Dr. Michael Delahoyde Washington State University

HENRY V

Stratfordians date this play from the spring of 1599, just before publication of a "newly corrected" edition with the hyphenated Shake-speare name on it (Ogburn and Ogburn 1039), and based on a topical interpretation in the Chorus in Act V (the General = Essex; the Empress = Elizabeth, who had sent him on an Irish campaign). But Oxfordians have pointed out how little sense that allusion would make and instead propose a composition in the early- or mid-1580s (e.g., Ogburn and Ogburn 710) and the reference being to Thomas Butler, Elizabeth's commanding general in Ireland. According to J.Q. Adams, there was a Henry V play before 1588 at the Bull in Bishopsgate (Ogburn and Ogburn 729). See Ramón Jiménez, "'Rebellion broachèd on his sword': New Evidence of an Early Date for Henry V." The Shakespeare Oxford Newsletter 37.3 (Fall 2001): 8-11, 21.

The main reasons for thinking that Shakespeare wrote the play titled The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth in the 1570s and revised the play into the two Henry IV plays and Henry V are given by Ramón Jiménez, "The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth: Key to the Authorship Question?" The Shakespeare Oxford Newsletter 37.2 (Summer 2001): 7-10. The 11th Earl of Oxford, who plays so large a part in Famous Victories, has disappeared in favor of the glory going to the king; Shakespeare matured (Ogburn and Ogburn 29). The secretaries and "University Wits" attached to Oxford may have added touches, but nothing like to the extent of 1 Henry VI (Ogburn and Ogburn 730).

Despite the implications in the epilogue to Henry IV, Part 2, probably written in the planning stages of Henry V, Shakespeare changed his mind about continuing with the character of Falstaff. His presence would tend to undermine any seriousness. "Shake-speare, after stuffing his resurrected Lollard with his own inspired irreverence, re-dedicates him on the desperate altar of patriotism; all in the context of an Elizabethan John Wayne war movie" (Eldridge).

The historical Henry V was a national hero and successful warrior king against England's traditional enemy, France. He was the strongest English king before Henry VIII. Henry ascended the throne at the age of 25 in 1413 and died in France at 35 probably of fever complicated with stomach trouble, and according to one account after infernal visitations and pangs of conscience (Goddard, I 247). His imperialist real estate grab did not last long after death under the weak monarch Henry VI.

The standard view is that the material for once was too much for Shakespeare. Military victory is epic, maybe lyrical, but not dramatic matter. "As a propaganda vehicle, the play was superlative, drawing upon 'true events' from the country's past to dramatize how a ragtag, disparate group of people with little in common except one dread sovereign could still achieve a difficult objective, and do so against tremendously long

odds" (Farina 126). While "A spirited and stirring piece of drum-beating and flag-waving," it remains history instead of being transmuted into drama (Goddard, I 215). It can even be considered jingoistic (Asimov 450). On these terms, one must subscribe to militaristic values to like this play. Perhaps Prince Hal was "lovable"; but "King Henry is [at best] merely admirable and, at that, more admirable from a distance" (Asimov 449). This would all be easier if we were given more reason to condemn the French (Wells 155), but presumably the Elizabethan audience would have: Shakespeare is writing in patriotic times.

Yet Shakespeare, while loving England, as Bloom repeatedly reminds us, cared little for the State (which tortured Thomas Kyd, branded Jonson, and maybe murdered Marlowe). And this is the culminating masterpiece after a set of other historical successes. So a closer look is required, and it reveals a lot, indeed an entire reading which contradicts the standard view expressed even in Cliffs Notes and the 1944 Laurence Olivier film. "But grant that Henry is the golden casket of The Merchant of Venice, fairer to a superficial view than to a more searching perception, and instantly the play becomes pervaded with an irony that imparts dramatic value to practically every one of its main scenes" (Goddard, I 266).

Oxfordian perspectives include the notion that the play originally reflects events of 1586, such as the arrest of the Babington conspirators (Clark 772). The propagandistic features would have been particularly timely with war with Spain on the horizon for England, and Oxford's 1586 annuity can be accounted for (Farina 128), as well as the anonymity: "any play would have been more effective if credited to a commoner rather than to a royally subsidized nobleman" (Farina 126).

ACT I

PROLOGUE

"O for a Muse of fire that would ascend / The brightest heaven of invention!" So calls "Chorus," represented by one actor, wishing for adequate skill to convey the glorious material regarding "warlike Harry" (5): perhaps "A kingdom for a stage" (3). Chorus apologizes for the inability to show on stage -- the Globe being a "wooden O" (13) since it is "an apt description of the multisided structures built in the Bankside district along the Thames" (Garber 392) -- battlefields in France and the other scenes necessary for a martial epic. The audience members' imaginations will have to supply these, and horses, and armies. We'll have to "divide one man" "Into a thousand parts" (24) to people the stage: in other words, become butchers? Ultimately, "'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings" (28). It finally sounds as if unless we imagine all this to be glorious, the history itself that we're about to see is pretty sleazy. And it is.

The "ciphers to this great accompt" (17) may also be "the supernumerary O's, men who

worked with O[xford] upon this final draft of the play" (Ogburn and Ogburn 737).

Traditional interpretation would have this prologue to be Shakespeare's own perspective, but do Choruses ever speak for Shakespeare and convey his own attitude? See Troilus and Cressida for a similar distinction between Chorus and the playwright specified (Goddard, I 216). Just one play ago in Henry IV Part 2 this role was filled by the unreliable "Rumor"! And the Epilogue in Henry V here confirms the distinction by referring to the poet separately.

So what is Chorus? Among other things (such as a bridge between times and locales), Chorus' voice is "an abstract of average public opinion" (Goddard, I 217), which elevates Henry to the "mirror of all Christian kings," practically a god (Goddard, I 217). Chorus offers intoxicating martial music before the battle, a warm-up before the show -- but admits to dealing in the delusional (as regards stagecraft). Chorus gives the rah-rah popular idea of this hero and asks us to put an even greater spin on the events and the character; but we may see the truth in the drama itself. Look at the "history," or truth, unadorned by the nationalistic propaganda. Vero nihil verius.

