This particularity, may, perhaps, be taken as another proof of Shakspere's technical knowledge, and fondness for legal allusions. 32 SCENE II.-" Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds." The following valuable note is communicated by a friend : ancient chivalry it was the practice to make | would wear out in four terms, or two actions. solemn vows or engagements for the performance of some considerable enterprise. This ceremony was usually performed during some grand feast or entertainment, at which a roasted peacock or pheasant, being served up by ladies in a dish of gold or silver, was thus presented to each knight, who then made the particular vow which he had chosen, with great solemnity. When this custom had fallen into disuse, the peacock, nevertheless, continued to be a favourite dish, and was introduced on the table in a pie, the head, with gilded beak, being proudly elevated above the crust, and the splendid tail expanded. Other birds of smaller value were introduced in the same manner, and the recollection of the old peacock-vows might occasion the less serious, or even burlesque, imitation of swearing, not only by the bird itself, but also by the pie; and hence, probably the oath by cock and pie, for the use of which no very old authority can be found." "Amurath is generally supposed to be Murad, and no Murad ever did succeed another;-not that it is of much consequence-but Amurath, in Greek 'Auvgas, is Emēēr, the Greek being pronounced as ee. In old books the Sultan is sometimes called "the Amyrath," and the style of Mohammed II. in the Greek version of his treaty with the Genoese of Galata is— “‘Ἐγὼ ὁ μέγας Αὐθέντης, καὶ μέγας ̓Αμυρᾶς ὁ Σουλτανός Μεχμετ Μπέη, υἱὸς τοῦ μεγαλοῦ Αὐθεντοῦ καὶ ̓Αμυρᾶ τοῦ Σουλτανοῦ Μουράτ Μπέη. "I the great Effendi and great Emeer, the Sultan Machomet Bey, son of the, &c.-Mourad Bey.' So that we find Amurath in the same sentence as distinct from Mourad." 33 SCENE III." Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer." Every lover of Shakspere must recollect that most exquisite passage in the Twelfth Night,' which describes the higher species of minstrelsy that had found an abiding place in the hearts of the people: "Give me some music:-but that piece of song, And dallies with the innocence of love, The outpouring of snatches of old songs by Old Merry-thought, who "evermore laughs, and | Edward II. (See Warton's History of English dances, and sings;" and he introduces himself to us with :-- "Nose, nose, jolly red nose, And who gave thee this jolly red nose." The humour of Old Merry-thought is little better than farce; but the extravagance of Silence is the richest comedy, from the contrast with his habitual character. The snatches which Silence sings are not the "light airs, and recollected terms, Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times," but fragments of old ballads that had been long heard in the squire's hall, and the yeoman's chimney-corner-“ old and plain.” For example, the expression, "T is merry in hall, when beards wag all," may be found, with a slight alteration, in the poems of Adam Davy, who lived in the time of Poetry,' section 6.) In the Serving Man's Comfort,' 1598, we have this passage, descriptive of the merriment in which the retainers of the great partook, in the time of Elizabeth :"Grace said, and the table taken up, the plate presently conveyed into the pantry, the hall summons this consort of companions (upon payne to dine with Duke Humphrey, or to kiss the hare's foot) to appear at the first call; where a song is to be sung, the under song or holding whereof is, 'It is merry in hall, where beards wag all.'" The concluding line, before the command to " I carry Master Silence to bed," is a portion of the old ballad of Robin Hood and the Pindar of Wakefield:'— "All this beheard three wighty yeomen, 'T was Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John: HISTORICAL. In the 'Studies of Shakspere,' p. 164, we have mentioned the story told by Sir Tomas Elyot, in his book of 'The Governor,' of the committal of Prince Henry to the Fleet by the Lord Chief Justice. This tradition was believed (perhaps upon the authority of Elyot) by Sir Edward Coke and Sir John Hawkins; and was referred to by them in legal arguments. The anecdote, as detailed by Elyot, is very amusing: "A good Judge, a good Prince, a good King. "The most renowned prince, King Henry V., late king of England, during the life of his father, was noted to be fierce and of wanton courage. It happened that one of his servants whom he favoured well, was for felony by him committed arraigned at the King's Bench: wherefore the prince being advertised, and incensed by light persons about him, in furious rage came hastily to the bar, where his servant stood as a prisoner, and commanded him to be ungyved and set at liberty. Whereat all men were abashed, reserved the chief justice, who humbly exhorted the prince to be contented that his servant might be ordered according to the ancient laws of this realm; or if he would have him saved from the rigour of the laws, that he should obtain, if he might, of the king his father his gracious pardon, whereby no law or justice should be derogate. "With which answer the prince nothing appeased, but rather more inflamed, endeavoured himself to take away his servant. The judge considering the perilous example and inconvenience that might thereby ensue, with a valiant spirit and courage commanded the prince upon his allegiance to leave the prisoner and depart his way; at which commandment the prince being set all in a fury, all chafed, and in a terrible manner, came up to the place of judgement, men thinking that he would have slain the judge, or have done to him some damage: but the judge sitting still without moving, declaring the majesty of the king's place of judgement, and with an assured and bold countenance, had to the prince these words following: "Sir, remember yourself. I keep here the place of the king your sovereign lord and father, to whom you owe double obedience: wherefore eftsoones in his name, I charge you to desist of your wilfulness and unlawful enterprise, and from henceforth give good example to those which hereafter shall be your proper subjects. And now, for your contempt, and disobedience, go you to the prison of the King's Bench, whereunto I commit you, and remain ye there prisoner until the pleasure of the king your father be further known.' With which words being abashed, and also wondering at the marvellous gravity of