atone for it? Why, he'd fight physically. By being stronger or cleverer in fight than Hotspur, he 'd win not only Hotspur's martial fame, but moral glory too, and claim the merit of his foe's life, of duty and devotion to his mistress, war. When Hotspur lay dead at his feet, he thought Hotspur's honours and his own shame had changed places. Still we must recollect the times. Henry's wildness would hardly be blamed then; full bloods will sow their wild oats. His escapades were only skin-deep; at a touch, the call of war, he changed. He was not passion's slave; he had his mother's, his father's, self-control; gallant and wise, he won. As to Hotspur, who can help liking him? With all his hot-headedness and petulance, his daring and his boasting, his humour with his wife, his scorn of that scented courtier, his lashing himself into a rage with Henry the Fourth, his keenness at a bargain (North-country to a T), his hatred of music, his love of his crop-eared roan. Yet he is passion's slave, the thrall of every temper and whim. Himself and his own glory are really his gods, as at his death. he says. What is his native land, what is England's weal, to him? Things to be sacrificed because his temper 's crossed. One third to Wales, to England's foe, one third to himself, and but one third to Richard's rightful heir. In one sense, Hotspur is Kate the Shrew, in armour, and a man. But how he lives in the play, and starts from the printed page! Of Falstaff, who can say enough? He is the incarnation of humour and lies, of wit and self-indulgence, of shrewdness and immorality, of self-possession and vice, without a spark of conscience or reverence, without self-respect, an adventurer preying upon the weaknesses of other men. Yet all men enjoy him so did Shakspere, and he carried his delight in successful rogues to the end of his life. See how in Winter's Tale he bubbles and chirps with the fun of that rascal Autolycus, and lets him sail off successful and unharmed. We 32 see in Falstaff the amusing exaggeration of Grumio; and that imputing his own faults to other innocent people is delightful.* His most striking power is shown in his turns when he 's cornered. Look at the cases of Poins and the coward, Prince Hal's exposure of his robbery, his false accusation of Mrs. Quickly, his behaviour in the fight with Douglas, and his claiming to have killed Hotspur. His effrontery is inimitable. He's neither a coward nor courageous. He only asks which 'll pay best-fighting or running away, and acts accordingly. He evidently had a reputation as a soldier, and was a professed one, was sought out, and got a commission on the outbreak of the war. *It's like Mercutio imputing his own quarrelsomeness to Benvolio in Romeo and Juliet, iii. 1. KING HENRY the Fourth. HENRY, Prince of Wales, sons to the King. EARL OF WESTMORELAND. SIR WALTER BLUNT. THOMAS PERCY, Earl of Worcester. HENRY PERCY, Earl of Northumberland. HENRY PERCY, surnamed HOTSPUR, his son. RICHARD SCROOP, Archbishop of York. OWEN GLENDOWER. SIR RICHARD VERNON. SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. SIR MICHAEL, a friend to the Archbishop of LADY PERCY, wife to Hotspur, and sister to Mortimer. LADY MORTIMER, daughter to Glendower, and wife to Mortimer. MISTRESS QUICKLY, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants. SCENE: England. SCENE I. London. The Palace. Enter KING HENRY, LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER, the EARL King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, No more the thirsty entrance of this soil |