SCENE i

The Archbishop of Canterbury explains to the Bishop of Ely the current church concerns: that a bill before the previous king, Henry IV, had been delayed successfully because of "the scrambling and unquiet time" that it was (I.i.4) , but it's not clear how the new king will lean. This bill would amount to a land grab and deplete the church's coffers significantly, confiscating the better half of the church's wealth. And an estimated thousand-pound annuity is referenced (I.i.19).

Yet, frets Canterbury, all we know about Henry V is that whereas he was a reprobate youth, "In preparation no doubt for the oratory to come, the Archbishop makes much of Henry's new-found rhetorical skill" (Wells 153). Henry's transformation may indicate that he is morally upright now! (Yikes.) He has dissociated himself from vile "popularity" (I.i.59). The churchmen are therefore hopeful: "The strawberry grows underneath the nettle" (I.i.60); and grasses grow quicker at night (I.i.65). It may be worrisome to us that these church officials are praising dark nighttime phenomena and that they seem to be at ease announcing by rote that the ages of "miracles are ceased" (I.i.67) -- whither faith? But as a result of their uncertainty, the church has sent an enormous "offer" (I.i.75) or "sum" (I.i.79) as a bribe, uh, war-chest donation to Henry, earmarked for what is taken for granted to be his pet cause, war with France.

SCENE ii

King Henry V and his lords listen (presumably) to what the Archbishop has researched concerning Salic law, an obscure legal point involving land and inheritance. This is part of the process starting with the temporary pretense that Henry is openminded and undecided about war with France, and then on to a trumped-up justification for the war. (Sound familiar, 21st century?) Before the Archbishop speaks, Henry gives him a long warning about what he is about to say, since thousands of lives hang in the balance. It may signal that Henry is a splendid and concerned king, but after a while it just sounds as if it's placing responsibility on the Archbishop for what is to come. And finally Henry insists that "what you speak is in your conscious wash'd / As pure as sin with baptism" (I.ii.31-32) -- "a suspicious mind might find a Chaucerian ambiguity in that last phrase" (Goddard, I 220), and for a moment our ears hear "as pure as sin...."

The several dozen lines of Canterbury's explanation are completely unclear. Henry's great-great-grandmother was daughter of Philip IV of France. Although Salic law makes succession through female line illegal, the French seem to be hypocritical as regards this restriction (see Asimov 454f). But there's a statute of limitations on this kind of nonsense; and there's irony in this too. Henry's father seized the English throne, now his son proposes seizing the French throne (to wipe out the father's sin)? The Archbishop's speech applies to Henry's situation and undermines the claim. The three cases of French kings inheriting through the female line apply to Henry IV and V, with references to usurpation and guilt echoing Henry IV's situation. Further, if we allow inheritance under the female line, Edmund Mortimer, who is descended from the third son of Edward III through his grandmother, has a prior claim to the English throne over Henry, descended from the fourth son (Goddard, I 222). Just note the pedal point: "deposed" (I.ii.65), "usurp'd" (69), "usurper" (78), "Usurp'd (95).

Then, after obfuscating everything, the Archbishop concludes, "So that, as clear as is the summer's sun..." (I.ii.86), and most productions have everyone laughing. Henry then reiterates the initial question as if nothing had been explained: "May I with right and conscience make this claim?" (I.ii.96). The Archbishop supplies Henry with exactly what he really needs: "The sin upon my head, dread sovereign!" (I.ii.97). He assures Henry that Henry is not responsible here. Now comes the would-be trump card: biblical authority. A phrase from the Book of Numbers taken out of context is trotted forth, making all the previous mumbo-jumbo irrelevant anyway. All this is very shady and far-fetched. But "In Henry's vision, the growing inner self requires an expanding kingdom" (Bloom 324).

In 1586, Leicester's disobedience to the Queen in assuming the sovereignty of the Netherlands (and risking Spanish reprisals therefore) may have motivated the creation of Canterbury's speech (Clark 773-774). This incident may also be responsible for the later reference to general coming from Ireland, lines "generally construed as alluding to Essex in 1599 (Clark 774).

Henry overcomes any lingering scruples after the lords join in rallying him with appeals to ancestral pride in his bloodthirsty forefathers. The council hashes out the problem of leaving the Scottish border undefended, thanks to Henry's ability to take seriously the study of history and its lessons. There's a nice discussion of "government, though high, and low, and lower" (I.ii.180), which includes the Archbishop's bee analogy: "doth heaven divide / The state of man in divers functions" (I.ii.183ff) just as the beehive has a king (?), merchants, soldiers, architects. "The bees, it turns out, have nearly everything in their community that men have except archbishops and armies" (Goddard, I 223) -- although there is reference to the "lazy yawning drone" (I.ii.204). And the analogy is suspicious in its assertion that among bees, "Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, / Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds" (I.ii.193-194). Bees on flowers is not exactly the same as Englishmen killing Frenchmen.

So Henry is resolved: France will be defeated.

Either our history shall with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph. (I.ii.230-233)

Now Henry calls in the French ambassadors. He notes that the coronation gift comes from the "Dolphin" (Dauphin -- son of the king of France), not the King himself. The message is fairly dismissive of Henry, recalling his irresponsible days (possibly now a sore point with him), and the gift is tennis balls, an allusion to Henry's gaming youth and "a symbol of frivolity" (Garber 394). Henry, with controlled fury, takes this as mockery and bends a tennis conceit to an issue of war. Although we hear him insist, "We are no tyrant, but a Christian king, / Unto whose grace our passion is as subject / As is our wretches fett'red in our prisons" (I.ii.241-243), he rails at length against what he considers a mockery of his royalty:... for many a thousand widows Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands; Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down; And some are yet ungotten and unborn That shall have cause to curse the Dolphin's scorn. (I.ii.284-288)It seems as if Henry catches himself at this point, and adds, "But all this lies within the will of God" (I.ii.289). Afterwards, Exeter says, "This was a merry message" (I.ii.298), and he may not mean this grimly; he may be expressing surprise that Henry reacted so strongly and viciously. [A similar moment occurs in The Merchant of Venice, from Bassanio to Antonio (I.iii.142).] But we've already just seen the lengths this administration will go to in order to justify war -- why not exaggerate the significance of tennis balls? Why not turn them into tennis balls of

mass destruction? Henry announces his resolve: "we have now no thought in us but France" (I.iii.302).

