth, and mud, lest our people should rush in upon them through the same passage.”
“On the following day a conference was held with the Lord de Gaucort, who acted as Captain, and with the more powerful leaders, whether it was the determination of the inhabitants to surrender the town without suffering further rigour of death or war.****On that night they entered into a treaty with the King, that if the French King, or the Dauphin, his first-born, being informed, should not raise the seige, and deliver them by force of arms within the first hour after morn on the Sunday following, they would surrender to him the town, and themselves, and their property.”
“And neither at the aforesaid hour on the following Sunday, nor within the time, the French King, the Dauphin, nor any one else, coming forward to raise the siege.****The aforesaid Lord de Gaucort came from the town into the king’s presence, accompanied by those persons who before had sworn to keep the articles, and surrendering to him the keys of the Corporation, submitted themselves, together with the citizens, to his grace.****Then the banners of St. George and the King were fixed upon the gates of the town, and the King advanced his illustrious uncle, the Lord Thomas Beaufort, Earl of Dorset (afterwards Duke of Exeter) to be keeper and captain of the town, having delivered to him the keys.”
Thus, after a vigorous siege of about thirty-six days, one of the most important towns of Normandy fell into the hands of the invaders. The Chronicler in the text informs us, that the dysentery had carried off infinitely more of the English army than were slain in the siege; that about five thousand men were then so dreadfully debilitated by that disease, that they were unable to proceed, and were therefore sent to England; that three hundred men-at-arms and nine hundred archers were left to garrison Harfleur; that great numbers had cowardly deserted the King, and returned home by stealth; and that after all these deductions, not more than nine hundred lances and five thousand archers remained fit for service.
Hume, in his History of England, relates that “King Henry landed near Harfleur, at the head of an army of 6,000 men-at-arms, and 24,000 foot, mostly archers. He immediately began the siege of that place, which was valiantly defended by d’Estoüleville, and under him by de Guitri, de Gaucourt, and others of the French nobility; but as the garrison was weak, and the fortifications in bad repair, the governor was at last obliged to capitulate, and he promised to surrender the place if he received no succour before the 18th of September. The day came, and there was no appearance of a French army to relieve him. Henry, taking possession of the town, placed a garrison in it, and expelled all the French inhabitants, with an intention of peopling it anew with English. The fatigues of this siege, and the unusual heat of the season, had so wasted the English army, that Henry could enter on no farther enterprise, and was obliged to think of returning to England. He had dismissed his transports, which could not anchor in an open road upon the enemy’s coasts, and he lay under a necessity of marching by land to Calais before he could reach a place of safety. A numerous French army of 14,000 men at-arms, and 40,000 foot, was by this time assembled in Normandy, under the constable d’Albret, a force which, if prudently conducted, was sufficient either to trample down the English in the open field, or to harass and reduce to nothing their small army before they could finish so long and difficult a march. Henry, therefore, cautiously offered to sacrifice his conquest of Harfleur for a safe passage to Calais; but his proposal being rejected, he determined to make his way by valour and conduct through all the opposition of the enemy.”
5* Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick. He did not obtain that title till 1417, two years after the era of this play.
6† The Lord Mayor of London, A.D. 1415, was Nicholas Wotton.
Scene Notes
Act I Chorus
Ic.1 O, for a muse of fire, &c.] This goes, says Warburton, upon the notion of the Peripatetic system, which imagines several heavens one above another, the last and highest of which was one of fire. It alludes, likewise, to the aspiring nature of fire, which, by its levity, at the separation of the chaos, took the highest seat of all the elements.
Ic.2 Assume the port of Mars;] i.e., the demeanour, the carriage, air of Mars. From portée, French.
Ic.3 Can this cockpit hold] Shakespeare probably calls the stage a cockpit, as the most diminutive enclosure present to his mind.
Ic.4 Upon this little stage] The original text is “within this wooden O,” in allusion, probably, to the theatre where this history was exhibited, being, from its circular form, called The Globe.
Ic.5 ——the very casques] Even the helmets, much less the men by whom they were worn.
Ic.6 ——imaginary forces] Imaginary for imaginative, or your powers of fancy. Active and passive words are by Shakespeare frequently confounded.
Ic.7 The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder.] Perilous narrow means no more than very narrow. In old books this mode of expression frequently occurs.
Ic.8 Into a thousand parts divide one man,] i.e., suppose every man to represent a thousand.
Ic.9 ——make imaginary puissance:] i.e., imagine you see an enemy.
Act I
I.1 ——task] Keep busied with scruples and disquisitions.
I.2 Archbishop of Canterbury,] Henry Chichely, a Carthusian monk, recently promoted to the see of Canterbury.
