V. v. 31, 32. Pistol quotes two Latin phrases

which have no significance here, and then proceeds to mistranslate them. The Latin means literally: it is always the same, for without this there is nothing.
Epil. Shakespeare’s authorship of this epilogue has been questioned. The dancer says it is of his own making, but he speaks for the author in promis¬ ing a continuation of the play and in assuring the audience that Falstaff is not Sir John Oldcastle (cf. note on III. ii. 28, 29, and Appendix C 3 to 1 Henry IV, in the present edition). It is interesting to note that Shakespeare’s original intention was to continue the Falstaff plot through the play of Henry V j but, as Coleridge remarks, b4gincourt is not the place for the splendid mendacity of Falstaff. With the coro¬ nation of Henry V opens a new period of glorious enthusiasm and patriotic fervor. There is no longer any place for Falstaff on earth; he must find refuge in “Arthur’s bosom.” ’
Epil. 38. pray for the queen. It was the custom to end plays with a prayer for the sovereign. This custom originated in the interludes.
APPENDIX A
Sources of the Play
The principal source of the main plot of this play Is the 1587 edition of The Chronicles of England, Scotland, cad Ireland, by Raphael Holinshed. Sam¬ uel Daniel’s poem,, The Civill Wars of England (1595), or its source, may well have had some influ¬ ence. Several incidents in the comic plot are taken, apparently, from the play The Famous Victories of Henry V , first acted in 1588, licensed in 1594, and published in 1598.
Holinshed’s Chronicle
According to Holinshed, the Earl of Northumber¬ land was pardoned by the king after the battle of Shrewsbury in 1403. But in 1405 when ‘the king was minded to haue gone into Wales against the rebels that vnder their cheeftane Owen Glendower ceassed not to doo much mischeef against the Eng¬ lish subiects/ he was ‘further disquieted’ by a ‘con¬ spiracy put in practise against him at home by the Earle of Northumberland who had conspired with Richard Scroope, Archbishop of Yorke, Thomas Mowbraie earle marshall/ and others. ‘The King aduertised of these matters left his iourrie into Wales and marched with all speed toward the north parts. Also Rafe Neuill earl of Westmerland, that was not farre off, together with the lord Iohn of Lancaster, the king’s sonne, being informed of this rebellious attempt, assembled togither such power as they might tmake . . . made forward against the rebels, and coming into a plaine within the forrest of Galtree caused their standards to be pitched downe in the like sort as the Archbishop had pitched his ouer
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against them, being farre stronger in number of peo¬ ple than the other, for as some write there were of the rebels at least twentie thousand men/
Shakespeare follows Holinshed closely in describ¬ ing the ‘subtill policie’ whereby the rebels are dis¬ posed of ; but he transfers the odium attaching to this action from the earl of Westmoreland to Lord John of Lancaster.
The events of the next eight years, as related by Holinshed, are unnoticed in the play. Shakespeare, proceeds immediately to the death of the king, and again follows the Chronicle closely. ‘1413. The morrow after Candlemas daie began a parlement which the king had called at London, but he departed this life before the same parlement was ended; for now that his prouisions were readie and that he was furnished with sufficient treasure, soldiers, capteins, vittels, munitions, tall ships, strong gallies, and all things necessarie for such a roiall iournie as he pre¬ tended to take into the holie land, he was eftsoones taker with a sore sicknesse, which was not a leprosie striken by the hand of God, as foolish friars imag¬ ined, but a verie apoplexie. . . . During this sick¬ nesse he caused his crowne to be set on a pillow at his bed’s head, and suddenlie his pangs so sore trou¬ bled him that he laie as though all his vitall spirits had beene from him departed. Such as were about him couered his face with a linen cloth. The prince, his sonne, being hereof aduertised, entered into the chamber, tooke awaie the crowne, and departed. The father being suddenlie reuiued out of that trance quicklie perceiued the lacke of his crowne ; and hauing knowledge that the prince his sonne had taken it awaie caused him to come before his presence requir¬ ing of him what he meant so to misuse himself. The prince with a good audacitie answered, Sir, to mine and all mens iudgements you seemed dead in this world, wherefore I as youre next heire apparent tooke
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139
that as mine owne, and not as yours. Well, faire sonne, said the king with a great sigh, what right I had to it God knoweth. Well, said the prince, if you die king, I will haue the garland and trust to keepe it with the sword against all mine enemies as you haue done. Then said the king, I commit all to God, and remember you to doo well. With that he turned himself in his bed and shortlie after departed to God in a chamber of the abbats of Westminster called Ierusalem, . . . when he had reigned thirteene yeares in great perplexitie and little pleasure.’