The former Prince Hal has "matured" into what Yeats called "a very amiable monster, a very splendid pageant" (qtd. in Bloom 320). Maybe worse. "Being the son of a usurper who had gained the throne by the overthrow and murder of Richard, Henry V did not have a legitimate claim to the throne of England, let alone that of France" (Sutherland 122). Again, familiar.

Dr. Michael Delahoyde Washington State University

HENRY V

ACT II

CHORUS

"Now all the youth of England are on fire, / And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies" (1-2). Chorus indicates that sufficient time has passed so that Henry has been able to raise his army and the funding.

They sell the pasture now to buy the horse, Following the mirror of all Christian kings, With winged heels, as English Mercuries. (5-7)

Chorus says the French have had word that war is coming and are trembling with fear (14) -- see if that's true in scene iv. The French have had time to plot Henry's assassination through three English traitors (or loyalists, from another perspective): Richard Earl of Cambridge, Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and Sir Thomas Grey of Northumberland. "Linger your patience on, and we'll digest / Th' abuse of distance; force a play" (31-32). The phrase means "stuff the play with incidents," but it sounds more questionable. Weirdest, though, Chorus transports us not exactly to Southampton, from which Henry's army will launch, but to a "playhouse now, there you must sit" (36) in Southampton, as if unintentionally to point out the artifice of all of this effort. So our buying into the phoniness is now fake-transported too.SCENE i

"The characters in Scene 1 have no real purpose in the play," claims Cliffs Notes (Carey 319); "they are a dwindling band, and we are often made poignantly conscious of their redundancy to the King's present purposes" (Wells 153). Supposedly they're included by popular demand because of audience adoration from the previous Henry plays. But Shakespeare can subtly work in counterpoint in which the underplot and main plot are intertwined, or resonate from each other. "If Act I ends with a quarrel

made, Act II opens with a quarrel composed" (Goddard, I 226).

A legal claim is at stake again: Mistress Quickly was troth-plighted to Nym, a character much given to alluding to deep things in the vaguest possible way:

I cannot tell; things must be as they may. Men may sleep, and they may have their throats about them at that time, and some say knives have edges. It must be as it may.... (II.i.20-23)

"This is the Nym of The Merry Wives of Windsor complete with his 'humors,' his dark hints, and his affectation of desperate valor" (Asimov 467). His name is related to the German nehmen meaning "to take" and the archaic English nim meaning "to steal" (Asimov 478; cf. Garber 397). But Quickly has married Pistol, a bit of a grandiose poser who, like so many of Shakespeare's low-born, is characterized by his odd use of the English language. At least he has an interesting vocabulary -- "Pish for thee, Iceland dog!" (II.i.42) -- and perhaps touches of euphuism: "The grave doth gape, and doting death is near" (II.i.61). Pistol also owes a debt to Nym, and his boastings ultimately can be taken as juxtaposed with those of Henry, as are Nym's attempts to be enigmatic.

Early Oxfordians stressed Bardolph, Pistol, and Nym as caricatures of Marlowe, Peele, and Kyd (or maybe Greene), though somewhat merged (Ogburn and Ogburn 731). Pistol may well be sporting Marlowe's overblown style (Ogburn and Ogburn 732).

Here, though, with the help of Bardolph -- who has the distinction of appearing in four Shakespeare plays (Asimov 467) -- good sense overcomes hypocrisy, moralizing, and rhetoric: "show thy valor, and put up thy sword" (II.i.43-44); "why the devil should we keep knives to cut one another's throats?" (II.i.91-92). Goddard takes this as Bardolph "unconsciously condensing into a sentence the question of the centuries" (Goddard, I 227).

Then comes news of Falstaff's mortal illness -- all agree, it originates with the king's rejection: "The King has kill'd his heart" (II.i.88); "The King hath run bad humors on the knight, that's the even of it" (II.i.121-122); "Nym, thou hast spoke thee right. / His heart is fracted and corroborate" (II.i.123-124). The malapropism "corroborate" is interesting, but even the intended meaning, "corrupted," has implications since Falstaff at one time called Prince Hal his "heart" (Henry IV, Part 2 V.v.46). In any event, Falstaff in dying brings peace among men, "while Henry, living, makes war" (Goddard, I 227).

SCENE ii

One of his close advisors praises Henry: "Never was monarch better fear'd and lov'd / Than is your Majesty" (II.ii.25-26). But this is a machiavellian formula! The plotting of the three traitors has been revealed to Henry, and he sets them up by announcing he will be merciful with a subject who "rail'd against our person. We consider / It was excess of wine that set him on" (II.ii.41-42). His show of mercy -- "clemency in the limelight" (Goddard, I 228) -- prepares for his viciousness, for

when the three men advise against such leniency, immediately Henry gives each papers that indicate the guilt: "The mercy that was quick in us but late, / By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd" (II.ii.79-80). And so Henry in a long diatribe seems concerned only for the good of the kingdom -- it's not personal. But the men were bent on conspiracy on exactly the same end on which Henry is bent, and with better legal and historical justification: restoration of the throne to a man dispossessed because of female-side succession: Edmund Mortimer. Richard II even designated Mortimer as his heir. So the sins of the three traitors are Henry's own: ingratitude (II.ii.95), from the man who rejected Falstaff? "Treason and murther" (II.ii.105) -- think Richard II. Hypocrisy (II.ii.116ff), from the boy who deceived all England about his youth and embraced Chief Justice in public, aimed a moral discourse at men planning to do what his father had done? (Goddard, I 230). Henry's sanctimoniousness in the devil's hypothetical lines, "I can never win / A soul so easy as that Englishman's" (II.ii.124-125), might additionally refer to anyone buying into the glorious interpretation of Henry. And the king's condemnation of the "traitors" is placed in the play right next to Falstaff's death.

The men exude gratefulness that the scheme was revealed, though they'll die for it. And Henry increasingly name-drops God (II.ii.158, 160, 166, 179, 185, 190). "Henry does indeed appear in this scene to arrogate to himself certain of the prerogatives of God" (Goddard, I 231). Ending the scene, it's off to war: "Cheerly to sea! The signs of war advance! / No king of England, if not king of France!" (II.ii.192-193). The dark joke is that if the reasoning for his claim to the French throne is accurate, then Mortimer is the rightful king of England.