I.3 Bishop of Ely.] John Fordham, consecrated 1388; died, 1426.
I.4 ——wrest,] i.e., distort.
I.5 ——or bow your reading,] i.e., bend your interpretation.
I.6 Or nicely charge your understanding soul] Take heed, lest by nice and subtle sophistry you burthen your knowing soul, or knowingly burthen your soul, with the guilt of advancing a false title, or of maintaining, by specious fallacies, a claim which, if shown in its native and true colours, would appear to be false. —Johnson.
I.7 ——miscreate,] Ill-begotten, illegitimate, spurious.
I.8 ——in approbation] i.e., in proving and supporting that title which shall be now set up.
I.9 ——impawn our person,] To engage and to pawn were in our author’s time synonymous.
I.10 ——gloze] Expound, explain.
I.11 ——imbare their crooked titles] i.e., to lay open, to display to view.
I.12 In allusion to the battle of Crecy, fought 25th August, 1346.
I.13 So hath your highness;] i.e., your highness hath indeed what they think and know you have.
I.14 They of those marches,] The marches are the borders, the confines. Hence the Lords Marchers, i.e., the lords presidents of the marches, &c.
I.15 ——in few.] i.e., in short, brief.
I.16 ——a nimble galliard won;] A galliard was an ancient dance. The word is now obsolete.
I.17 ——let me bring thee to Staines.] i.e., let me attend, or accompany thee.
I.18 ——Arthur’s bosom,] Dame Quickly, in her usual blundering way, mistakes Arthur for Abraham.
I.19 ’A made a finer end,] To make a fine end is not an uncommon expression for making a good end. The Hostess means that Falstaff died with becoming resignation and patient submission to the will of Heaven.
I.20 ——an it had been any christom child;] i.e., child that has wore the chrysom, or white cloth put on a new baptized child.
I.21 ——turning o’ the tide:] It has been a very old opinion, which Mead, de imperio solis, quotes, as if he believed it, that nobody dies but in the time of ebb: half the deaths in London confute the notion; but we find that it was common among the women of the poet’s time. —Johnson.
I.22 ——I saw him fumble with the sheets,] Pliny, in his chapter on the signs of death, makes mention of “a fumbling and pleiting of the bed-clothes.” The same indication of approaching death is enumerated by Celsus, Lommius, Hippocrates, and Galen.
I.23 ’A could never abide carnation;] Mrs. Quickly blunders, mistaking the word incarnate for a colour. In questions of Love, published 1566, we have “yelowe, pale, redde, blue, whyte, gray, and incarnate.”
I.24 Shall we shog off?] i.e., shall we move off—jog off?
I.25 Let senses rule;] i.e., let prudence govern you—conduct yourself sensibly.
I.26 ——Pitch and pay;] A familiar expression, meaning pay down at once, pay ready money; probably throw down your money and pay.
I.27 ——hold-fast is the only dog,] Alluding to the proverbial saying— “Brag is a good dog, but Holdfast is a better.”
I.28 ——caveto be thy counsellor.] i.e., let prudence be thy counsellor.
I.29 ——clear thy crystals.] Dry thine eyes.
Act II Chorus
IIc.1 ——which he fills] i.e., the King of France.
IIc.2 ——Richard, earl of Cambridge;] Was Richard de Coninsbury, younger son of Edmund of Langley, Duke of York. He was father of Richard, Duke of York, father of Edward the Fourth.
IIc.3 Henry lord Scroop of Masham,] Was third husband of Joan Duchess of York (she had four), mother-in-law of Richard, Earl of Cambridge.
IIc.4 ——the gilt of France,] i.e., golden money.
IIc.5 ——this grace of kings] i.e., he who does the greatest honor to the title. By the same phraseology the usurper in Hamlet is called the vice of kings, i.e., the opprobrium of them.
IIc.6 ——while we force a play.] To force a play is to produce a play by compelling many circumstances into a narrow compass.
IIc.7 We’ll not offend one stomach] That is, you shall pass the sea without the qualms of sea-sickness.
IIc.8 But, till the king come forth, and not till then,] The meaning is, “We will not shift our scene unto Southampton till the king makes his appearance on the stage, and the scene will be at Southampton only for the short time while he does appear on the stage; for, soon after his appearance, it will change to France.”
—Malone.
Act II
II.1 ——in a fair consent with ours,] i.e., in friendly concord; in unison with ours.
II.2 ——hearts create] Hearts compounded or made up of duty and zeal.
II.3 ——more advice,] On his return to more coolness of mind.
II.4 Are heavy orisons ’gainst, &c.] i.e., are weighty supplications against this poor wretch.