Holinshed then tells us that ‘king Henrie the fift was crowned the ninth of Aprill, being Passion Sun- daie, which was a sore, ruggie, and tempestuous daie, with wind, snow, and sleet, that men greatlie mar- uelled thereat, making diuerse interpretations what that might signifie. But this king, to show that in his person princelie honors should change publike manners, he determined to put on him the shape of a new man. For whereas aforetime he had made him¬ self a companion vnto misrulie mates of dissolute order and life, he now banished them all from his presence, but not vnrewarded or else vnpreferred, inhibiting them vpon a great paine not once to ap¬ proach, lodge, or soiourne within ten miles of his court or presence: and in their places he chose men of grauitie, wit, and high policie, by whose wise councel he might at all times rule to his honor and dignity; calling to mind how once to hie offence of the king his father he had with his fist striken the cheefe iustice for sending one of his minions, vpon desert, to prison, when the iustice stoutlie commanded himself also streict to ward, and the prince obeied.’
Daniel’s Civill Wars
In the fourth book of his Civill W ars, Daniel con¬ denses history even more radically than Shakespeare.
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The king falls sick immediately after his victory at Shrewsbury, and is afflicted by spectres of Conscience and Death. He commands
‘some that attending were To fetch the crowne and set it in his sight;
On which with fixed eye and heauie cheere Casting a looke, O God, sayeth he, wdiat right I had to thee my soule doth now conceiue, —
Thee which with blood I got, with horror leave.’
Horror so overwhelms the king that he swoons —
‘When loe his Sonne comes in and takes away The fatall crowne from thence and out he goes As if unwilling longer time to lose.’
The king revives, summons the prince, and says:
‘O sonne, what needes thee make such speed Vnto that care where feare exceedes thy right. And when his sinne whom thou shalt now succeed Shall still upbraide thy inheritance of might?
And if thou canst liue, and liue great, from woe. Without this carefull trauaille, let it goe.’
The prince replies :
‘What wrong hath not continuance quite outworne? Yeeres make that right which neuer was so borne.’
The king dies praying that virtuous deeds and the holy wars of his son may atone for his own sins.
The Famous Victories of Flenry V
In this crude play Prince Hal is twice committed to prison, once by the Lord Mayor for rioting in the streets after a merry evening at the tavern in Jiastcheap, and once by the Lord Chief Justice for giving him ‘a box on the ear’ upon his refusal to pardon one of the prince’s companions who has been convicted of highway robbery.
King Henry the Fourth
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The following are characteristic selections:
Enter Henry the fourth, with the earle of Exeter and the earle of Oxford,
Oxf. Please your maiestie, heere is my Lord maior and the sheriffe of London.
King Hen. j. \. Admit them to our presence.
Enter the Maior and the Sheriffe.
Now, my good Lord Maior of London, the cause of my sending to you at this time is to tel you of a matter which I have learned of my councell: Herein I understand that you haue committed my sonne to prison without our leaue and license. What although he be a rude youth and likely to give occa¬ sion, yet you might haue considered that he is a Prince and my sonne, and not to be hailed to prison by euery subiect.
Maior. May it please your maiestie to give us leaue to tell our tale.
King Hen. If.. Or else God forbid, otherwise you might think me an vnequall Iudge, hauing more affec¬ tion to my sonne then to any rightfull iudgement.
Maior. Then if it please your Maiestie, this night betwixt two and three of the clocke of the morning, my Lord the young Prince with a very disordered companie, came to the olde Tauerne in Eastcheape and whether it was that their Musicke liked them not, or whether they were ouercome with wine, I know not, but they drew their swords and into the street they went, and some toke my Lord the yong Princes part, and some tooke the other, but betwixt them there was such a bloodie fray for the space of half an houre, that neither watchmen nor any other could stay them, till my brother the Sheriffe of London and I were sent for, and at the laste with much adoo we staied them, but it was long first, which was a great disquieting to all your louing subiects there-
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abouts : and then my good Lord, we knew not whether your grace had sent them to trie vs, whether we would doe iustice, or whether it were of their owne volun- tarie will or not, we cannot tell, and therefore for our owne safegard we sent him to ward where he wanteth nothing that is fit for his grace.
King Hen. Jf. Stand aside vntill we haue further deliberated on your answere.
Exit Maior.
Hen. Jf.. Ah Harry, Harry, now thrice accursed Harry,
That hath gotten a sonne which with greefe
Will end his fathers dayes.
Oh my sonne, a Prince thou art, I a Prince indeed,
And to deserue punishment
And well haue they done, and like faithfull sub- iects :
Discharge them and let them go.
Exit omnes.
A little later the Lord Chief Justice is conducting the trial of one Cuthbert Cutter, a follower of Prince Hal’s, for having robbed ‘a poore Carrier vpon Gads hill in Kent.’ The Prince enters, with ‘Ned and Tom,’ and demands the release of his man who has but robbed ‘in iest.’ The Chief Justice is courteous but resolute.