SCENE iii -- The Death of Falstaff

On the one hand, Falstaff could not inhabit this play. His perspective could not be allowed alongside all the military pomp. He is too subversive. "The greatest of all fictive wits dies the death of a rejected father-substitute, and also of a dishonored mentor" (Bloom 272). But his death indicts Henry.

Mistress Quickly reports: "he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom" (II.iii.9-10) -- "a splendidly 'English' malapropism for the biblical phrase 'in Abraham's bosom' (Luke 16:22)" (Garber 397).

'A parted ev'n just between twelve and one, ev'n at the turning o' th' tide; for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his finger's end, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbl'd o' green fields. (II.iii.12-17)

An earlier version of the play read, "His nose was as sharp as a pen on a table of green fields" (II.iii.16-17) -- a reference to the exchequer table which was the Lord Treasurer's "special province"; whereas Falstaff having "babbl'd" of green fields is

not even in character (Ogburn and Ogburn 729). So at one time Falstaff may have represented Burghley, though clearly the creation ended up evolving far beyond.

"How now, Sir John?" quoth I, "what, man? be a' good cheer." So 'a cried out "God, God, God!" three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him 'a should not think of God; I hop'd there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. (II.iii.17-22)

The "God" repetitions on his deathbed echo Henry's speech from the previous scene, but when Henry invokes the name of God it's to sanctify his bloody impulses; contrariwise, when Falstaff calls out, Mistress Quickly tells him not to think of God -- a humane and comforting impulse (Goddard, I 232). Quickly's account then "clearly alludes to Plato's story of the death of Socrates" (Bloom 292): the report that Falstaff gradually turned cold in dying may serve metaphorically to the death of the human side of Henry -- he too seems to have become "as cold as any stone" (II.iii.25-26).

Falstaff's friends recall a few incidents, but must hit the road to war. Pistol's call, "Let us to France" (II.iii.55), is antiphonal with Henry's call in the previous scene: "Now, lords, for France" (II.ii.182); but Pistol continues with an interesting metaphor: "Let us to France, like horse-leeches, my boys, / To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck!" (II.iii.55-56).

SCENE iv

The French king (Charles VI who historically was actually insane at the time), the Dauphin, and French Dukes argue over just how large a threat Henry is. The Dauphin insolently ridicules Henry but others consider him much more dangerous. Exeter arrives with a message from Henry: surrender the crown or prepare for slaughter. The French must prepare to

Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy On the poor souls for whom this hungry war Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head, Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries, The dead men's blood, the privy maidens' groans, For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers, That shall be swallow'd in this controversy. (II.iv.104-109)

But I thought we were supposed to "leave gormandizing" (Henry IV, Part 2 V.v.53). The French King will answer tomorrow.

"In April 1392 Charles VI fell ill of a fever, underwent convulsions, and suffered enough brain damage to make him a mental cripple. From then to the end of his life (a period of thirty years) he alternated between raving madness and a

precarious sanity.... The madness of Charles VI is not referred to directly in this play (perhaps because the English monarchs of Shakespeare's day were descended from him and Queen Elizabeth I was his great-great-great-granddaughter)" (Asimov 464).

Dr. Michael Delahoyde Washington State University

HENRY V

ACT III

CHORUS

Chorus tells us of Henry landing in France and instructs us, "Play with your fancies" (7). The King has offered his daughter Katherine and some minor lands (30-31), but not the crown, so the offer has been rejected. A cannon was shot off, "And down goes all" (34) -- a Chaucerian echo (i.e., Knight's Tale 2613, Miller's Tale 3821).

SCENE i

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; / Or close the wall up with our British dead" (III.i.1-2). So begins Henry's rousing, inspirational oratory to the troops. He continues to explain that manly virtues are fine, but in war one must transform oneself, or contrive oneself (in advance), into a savage beast.

Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favor'd rage; Then lend the eye a teriible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it.... (III.i.6-11)

The attitude is diametrically opposed by other plays consistent in their condemnation of such dehumanizing (e.g., Hector in Troilus and Cressida; and Sonnet 94). Fury in Shakespeare is always reprehensible. "The game's afoot! / Follow your spirit; and upon this charge / Cry, 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'" (III.i.32-34). Woo. But "Henry's idea of war and the warrior is as antithetical to the classical as to the chivalric conception" (Goddard, I 236). Besides, "dear friends"? Give me a break.

SCENE ii

"On, on, on, on on! To the breach, to the breach" (III.ii.1) is Bardolph's less eloquent echo, or reduction, of Henry's speech. He, Nym, Pistol, and the Boy are present, and Nym obliquely offers an interesting comment on Henry's rallying call: "The humor of it is too hot, that is the very plain-song of it" (III.ii.5-6). He and Pistol are not anxious to die, but Fluellen, a Welsh officer obsessed by Greco-Roman military precedents, urges them on. The Boy soliloquizes a lament about how dishonorable the batch is.

They would have me as familiar with men's pockets as their gloves of their handkerchers; which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from another's pocket to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service. Their villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. (III.ii.47-53)

Fluellen, obsessed with the "disciplines" and the "directions," and Gower, another Welsh officer, speak with the Duke of Gloucester and the Irish Captain Macmorris who are "mining" under the city of Harfleur. Fluellen admires the Scots Captain Jamy but not Macmorris, who is in a rage about inadequate progress on the mine-digging. Gower has to break up a near-fight when Fluellen makes what Macmorris hypersensitively takes to be a crack about the Irish. Macmorris vows, "So Chrish save me, I will cut off your head" (III.ii.134) -- not that far perhaps from Henry's blend of God and violence (Goddard, I 237).

The prototype for Fluellen seems to have been Sir Roger Williams, a retainer of the Earl of Oxford (according to a letter from Francis Vere to Cecil) who published A Brief Discourse of War, with his opinions concerning some part of Martial Discipline in 1590, and The Actions of the Low Countries much later but from which many of Fluellen's utterances originate (R.L. Miller, in Clark 785-790; cf. Ogburn and Ogburn 733, Farina 129).

SCENE iii

Henry threatens slaughter of virgins and infants, bashing out the brains of old men and threatening "Your naked infants spitted upon pikes" (III.iii.38), if Harfleur does not surrender. Asimov attempts to preserve Henry's character by emphasizing that "War is something which makes even a king such as Henry V speak in such abominable terms as these" (Asimov 481). But Henry's pattern of blaming others recurs as he rhetorically asks Harfleur, "What is 't to me, when you yourselves are cause...?" (III.iii.19). Henry, pronounced "free from vainness and self-glorious pride" after two plays showing how he wanted to imitate the sun and astound the world by emerging suddenly from behind the clouds, is a savage now.