II.5 ——proceeding on distemper,] Distemper’d in liquor was a common expression. We read in Holinshed, vol. iii., page 626:— “gave him wine and strong drink in such excessive sort, that he was therewith distempered, and reeled as he went.”
II.6 ——how shall we stretch our eye] If we may not wink at small faults, how wide must we open our eyes at great.
II.7 Who are the late commissioners?] That is, who are the persons lately appointed commissioners.
II.8 ——quick] That is, living.
II.9 ——as gross] As palpable.
II.10
——though the truth of it stands off as gross
As black from white,]
Though the truth be as apparent and visible as black and white contiguous to each other. To stand off is être relevè, to be prominent to the eye, as the strong parts of a picture. —Johnson.
II.11 Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice,] Cambridge means to say, at which prevention, or, which intended scheme that it was prevented, I shall rejoice. Shakespeare has many such elliptical expressions. The intended scheme that he alludes to was the taking off Henry, to make room for his brother-in-law. —Malone.
II.12 ——our kingdom’s safety must so tender,] i.e., must so regard.
II.13 ——dear offences!—] To dere, in ancient language, was to hurt; the meaning, therefore, is hurtful—pernicious offences.
II.14 Our puissance] i.e., our power, our force.
II.15 ——French King,] The costume of Charles VI. is copied from Willemin, Monuments Français. The dresses of the other Lords are selected from Montfaucon Monarchie Françoise.
II.16 ——more than carefully it us concerns,] More than carefully is with more than common care; a phrase of the same kind with better than well. —Johnson.
II.17 How modest in exception,] How diffident and decent in making objections.
II.18 ——strain] lineage.
II.19 That haunted us] To haunt is a word of the utmost horror, which shows that they dreaded the English as goblins and spirits.
II.20 ——crown’d with the golden sun,—] Shakespeare’s meaning (divested of its poetical fancy) probably is, that the king stood upon an eminence, with the sun shining over his head. —Steevens.
II.21 ——fate of him.] His fate is what is allotted him by destiny, or what he is fated to perform.
II.22 Montjoy,] Mont-joie is the title of the principal king-at-arms in France, as Garter is in our country.
II.23 ——spend their mouths,] That is, bark; the sportsman’s term.
II.24 ——memorable line,] This genealogy; this deduction of his lineage.
II.25 Shall chide your trespass,] To chide is to resound, to echo.
II.26 ——you shall read] i.e., shall find.
Act III Chorus
IIIc.1 The well-appointed king] i.e., well furnished with all the necessaries of war.
IIIc.2 Embark his royalty;] The place where Henry’s army was encamped, at Southampton, is now entirely covered with the sea, and called Westport.
IIIc.3 ——rivage,] The bank or shore.
IIIc.4 ——to sternage of this navy;] The stern being the hinder part of the ship, the meaning is, let your minds follow close after the navy. Stern, however, appears to have been anciently synonymous to rudder.
IIIc.5 ——linstock] The staff to which the match is fixed when ordnance is fired.
IIIc.6 Or close the wall up with our English dead!] i.e. re-enter the breach you have made, or fill it up with your own dead bodies.
IIIc.7 Whose blood is fet] To fet is an obsolete word meaning to fetch. That is, “whose blood is derived,” &c. The word is used by Spencer and Ben Jonson.
IIIc.8 ——like greyhounds in the slips,] Slips are a contrivance of leather, to start two dogs at the same time.
IIIc.9 ——whom of succour we entreated,] This phraseology was not uncommon in Shakespeare’s time.
IIIc.10 ——are we addrest.] i.e., prepared.
Act III
III.1 ——lavoltas high] A dance in which there was much turning, and much capering.
III.2 ——swift corantos;] A corant is a sprightly dance.
III.3 With pennons] Pennons armorial were small flags, on which the arms, device, and motto of a knight were painted.
III.4 And, for achievement, offer up his ransom.] i.e., instead of fighting, he will offer to pay ransom.
III.5 ——ancient Pistol.] Ancient, a standard or flag; also the ensign bearer, or officer, now called an ensign.
III.6 Of buxom valour,] i.e., valour under good command, obedient to its superiors. The word is used by Spencer.
III.7 ——upon the rolling restless stone,—] Fortune is described by several ancient authors in the same words.
III.8 ——with a muffler before her eyes,] A muffler was a sort of veil, or wrapper, worn by ladies in Shakespeare’s time, chiefly covering the chin and throat.
III.9 For he hath stolen a pix,] A pix, or little chest (from the Latin pixis, a box), in which the consecrated host was used to be kept.