that worshipful justice, | The circumstances which preceded the death of Henry IV., including the story of the prince removing the crown, are thus detailed by Holinshed: "In this fourteenth and last year of King Henry's reign, a council was holden in the White Friars in London, at the which, among other things, order was taken for ships and galleys to be builded and made ready, and all other things necessary to be provided, for a voyage which he meant to make into the Holy Land, there to recover the city of Jerusalem from the infidels. The morrow after Candlemas-day, began a Parliament which he had called at London; but he departed this life before the same Parliament was ended: for now that his provisions were ready, and that he was furnished with all things necessary for such a royal journey as he pretended to take into the Holy Land, he was eftsoones taken with a sore sickness, which was not a leprosy (saith Master Hall), as foolish friars imagined, but a very apoplexy. During this, his last sickness, he caused his crown (as some write) to be set on a pillow at his bed'shead, and suddenly his pangs so sore troubled him, that he lay as though all his vital spirits had been from him departed. Such as were about him, thinking verily that he had been departed, covered his face with a linen cloth. The prince his son being hereof advertised, entered into the chamber, took away the crown, and departed. The father being suddenly revived out of that trance, quickly perceived the lack of his crown, and having knowledge that the prince his son had taken it away, caused him to come before his presence, requiring of him what he meant so to misuse himself: the prince with a good audacity answered, Sir, to mine, and all men's judgements, you seemed dead in this Well world; wherefore I, as your next heir apparent, We close our Historical Illustrations with a passage from Holinshed, descriptive of the change of life in Henry V.:— "This king was the man that, according to the old proverb, declared and shewed in what sort honours ought to change manners; for immediately after that he was invested king, and had received the crown, he determined with himself to put upon him the shape of a new man, turning insolency and wildness into gravity and soberness: and whereas he had passed his youth in wanton pastime, and riotous misorder, with a sort of misgoverned mates, and unthrifty playseers, he now banished them from his presence (not unrewarded, nor yet unpreferred), inhibiting them, upon a great pain, not once to approach, lodge, or sojourn, within ten miles of his court or mansion: and in their places he elected and chose men of gravity, wit, and high policy." INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 'HENRY V.' was first printed in 1600. This copy differs most materially from the text of the folio. The play runs only to 1800 lines; whilst the lines in the folio edition amount to 3500. Not only is the copy thus augmented by the additions of the choruses and new scenes, but there is scarcely a speech, from the first scene to the last, which is not elaborated. In this elaboration the old materials are very carefully used up; but they are so thoroughly refitted and dovetailed with what is new, that the operation can only be compared to the work of a skilful architect, who, having an ancient mansion to enlarge and beautify, with a strict regard to its original character, preserves every feature of the structure, under other combinations, with such marvellous skill, that no unity of principle is violated, and the whole has the effect of a restoration in which the new and the old are undistinguishable. "Shakspere," says Frederick Schlegel, "regarded the drama as entirely a thing for the people; and, at first, treated it throughout as such. He took the popular comedy as he found it, and whatever enlargements and improvements he introduced into the stage were all calculated and conceived according to the peculiar spirit of his predecessors, and of the audience in London." This is especially true with regard to Shakspere's Histories. In the case of the Henry V. it appears to us that our great dramatic poet would never have touched the subject, had not the stage previously possessed it in the old play of 'The Famous Victories.' 'Henry IV.' would have been perfect as a dramatic whole, without the addition of 'Henry V.' The somewhat doubtful mode in which he speaks of continuing the story appears to us a pretty certain indication that he rather shrunk from a subject which appeared to him essentially undramatic. It is, however, highly probable that, having brought the 'Lectures on the History of Literature,' vol. ii. history of Henry of Monmouth up to the period of his father's death, the demands of an audience who had been accustomed to hail "the madcap Prince of Wales" as the conqueror of Agincourt compelled him to "continue the story." Having hastily met the demands of his audience by the first sketch of 'Henry V.,' as it appears in the quarto editions, he subsequently saw the capacity which the subject presented for being treated in a grand lyrical spirit. Instead of interpolating an under-plot of petty passions and intrigues,—such, for the most part, as we find in the dramatic treatment of an heroic subject by the French poets,-he preserved the great object of his drama entire by the intervention of the chorus. Skilfully as he has managed this, and magnificent as the whole drama is as a great national song of triumph, there can be no doubt that Shakspere felt that in this play he was dealing with a theme too narrow for his peculiar powers. The subject is altogether one of lyric grandeur; but it is not one, we think, which Shakspere would have chosen for a drama. And yet how exquisitely has Shakspere thrown his dramatic power into this undramatic subject! The character of the King is altogether one of the most finished portraits that has proceeded from this masterhand. It could, perhaps, only have been thoroughly conceived by the poet who had delineated the Henry of the Boar's Head, and of the Field of Shrewsbury. The surpassing union, in this character, of spirit and calmness, of dignity and playfulness, of an ever-present energy, and an almost melancholy abstraction,-the conventional authority of the king, and the deep sympathy, with the meanest about him, of the man,was the result of the most philosophical and consistent appreciation by the poet of the moral and intellectual progress of his own Prince of Wales. And let it not be said that the |