The Governor has heard that the Dauphin is not ready to send help and so does surrender. Henry entrusts the town to Exeter.

SCENE iv

Katherine, the daughter of the French King, tries to learn some basic English from Alice, her better travelled gentlewoman. She learns the words for fingers and nails, elbow, neck, chin, etc. But she has trouble with a couple words that, in English, sound like vulgar French words. So when Alice pronounces the English word "gown" as "cown," it sounds like the French "con" -- close enough to the English vulgarism for me not to spell it out literally. And "foot" sounds like the French "foutre" as in "Va te faire foutre!" So there's the joke, but what's the larger point of this scene?

Even aside from the bilingual homonyms, could Shakespeare or anyone have managed to compose this scene unless he or she had travelled? (Anderson xxx; cf. Farina 128).

SCENE v

Meanwhile, the French rulers discuss the English problem. The Dauphin and the Duke of Britain report,

Our madams mock at us, and plainly say Our mettle is bred out, and they will give Their bodies to the lust of English youth To new-store France with bastard warriors.

They bid us to the dancing-schools, And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos, Saying our grace is only in our heels, And that we are most lofty runaways. (III.v.28-35)

Of the nobles called to arms we get "a sonorous and rolling list [III.v.40ff] but it has a grim dramatic irony in it, for it is the list (taken from Holinshed) of those who in a short while are to be dead or captive" (Asimov 486). The King sends his armies, commanding that the Dauphin remain with him in Rouen. The Dauphin is displeased with this.

SCENE vi

In Picardy, Fluellen commends the Duke of Exeter to Gower: "he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony, and he is a man of no estimation in the world, but I did see him do as gallant service" (III.vi.13-15). Pistol arrives and asks Fluellen to intercede for Bardolph, "For he hath stol'n a pax, and hanged must 'a be" (III.vi.40). A pax is a small plate used to hold communion wafers, or a picture of the crucifixion which people kissed (Asimov 487), so Bardolph stole from a church. Fluellen will not interfere with proper discipline and Pistol leaves levelling

insults and "figo" (III.vi.57) at Fluellen. Gower tells Fluellen that Pistol is a knave, but he also presents an anatomy of the development of war stories (III.vi.69ff).

Henry arrives and is told by Fluellen that none of their men was lost but for Bardolph for his theft. Henry pronounces:

We would have all such offenders so cut off; and we give express charge that in our marches through the country there be nothing compell'd from the villages; nothing taken but paid for; none of the French upbraided or abus'd in disdainful language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner. (III.vi.107-113)

Henry has an exchange with a French herald, Montjoy, who reports that the French King claims Henry "hath betray'd his followers, whose condemnation is pronounc'd" (III.vi.134-135). Henry orders his troops to march to the bridge. We are on the verge of the battle of Agincourt. "We are in God's hands, brother, not in theirs" (III.vi.168-169).

Perhaps his disregard for adversaries, foreign and domestic, is enjoyable. But he disregards his friends too. Bardolph's execution echoes Falstaff's rejection. And isn't this a bit hypocritical? What about that bribe at beginning of this play? Isn't that also ecclesiastical property being appropriated, and more reprehensible for not being merely a petty crime? The supposedly kinder gentler Henry even says now that his soldiers may not call the French bad names! Slimy Lancastrians.

SCENE vii

"Will it never be morning?" (III.vii.6). The French, including the Dauphin who is present despite his father's command, discuss their horses and mistresses. They know they outnumber the English and brag that they'll each capture skads of Brits tomorrow. Lord Rambures asks the Constable of France, "My Lord Constable, the armor that I saw in your tent to-night, are those stars or suns upon it?" (III.vii.69-70). "Stars," he answers. Goddard says of the scene, "It is all like some hopelessly overconfident university football squad contemptuous of the team of a backwoods college that by some freak of fortune they have been compelled to condescend to play" (Goddard, I 240).

Dr. Michael Delahoyde Washington State University

HENRY V

ACT IV

CHORUS

Chorus paints the scene of both camps on the night before the battle. Again, we are instructed to supply our imaginations to the material. We'll be getting "A little

touch of Harry in the night" (47). Chorus laments the fact that there will be low-class characters included in the scenes, disgracing "The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see, / Minding true things by what their mock'ries be" (52-53). So goofy underplots reveal truths....

SCENE i

Henry tells Gloucester that although it's true they are disastrously outnumbered, "There is some soul of goodness in things evil" (IV.i.4): the better to rally courage among the English. Sir Thomas Erpingham is glad and honored to be here with the King. Henry buys himself some time: "I and my bosom must debate a while" (IV.i.31).

Henry, perhaps borrowing a cloak, disguising himself enough to wander among the common soldiers at night. Is this another manifestation of the Shakespeare insomnia (Ogburn and Ogburn 472)? He encounters first Pistol, who asks, "art thou officer, / Or art thou base, common, and popular?" (IV.i.37-38). Henry presents himself as "Harry le Roy" to Pistol, who is trash-talking Fluellen.

Fluellen and Gower pass by, Fluellen griping that there's too much chatter: "If you would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle taddle nor pibble babble in Pompey's camp" (IV.i.68-71). Gower notes that the enemy camp is making noise, but Fluellen asks everyone's mother's question: "If the enemy is an ass and a fool, and a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, look you, be an ass and a fool, and a prating coxcomb, in you own conscience now?" (IV.i.77-80). Henry secretly decides that Fluellen is a bit weird -- "out of fashion" (IV.i.83) -- but okay.

Henry chances upon three soldiers: John Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Williams -- the stuff England is made of. These genuine men speculate about the King, and Henry first insists on his common humanity with them, although with an elitist falconry metaphor: "though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet when they stoop, they stoop with the like wing" (IV.i.106-107). This scene purportedly shows Henry as simple, modest, democratic -- if this were Henry (see Goddard). Under the cover of night and costume, he becomes almost the old Hal. He had to disguise himself to become king; now he must disguise himself to become a man. The soldiers, on the other hand, have the courage of hopelessness. Discussion turns to the King's "cause being just and his quarrel honorable." "That's more than we know" (IV.i.127-129), says Williams.