III.10 Fico for thy friendship!] Fico is fig—it was a term of reproach.
III.11 The fig of Spain!] An expression of contempt or insult, which consisted in thrusting the thumb between two of the closed fingers, or into the mouth; whence Bite the thumb. The custom is generally regarded as being originally Spanish. —Nares.
III.12 ——such slanders of the age,] Cowardly braggarts were not uncommon characters with the old dramatic writers.
III.13 ——I must speak with him from the pridge.] From for about—concerning the fight that had taken place there.
III.14 ——bubukles,] A corrupt word for carbuncles, or something like them.
III.15 ——and whelks,] i.e., stripes, marks, discolorations.
III.16 ——his fire’s out.] This is the last time that any sport can be made with the red face of Bardolph.
III.17 ——by my habit,] That is, by his herald’s coat. The person of a herald being inviolable, was distinguished in those times of formality by a peculiar dress, which is likewise yet worn on particular occasions.
III.18 ——admire our sufferance.] i.e., our patience, moderation.
III.19 Without impeachment:] i.e., hindrance. Empechement, French.
III.20 Yet, Heaven before,] In the acting edition, the name of God is changed to Heaven. This was an expression in Shakespeare’s time for God being my guide.
III.21 Though France himself,] i.e., though the King of France himself.
Act IV Chorus
IVc.1 ——stilly sounds,] i.e., gently, lowly.
IVc.2 The secret whispers of each other’s watch:] Holinshed says, that the distance between the two armies was but 250 paces.
IVc.3 Fire answers fire;] This circumstance is also taken from Holinshed. “But at their coming into the village, fires were made by the English to give light on every side, as there likewise were in the French hoste.”
IVc.4 ——the other’s umber’d face:] Umber’d means here discoloured by the gleam of the fires. Umber is a dark yellow earth, brought from Umbria, in Italy, which, being mixed with water, produces such a dusky yellow colour as the gleam of fire by night gives to the countenance. Shakespeare’s theatrical profession probably furnished him with the epithet, as burnt umber is occasionally used by actors for colouring the face.
IVc.5 ——over-lusty] i.e., over-saucy.
IVc.6 Do the low-rated English play at dice;] i.e., do play them away at dice. Holinshed says— “The Frenchmen, in the meanwhile, as though they had been sure of victory, made great triumph; for the captains had determined before how to divide the spoil, and the soldiers the night before had played the Englishmen at dice.”
IVc.7 Minding true things] To mind is the same as to call to remembrance.
Act IV
IV.1 ——popular] i.e., one of the people.
IV.2 ——you are a better than the king.] i.e., a better man than the king.
IV.3 The king’s a bawcock,] A burlesque term of endearment, supposed to be derived from beau coq.
IV.4 ——an imp of fame;] An imp is a young shoot, but means a son in Shakespeare. In this sense the word has become obsolete, and is now only understood as a small or inferior devil.
In Holingshed, p. 951, the last words of Lord Cromwell are preserved, who says:— “——and after him, that his son Prince Edward, that goodly imp, may long reign over you.”]
IV.5 It sorts] i.e., it agrees.
IV.6 ——speak lower.] Shakespeare has here, as usual, followed Holinshead: “Order was taken by commandement from the king, after the army was first set in battle array, that no noise or clamor should be made in the host.”
IV.7 ——conditions:] i.e., qualities. The meaning is, that objects are represented by his senses to him, as to other men by theirs. What is danger to another is danger likewise to him; and, when he feels fear, it is like the fear of meaner mortals. —Johnson.
IV.8 ——his cause being just, and his quarrel honourable.] In his address to the army, King Henry called upon them all to remember the just cause and quarrel for which they fought. —Holinshed.
IV.9 ——the latter day,] i.e., the last day, the day of Judgment. Shakespeare frequently uses the comparative for the superlative.
IV.10 ——their children rawly left.] i.e., left young and helpless.
IV.11 ——too round:] i.e., too rough, too unceremonious.
IV.12 Rambures,] The Lord of Rambures was commander of the cross-bows in the French army at Agincourt.
IV.13 And dout them] Dout, is a word still used in Warwickshire, and signifies to do out, or extinguish.
IV.14 ——a hilding foe.] Hilding, or hinderling, is a low wretch.
IV.15 Yon island carrion,] This description of the English is founded on the melancholy account given by our historians of Henry’s army, immediately before the battle of Agincourt.
IV.16 Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,] By their ragged curtains, are meant their colours.
IV.17 The king himself is rode to view their battle.] The king is reported to have dismounted before the battle commenced, and to have fought on foot.
IV.18 ——on the vigil feast his friends,] i.e., the evening before the festival.
