Enter Chorus.

Chor. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story,

That I may prompt them.

Now we bear the king

Towards Calais: grant him there; there seen,

Heave him away upon your winged thoughts

Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach

Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and boys,

Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth’d sea,

Which, like a mighty whiffler1 ’fore the king

Seems to prepare his way: so let him land;

And solemnly, see him set on to London.

So swift a pace hath thought, that even now

You may imagine him upon Blackheath.

How London doth pour out her citizens!

The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort,—

Like to the senators of the antique Rome,

With the plebeians swarming at their heels,—

Go forth, and fetch their conquering Cæsar in.

Now in London place him. There must we bring him;

Show the occurrences, whatever chanc’d,

Till Harry’s back-return again to France.

Exit.

HISTORICAL EPISODE.

OLD LONDON BRIDGE

FROM THE SURREY SIDE OF THE RIVER.

RECEPTION OF KING HENRY THE FIFTH

ON ENTERING LONDON,
AFTER THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT. *

* Extracts of King Henry’s reception into London, from the anonymous Chronicler, who was an eye-witness of the events he describes:—

“And when the wished-for Saturday dawned, the citizens went forth to meet the king.***viz., the Mayor and Aldermen in scarlet, and the rest of the inferior citizens in red suits, with party-coloured hoods, red and white.***When they had come to the Tower at the approach to the bridge, as it were at the entrance to the authorities to the city.***Banners of the Royal arms adorned the Tower, elevated on its turrets; and trumpets, clarions, and horns, sounded in various melody; and in front there was this elegant and suitable inscription upon the wall, ‘Civitas Regis justicie’—(‘The city to the King’s righteousness.’)***And behind the Tower were innumerable boys, representing angels, arrayed in white, and with countenances shining with gold, and glittering wings, and virgin locks set with precious sprigs of laurel, who, at the King’s approach, sang with melodious voices, and with organs, an English anthem.

******

“A company of Prophets, of venerable hoariness, dressed in golden coats and mantles, with their heads covered and wrapped in gold and crimson, sang with sweet harmony, bowing to the ground, a psalm of thanksgiving.

******

“Beneath the covering were the twelve kings, martyrs and confessors of the succession of England, their loins girded with golden girdles, sceptres in their hands, and crowns on their heads, who chaunted with one accord at the King’s approach in a sweet tune.

******

“And they sent forth upon him round leaves of silver mixed with wafers, equally thin and round. And there proceeded out to meet the King a chorus of most beautiful virgin girls, elegantly attired in white, singing with timbrol and dance; and then innumerable boys, as it were an angelic multitude, decked with celestial gracefulness, white apparel, shining feathers, virgin locks, studded with gems and other resplendent and most elegant array, who sent forth upon the head of the King passing beneath minæ of gold, with bows of laurel; round about angels shone with celestial gracefulness, chaunting sweetly, and with all sorts of music.

“And besides the pressure in the standing places, and of men crowding through the streets, and the multitude of both sexes along the way from the bridge, from one end to the other, that scarcely the horsemen could ride through them. A greater assembly, or a nobler spectacle, was not recollected to have been ever before in London.”

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.


JOHN K. CHAPMAN AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, 5, SHOE LANE,
AND PETERBOROUGH COURT, FLEET STREET.

 

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