But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs, and arms, and heads, chopp'd off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day and cry all, "We died at such a place" -- some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I

am afeard there are few die well that die in battle; for how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the King that led them to it.... (IV.i.134-145)

Williams knows the grisly consequences will befall only the commoners and wonders if the cause for the war is just. Asimov dismisses Williams as "gloomy" and someone "who even dares to wonder openly" about the justice of the cause for which they are fighting (Asimov 492). Asimov focuses on the style of the encounter, with the King answering Williams "so vigorously that it comes to a quarrel" (Asimov 493), without addressing the content of the debate. Henry's response is a long prose speech against the logic of holding the king responsible: a speech amounting to "squirming sophistry" (Goddard, I 242).So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be impos'd upon his father that sent him; or if a servant, under his master's command transporting a sum of money, be assail'd by robbers and die in many ireconcil'd iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant's damnation. But this is not so. The King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers.... (IV.i.147-156)Henry then supposes the soldiers who die may have already accrued other sins: "Now, if these men have defeated the law and outrun native punishment, though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God" (IV.i.166-169). So war is God's way of winnowing sinners. "The King was willing to put the responsibility on an archbishop but he is unwilling to let his soldiers put the responsibility on a king" (Goddard, I 242). Henry insists that he heard the King say he "would not be ransom'd." Williams retorts, "Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully; but when our throats are cut, he may be ransom'd, and we ne'er the wiser" (IV.i.190-194). Rather than fight now, Williams and Henry agree to wear each other's tokens, and if they live, meet after the battle and duel. Williams says, "Keep thy word; fare thee well" (IV.i.221).

Then alone, Henry delivers a deep democratic speech about how tough it is to be a king, and how comparatively stressless to be a peasant: what an idyllic life led by the wretched.

And what have kings, that privates have not too, Save ceremony, save general ceremony? And what art thou, thou idol Cermony? (IV.i.238-240)

Queen Elizabeth had said at some unknown time, "To be a king and wear a crown is more glorious to them that see it than it is a pleasure to them that bear it" (qtd. in Ogburn and Ogburn 730). Henry's dissertation on Ceremony all sounds good but doesn't tend to translate into his deeds.

Erpingham returns and calls Henry to a meeting of the nobles. Henry has one more lone moment, during which he prays to "the God of battles" (IV.i.289) -- Mars?

Not to-day, O Lord, O, not to-day, think not upon the fault My father made in compassing the crown! I Richard's body have interred new, And on it have bestowed more contrite tears, Than from it issued forced drops of blood. Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built Two chauntries, where the sad and solemn priests Still sing for Richard's soul. More will I do; Though all that I can do is nothing worth, Since that my penitence comes after all, Imploring pardon. (IV.i.292-305)

Regarding Henry's supposed penance regarding Richard II, "The best gloss on these lines is suggested by Claudius in Hamlet, when he, kneeling, strives to pray for forgiveness":... but O, what form of prayer Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'? That cannot be, since I am still possessed Of those effects for which I did the murder-- My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. (qtd. in Goddard, I 245)

SCENE ii

The French are still overconfident and talking first about their horses and then about how far they outnumber the paltry English: "There is not work enough for all our hands, / Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins / To give each naked curtle-axe a stain" (IV.ii.19-21). Even "The vapor of our valor will o'erturn them" (IV.ii.24). The "knavish crows [are] impatient for their hour" (IV.i.51-52).

SCENE iii

The five to one outnumbering of the English gives pause to Exeter and others, and Westmerland remarks, "O that we now had here / But one ten thousand of those men in England / That do no work to-day!" (IV.iii.16-18). But Henry sees the outnumbering as mathematically for the greater glory of each of them: "The fewer men, the greater share of honor" (IV.iii.22). And by logical extension, even fewer English would be even better; and Westmoreland afterwards follows this through by wishing it were only he and the King fighting on the English side (IV.iii.74-75).

Here though is the gloriously ludicrous St. Crispin's Day speech. "His speeches before Harfleur and at Agincourt have become the most admired pieces of war rhetoric in the language" (Wells 155) -- by half-wits.

This day is call'd the feast of Crispian: He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a' tiptoe when this day is named, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that see live this day, and live old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors, And say, "To-morrow is Saint Crispian." Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say, "These wounds I had on Crispin's day." (IV.iii.40-48)

The rousing anticipation of how in the future everyone will look back on St. Crispin's Day and ask about the wounds you received today is followed by the expectation that their names will live on, "Familiar in his mouth as household words" (IV.iii.52). Henry honors "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers, / For he to-day that sheds his blood with me / Shall be my brother" (IV.iii.60-62).

"He is very stirred; so are we; but neither we nor he believes a word he says. The common soldiers fighting with their monarch are not going to become gentlemen, let alone nobles, and 'the ending of the world' is a rather grand evocation for an imperialist land grab that did not long survive Henry V's death, as Shakespeare's audience knew too well" (Bloom 320).

More penetrating still, who in hell ever heard of St. Crispin's Day?! What a joke! St. Crispin is the patron saint of shoemakers, or maybe two brothers hiding out in the eighth century as shoemakers before being beheaded (Asimov 495)! How arbitrary can you get?

Montjoy serves as herald to the Constable of France, and Henry send a long defiant statement back (IV.iii.90-125).

SCENE iv

On the battlefield, somehow Pistol has captured a French soldier. He rants, threatens, and misinterprets French words until the Boy helps translate a ransom deal, or bribe. Afterwards, the Boy's comment on Pistol is that "The empty vessel makes the greatest sound" (IV.iv.69). He reports that both Bardolph and Nym are hanged now, the latter presumably for desertion (Asimov 498), and he worries about his own fate since only boys are left guarding the equipment.

SCENE v

The French realize they are faring poorly and bemoan their shame.

SCENE vi

The bloody but touching deaths of Suffolk and York, who have played no real parts in the drama, are reported by Exeter. Immediately afterwards, apparently due to an alarum, Henry orders that his soldiers kill all their prisoners. These "polar reversals" are chilling (Goddard, I 249). And the issue of Henry's ordering the prisoners killed may make him a war criminal (Sutherland 108-116).