IV.19 ——with advantages,] Old men, notwithstanding the natural forgetfulness of age, shall remember their feats of this day, and remember to tell them with advantage. Age is commonly boastful, and inclined to magnify past acts and past times. —Johnson.
IV.20 From this day to the ending] It may be observed that we are apt to promise to ourselves a more lasting memory than the changing state of human things admits. This prediction is not verified; the feast of Crispin passes by without any mention of Agincourt. Late events obliterate the former: the civil wars have left in this nation scarcely any tradition of more ancient history. —Johnson.
IV.21 ——gentle his condition:] This day shall advance him to the rank of a gentleman.
King Henry V. inhibited any person but such as had a right by inheritance, or grant, to assume coats of arms, except those who fought with him at the battle of Agincourt; and, I think, these last were allowed the chief seats of honour at all feasts and publick meetings. —Tollet.]
IV.22 ——bravely in their battles set.] Bravely, for gallantly.
IV.23 Bid them achieve me,] i.e., gain, or obtain me.
IV.24 ——warriors for the working-day:] We are soldiers but coarsely dressed; we have not on our holiday apparel.
IV.25 ——our guilt] i.e., golden show, superficial gilding. The word is obsolete.
IV.26 O perdurable shame!] Perdurable is lasting.
IV.27 Or void the field;] i.e., avoid, withdraw from the field.
IV.28 ——raught me his hand,] Raught is the old preterite of the verb to reach.
IV.29 ——Monmouth caps;] Monmouth caps were formerly much worn, and Fuller, in his “Worthies of Wales,” says the best caps were formerly made at Monmouth.
IV.30 ——great sort,] High rank.
IV.31 ——quite from the answer of his degree.] A man of such station as is not bound to hazard his person to answer to a challenge from one of the soldier’s low degree.
IV.32 Five hundred were but yesterday dubb’d knights:] In ancient times, the distribution of this honor appears to have been customary on the eve of a battle.
IV.33 Sixteen hundred mercenaries;] i.e., common soldiers, hired soldiers.
Act V Chorus
Vc.1 ——a mighty whiffler] An officer who walks first in processions, or before persons in high stations, on occasions of ceremony. The name is still retained in London, and there is an officer so called that walks before their companies at times of publick solemnity. It seems a corruption from the French word huissier. —Hanmer.
Act V
V.1 To have me fold up, &c.] Dost thou desire to have me put thee to death.
V.2 ——a squire of low degree.] That is, I will bring thee to the ground.
V.3 ——astonished him.] That is, you have stunned him with the blow.
V.4 ——gleeking] i.e., scoffing, sneering. Gleek was a game at cards.
V.5 ——English condition.] Condition is temper, disposition of mind.
V.6 ——Doth fortune play the huswife] That is, the jilt.
V.7 The dresses of Queen Isabella, her ladies, and the Princess Katharine, are taken from Montfaucon Monarchie Françoise.
V.8 ——wherefore we are met!] i.e., Peace, for which we are here met, be to this meeting.
V.9 The fatal balls of murdering basilisks:] It was anciently supposed that this serpent could destroy the object of its vengeance by merely looking at it.
V.10
——we will, suddenly,
Pass our accept, and peremptory answer.]
i.e., our answer shall be such as to leave no room for further questioning in the matter. “We will peremptorily make answer.”
V.11 ——look greenly,] i.e., like a young lover, awkwardly.
V.12 ——take a good fellow of plain and uncoined constancy;] Uncoined constancy signifies real and true constancy, unrefined and unadorned.
V.13 ——a good leg will fall,] i.e., shrink—fall away.
V.14 ——shall go to Constantinople] Shakespeare has here committed an anachronism. The Turks were not possessed of Constantinople before the year 1463, when Henry the Fifth had been dead thirty-one years.
V.15 ——my condition is not smooth;] i.e., manners, appearance.
Scene Correspondences
| Kean | Shakespeare |
|---|---|
| I.1 | I.1 |
| I.2 | II.3 with Boy’s speech from III.2 |
| II.1 | II.2 |
| II.2 | II.4 |
| III (unnumbered scene after Chorus) | III.1 |
| III.1 | III.5 |
| III.2 | III.6 |
| IV (unnumbered scene interrupting Chorus) | III.7 |
| IV.1 | IV.1 |
| IV.2 | IV.2 |
| IV.3 | IV.3 |
| IV.4 | IV.5 |
| IV.5 | IV.6 and IV.7 (intermingled) |
| IV.6 | IV.8 |
| Interlude | — |
| V.1 | V.1 |
| V.2 | V.2 |
| — | Epilogue (Chorus) |