Hen. 5. Tell me, my lord, shall I haue my man?
Judge. I cannot, my lord.
Hen. 5. But will you not let him go?
Judge. I am sorrie his case is so ill.
Hen. 5. Tush, case me no casings, shall I haue my man?
Judge. I cannot, nor I may not, my lord.
King Henry the Fourth
143
Hen. 5. No: then I will haue him.
He giueth him a box on the eare.
Ned. Gogs wounds, my lord, shal I cut off his head?
Hen. 5. No, I charge you draw not your swords, But get you hence, prouyde a noyse of Musitians, Away, be gone.
Exeunt the Theefe.
Iudge. Well, my Lord, I am content to take it at your hands.
Hen. 5. Nay, and you be not you shall haue more.
Iudge. Why, I pray you, my Lord, who am I ?
Hen. 5. You, who knowes not you?
Why man, you are the Lord chiefe Justice of England.
Iudge. Your grace hath said truth, therefore in striking me in this place, you greatly abuse me, and not me onely but also your father: whose liuely per¬ son here in this place I doo represent. And there¬ fore to teach you what prerogatiues meane, I commit you to the Fleete, Vntill we haue spoken to your father.
Hen. 5. Why then belike you meane to send me to the Fleete?
Iudge. I, indeed, and therefore carry him away.
Exeunt Hen. 5. with the Officers.
The scene of the Prince’s repentance and reconcilia¬ tion with his father, which Shakespeare uses in 1 Henry IV, in The Famous Victories immediately precedes the following scene in the King’s death- chamber. The King is sleeping.
Enter Lord of Exeter and Oxford.
Exe. Come easily, my Lord, for waking of tht King.
Hen. I. Now, my Lords.
Oxf. How doth your Grace feele yourselfe?
Hen. If.. Somewhat better after my sleepe,
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But good my lords take off my crowne,
Remove my chair a little backe, and set me right.
Ambo. And please your grace, the crowne is taken away.
Hen. Jf. The Crowne taken away,
Good my lord of Oxford, go see who hath done this deed:
No doubt tis some vilde traitor that hath done it, To depriue my sonne. They that would do it now
Would seeke to scrape and scrawle for it after my death.
Enter Lord of Oxford with the Prince.
Oxf. Here and please your Grace,
Is my Lord the yong Prince with the Crowne.
Hen. L Why how now my sonne?
I had thought the last time I had you in school¬ ing.
And do you now begin againe?
Doest thou thinke the time so long That thou wouldest haue it before the Breath be out of my mouth?
Hen. 5. Most soueraign Lord, and welbeloued father,
I came into your Chamber to comfort the melan¬ choly
Soule of your bodie, and finding you at that time
Past all recouerie, and dead to my thinking,
God is my witness: and what should I doo But with weeping tears lament the death of you my father,
And after that seeing the Crowne I tooke it: And tell me my father, who might better take it then I,
Aftey your death? But seeing you liue
King Henry the Fourth
145
I most humbly render it into your Maiesties hands
And the happiest man aliue, that my father liue; And liue my Lord and Father for euer.
Hen. Stand vp my sonne,
Thine answere hath sounded wel in mine eares, For I must nedes confesse that I was in a very sound sleepe.
But come neare my sonne.
And let me put thee in possession whilst I liue. Hen. 5. Well may I take it at your maiesties hands, But it shall neuer touch my head so long as my father liues.
He taketh the crowne.
The King blesses his son, prophesies a glorious reign, calls for music, draws the curtains of his bed, and dies. After the coronation of the new King there is a conversation between the King and three of his old followers, Ned, Tom, and Iockey, who accost him as he appears in state with the Archbishop of Canterbury, and remind him of his promise to make Ned Lord Chief Justice.
Hen. 5. I prethee Ned, mend thy manners.
And be more modester in thy tearmes.
For my vnfeigned greefe is not to be ruled by thy flattering
And dissembling talke. Thou saiest I am chaunged.
So I am indeed, and so must thou be and that quickly.
Or else I must cause thee to be chaunged.
Tom. I trust we haue not offended your grace no way.
Hen. 5. Ah, Tom, your former life greeves me,
And makes me to abandon and abolish your company for euer.
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And therefore not vpon paine of deeth to ap- proch my presence
By ten miles space. Then if I heare wel of you. It may be I will do somewhat for you, Otherwise looke for no more fauour at my hands Then at any other mans. And therefore be gone, We haue other matters to talke on.
Exeunt Knights.
APPENDIX B The History of the Play
The success of Henry IV, Part I, led Shakespeare, apparently, to write the second part as a sequel. The date of its composition may be definitely stated as lying somewhere between 1596 and 1599. The death of Amurath III, to which reference is made in