SCENE vii

This odd scene includes some arguing between Fluellen and Gower "among the still-smoking corpses of the 'poys' -- including Pistol's young friend of whom we have grown rather fond" (Sutherland 113). Gower reports that because of the French slaughter of the boys guarding the luggage, "the King, most worthily, hath caus'd every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat" (IV.vii.8-10). "Surely, 'worthily' is the wrong adjective. The King might much better have done it 'sorrowfully' or 'regretfully' or even 'wrathfully.' 'Worthily' sounds sarcastic" (Asimov 501). Discussion soon concerns whether Henry is Welsh or not and which region he's from. Fluellen reflects on Alexander the Great, or the Big, or as his accent renders it, "Alexander the Pig" (IV.vii.13). This symbol of insatiable lust for blood and conquest Fluellen matches up with Henry, albeit in spurious ways. He proceeds "by the same comparative method exemplified in Plutarch's Parallel Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans" (Garber 405).

I tell you, captain, if you look in the maps of the orld, I warrant you sall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon, and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth. It is call'd Wye at Monmouth; but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. (IV.vii.23-31)

"One great conqueror or "pig" is much like another" (Bloom 323). But while Alexander "did, in his ales and his angers, look you, kill his best friend, Clytus" (IV.vii.37-39), Gower points out that "Our King is not like him in that; he never kill'd any of his friends" (IV.vii.40-41). Fluellen corrects him on this:as Alexander kill'd his friend Clytus, being in his ales and his cups; so also Harry Monmouth, being in his right wits and his good judgments, turn'd away the fat knight with the great belly doublet. He was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks -- I have forgot his name. (IV.vii.44-50)

This scene functions as "Shakespeare's last judgment on the rejection of Falstaff" (Goddard, I 249). The Alexander / Henry parallels suggest rage-aholism, but at least Alexander had the excuse of being drunk when he killed his friend; what was

Henry's? A moment later Henry enters and insists he was always in his right mind: he was never angry "Until this instant" (IV.vii.56). So, ironically, he unintentionally certifies that he finally is responsible: that is, guilty.

Henry seems horrified by the slaughter of the boys and announces, "we'll cut the throats of those we have, / And not a man of them that we shall take / Shall taste our mercy" (IV.vii.63-65). But they already cut their prisoners' throats supposedly -- who's left? And the reasoning for this brutality looks like ex post facto justification (Sutherland 113).

Montjoy comes to ask for permission for the French to attend their dead. Henry must learn that the English have won the day. "Praised be God, and not our strength, for it!" (IV.vii.87). Despite the fact that the English commoners won the war for Henry, "instead of expressing gratitude to the Bateses and Courts and Williamses of his army of yeomen, Henry characteristically attributes his triumph wholly to God.... It ends by looking less like giving thanks to God for the victory than like putting the responsibility on God" (Goddard, I 255).It turns out that Henry doesn't even know the name of the castle nearby this fateful battle. Told it is Agincourt, he announces, "Then call we this the field of Agincourt" (IV.vii.90). Duh!

Then that wascally Henwy pulls a switcheroo and gives Fluellen the glove so that Williams will pick a fight with him. A reference to Henry's battle with John, Duke of Alençon (IV.vii.154f), ignores the part about Henry having been beaten down and saved only by his guard. He yanked a glove from the Duke at that moment? (Asimov 505). Fluellen thanks the King for the honor (of being smacked). Henry has a chortle over the coming violence with Warwick and Gloucester.

SCENE viii

Williams recognizes the glove and strikes Fluellen. The King and others arrive and the trick is revealed. Clearly Henry will not make good his vow, despite how honorable Williams comes off in this scene: "Your majesty came not like yourself. You appear'd to me as but a common man; witness the night, your garments, your lowliness" (IV.viii50-52). Henry has a glove filled with crowns, and Fluellen offers an additional twelvepence, but Williams rejects the pay-off pressed upon him: "I will none of your money" (IV.viii.67). So "Here is a man who has no price" (Goddard, I 254).

This scene with Williams poses the question: which is greater, man or king? Henry compounds his honor for crowns, just as his father had done for the English crown. After Williams leaves, Henry is concerned only with the nobles who have died. It's clear (and historical) that he owes victory to the common soldiers, but he says, "O God, thy arm was here; / And not to us, but to thy arm alone, / Ascribe we all!" (IV.viii.106-108; cf. 111-112, 115-116, 120). "To give God the credit is to give

God the responsibility" (Sutherland 123). Henry seems to confuse Mars with God anyway. He commands that Non nobisand Te Deum be sung: "not us," but "to God."

The rah-rah view is that Agincourt represents a dashing hero leading his army with indomitable courage against a foe overwhelmingly outnumbering them. But is there evidence of Henry's part in battle in Act IV (Goddard, I 256)? The impression that this is a model hero leading his army of "brothers" is an impression from Chorus and from Henry's rhetoric. We almost do see things that are not there. But it really seems as if Henry witnessed the war at a vantage point instead of being in the battle (Goddard, I 257). Unlike his Shrewsbury involvement, Henry apparently did not come to the aid of York! Henry is growing more like his father, like Henry IV at Shrewsbury (Goddard, I 258). The Olivier film version is memorable in making Henry V an active participant, but it's not Shakespeare. This Agincourt act consists of Pistol (!) capturing a French gentleman; the French lamenting their shame; Henry weeping at the deaths of York and Suffolk, and ordering soldiers to kill all prisoners; Fluellen comparing Henry to Alexander; and Henry breaking his word of honor with Williams (Henry offers money which Williams rejects). That's it.

Dr. Michael Delahoyde Washington State University

HENRY V

ACT V

CHORUS

Chorus commands our imaginations to transport Henry to "Callice" [Calais] and then across the sea to England:

You may imagine him upon Blackheath; Where that his lords desire him to have borne His bruised helmet and his bended sword Before him through the city. He forbids it, Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride; Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent Quite from himself to God. (16-22)

I'm afraid I'm imagining other reasons why Henry is not putting his supposedly battered gear on display.... Again, no evidence that he really involved himself on the battlefield.

Although comparisons with conquering Caesar have been declared always disparaging in Shakespeare (Goddard, I 259), the London populace,

Like to the senators to th' antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, 

Go forth and fetch their conqu'ring Caesar in; As by a lower but by loving likelihood, Were now the general of our gracious Empress, As in good time he may, from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him! (26-34)

Orthodoxy will continue to insist that the General alluded to here is Essex and the Empress of course Elizabeth. But the Irish venture was a fiasco, and the Oxfordian proposal of a composition date in the 1580s and the reference being to Thomas Butler, Elizabeth's commanding general in Ireland then, makes more sense (e.g., Ogburn and Ogburn 710). Or with Holland disguised under the Ireland reference, Chorus may be alluding to Leicester overstepping in the 1580s (Ogburn and Ogburn 734).

And then, making all of this a rather pointless exercise of our imaginations, we zip over again to France. The gap between the material from Chorus and what we see on stage has widened.

The phrase "Then brook abridgment" (44) -- meaning "tolerate omissions" -- puns on Brook's Abridgment, published 1573/74, 1576, 1586, as the best legal textbook before Coke's (Ogburn and Ogburn 737).

SCENE i

Fluellen is wearing a leek past the day (St. Davy's day) on which it is a Welsh custom (see Asimov 491f). He tells Gower that Pistol arrogantly insulted him by mocking the custom, and when he sees Pistol he beats him and forces him to eat the leek. After subjecting him, Fluellen gives Pistol "a groat [fourpence] to heal your pate" (V.i.58-59): an instance of throwing money at someone to justify shoving something down that person's throat.

Fluellen leaves, and Gower somewhat sanctimoniously insults Pistol too. Afterwards, Pistol reports further dejection in that he has learned that his wife -- "Doll" as a misprint for "Nell"? (Asimov 512) -- has died from "a malady of France" (V.i.82): syphilis.

Old I do wax, and from my weary limbs Honor is cudgell'd. Well, bawd I'll turn, And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. To England will I steal, and there I'll steal; (V.i.84-87)

In other words, Henry's wars have provided an education and opportunity for this final real result: a hardened criminal.

SCENE ii

Act V is often seen as "the worst anticlimax in any of Shakespeare's greater plays" (Goddard, I 261). The poet seems to have run out of material, so the act is viewed as an epilogue essentially. At best, the act serves as a culmination among the history plays, ending "as comedies conventionally do, with a marriage, one that will unite realms as well as hearts" (Wells 156).

But the real effect of this act is to show us the final Machiavellian insidiousness of Henry as he cuts such a sorry figure as a suitor -- and it doesn't matter, since the "conquest" here is already a done deal, a foregone conclusion (Goddard, I 263). So Henry greets the King and Queen as "our brother France" and "our sister" (V.ii.2), with Princess Katherine "our most fair and princely cousin" (V.ii.4). Historically, the Dauphin died two months after Agincourt (Asimov 509). Queen Isabel expresses the hope that Henry's eyes have lost their murderous quality (V.ii.13ff), and the Duke of Burgundy makes an honorable speech about peace -- "sincere, profound, and imaginative, a touchstone" (Goddard, I 262) -- including some horticultural metaphors reminiscent of Richard II. But Henry reduces it to the level of concessions to his conquest, to "commodity": "you must buy that peace" (V.ii.70). The French, along with the Queen, will review the list of demands while Henry speaks with the Princess. He demanded her from her father as a condition of settlement: "our capital demand" (V.ii.96).

It's a bit horrifying that the country's leaders act as if nothing has really happened. "What it all adds up to is that the Battle of Agincourt was the royal equivalent of the Gadshill robbery" (Goddard, I 260). The scene amounts to more forced leek-eating, but under the sugar-coating of Ceremony, which Henry had deconstructed earlier. What a hypocrite! "Henry V made himself into something that comes too close for comfort to Machiavelli's ideal prince.... Richard III was a mere bungler: he was still conscious of his evil" (Goddard, I 267).

Henry's "wooing" of Katherine -- or as he calls her, Kate -- comes off superficially as the charming comical awkwardness of a soldier wooing an aristocratic lady. But Katherine knows that "the tongues of men are full of deceits" (V.ii.117-118), and for all his insistences on lacking eloquence he certainly does go on for a long time speechifying at her. Katherine asks, "Is it possible dat I sould love de ennemie of France?" (V.ii.169-170). To Henry, and probably most others, the match with Katherine is a marriage of nations, not of humans. So Henry can answer that he is not the enemy of France -- quite the opposite. That this marriage is about rapacity for land rather than love is clear from Henry's rhapsodizing about France itself (V.ii.172-176). At best, after some banter about the language barrier, "I love thee cruelly" (V.ii.202-203), "he protests, letting slip a Janus-faced adjective" (Goddard, I 264). He thinks calling her "a good soldier-breeder" (V.ii.206) is an appeal to maternal instincts. (And

besides, it'll be Henry VI they produce, not the world conqueror Henry envisions here.) After substantially more dissertation from Henry, Katherine punctures the hypocrisy of all this -- the pretense that any fate is in her hands -- by noting that the match is entirely up to her father (V.ii.247). Although the Princess and Alice insist it is not French custom for ladies to kiss before marriage, Henry forces his mouth on hers.

The French nobles return, and Burgundy explains Katherine's resistence as maidens' natural modesty regarding Cupid. Henry declares, "Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces" (V.ii.300-301). Historically, Henry married Catherine de Valois on 2 June 1420 (Asimov 517). Here, it may not be so much a marriage as a rape dressed up in "Ceremony." With the French conceding all, the "conquest" is achieved and all look forward, incorrectly as the audience knows, to a lasting peace.

An Epilogue in the form of a sonnet distinguishes the speaker Chorus from the playwright:

Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen, Our bending author hath pursu'd the story, In little room confining mighty men, Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. Small time; but in that small most greatly lived This star of England. (Epi. 1-6)

The Epilogue points out the ultimate futility of all this pomp, manipulation, and warfare, since Henry VI will lose France, "Which oft our stage hath shown" (Epi. 13). So "The sense of history as progressive is replaced by the sense of history as cyclical" (Sutherland 124). At best, for Shakespeare, "his essential, his persistent, his heartfelt theme" is included in the leaving of a kingdom to a son (Ogburn and Ogburn 1199).Henry V died on August 31, 1422. He was thirty-five years old and he had reigned not quite ten years. Ironically, the mad King of France outlived him, so that Henry V never succeeded to the throne he had won. (Asimov 518)

He died "probably of a fever complicated with stomach trouble, and, according to one account, after infernal visitations and acute pangs of conscience" (Goddard, I 247). God, I love this play!