ACT IV
SCENE i
The Archbishop of York, Mowbray, Lord Bardolph, Hastings, and other
rebels await word on the size of the army led by one of Hal's brother's,
Prince John of Lancaster. Northumberland has weaseled out again --
perhaps Falstaff-like -- and sends them his best. Royalist Westmoreland
brings a message and inquires about the Archbishop's traitorous behavior:
SCENE ii
"The most decisive and successful leader in this play, Prince John,
is also its least attractive character," and possibly "as the Prince
of Wales comes closer to the throne, so he comes more closely to
resemble his younger brother" (Wells 149). Prince John greets Mowbray,
Hastings, and the Archbishop. He convinces them to lay down arms and
disband the army, then betrays his word and arrests them for treason.
SCENE iii
A rebel soldier, Colevile, who knows Falstaff by his girth, surrenders
to him. Prince John, Westmoreland, and Sir Blunt arrive and Prince John
mocks Falstaff's cowardice. Falstaff acts hurt -- "I never knew yet but
rebuke and check was the reward of valor" (IV.iii.31-32) -- instead
comparing himself with Caesar for capturing the one supposedly dangerous
enemy: "I came, saw, and overcame" (IV.iii.41-42). Falstaff threatens
that if his deed is not recorded with other valiant deeds of the day,
he will have the event published in a broadside, with an image of
Colevile kissing his foot.
Historically, Prince John was responsible for bringing the Lollard,
Sir John Oldcastle, back to London for trial in 1417, and he was also
present at the execution: Oldcastle's roasting over a slow fire. So
this encounter in the play has a chilling hidden significance (Asimov
408).
Captives are to be taken to York for execution and the Prince must go
visit his ill father the King. John tells Falstaff he "Shall better
speak of you than you deserve" (IV.iii.85), and afterwards Falstaff
soliloquizes on his disregard for Prince John, who, of all things,
doesn't drink: "this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me,
nor a man cannot make him laugh, but that's no marvel, he drinks no
wine" (IV.iii.87-89). Falstaff renders a discourse on the benefits
of alcohol, including a kind of chemical anatomy of wit. He tells
Bardolph he will take up with Justice Shallow now.
SCENE iv
Henry, in his sick room, still babbles to his sons Thomas and Humphrey,
and to Warwick, about crusading to the Holy Land. He asks about Hal and
is disappointed to learn that the heir to the throne remains among his
lowlife companions. Henry instructs Thomas in being a wise counselor,
to his own future advantage. Good news about the end of the rebellion
arrives, and Northumberland too has been defeated. Northumberland had,
in Richard II, betrayed and hounded Richard; in Henry IV,
Part 1 had betrayed Henry and then his own son; and in this
play betrayed the Archbishop of York. So we're pleased to be rid
of this guy finally (Asimov 409).
Hal's and Oxford's "zest for bohemian ways" had been at stake in early
versions of this material. In the final revision of the play, however,
Oxford may have speculated on the death of his monarch and perhaps his
own death: see Clarence's words (IV.iv.125-128) in this regard (Ogburn
and Ogburn 727), and the fact that Henry was a man of action, not a
great thinker (IV.iv.102ff). This is perhaps Oxford "exhausted from
intense intellectual activity" (Ogburn and Ogburn 1194).
SCENE v
Henry goes to another room and asks for his crown to be placed on
the pillow beside him. Hal now enters and thinks Henry is dead. He
remarks on the cares of the crown, sort of, and puts it on:
Taking the crown while the monarch is still alive may refer to
the Essex Rebellion (Ogburn and Ogburn 1193). In any case, Henry
wakes up and calls for the others. He learns that Hal was in the
room and laments the future of the kingdom with a suspect bee
analogy (IV.v.74f). Henry summons his heir, accusing Hal of being
overly zealous in snatching the crown:
Hal finally defends himself, claiming he had been too grief-stricken
to speak: "O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears, / The moist
impediments unto my speech, / I had forestall'd this dear and
deep rebuke" (IV.v.138-140). He protests his devotion to his father
and says he was heart-stricken to find what he thought was the death
of Henry: "If I do feign, / O, let me in my present wildness die"
(IV.v.151-152). He claims was merely upbraiding the crown ("bad
crown!"), not being avaricious.
Goddard makes much of the fact that Prince John enters at this
precise point (Goddard, I 197). Others enter, and Henry learns
that the room in which he is dying is called the Jerusalem Chamber.
Henry IV died on 20 March 1413 at the age of 47 (Asimov 413). As
composer and American national treasure Carmen Lombardo wrote so
eloquently, "Boo Hoo."
Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood,
The Archbishop says that the King is a disease, and further grievances
are aired by all: "When we are wrong'd and would unfold our griefs, /
We are denied access unto his person / Even by those men that most have
done us wrong" (IV.i.77-79) -- a complaint also at the heart of the
1601 Essex "Rebellion." The debate continues, but Westmoreland eventually
gets to the point: Prince John is not only willing to give them audience
but may be persuaded by their case. Mowbray is distrustful, but Hastings
and the Archbishop give this a positive reading: the King is too beset
with problems to snub this opportunity for peace.
Your pens to lances, your tongue divine
To a loud trumpet and a point of war?
(IV.i.50-52)
His foes are so enrooted with his friends
So they will meet with Prince John. "Our peace will, like a broken limb
united, / Grow stronger for the breaking" (IV.i.220-221).
That, plucking to unfix an enemy,
He doth unfasten so and shake a friend,
So that this land, like an offensive wife
That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes,
As he is striking, holds his infant up
And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm
That was uprear'd to execution.
(IV.i.205-212)
I promis'd you redress of these same grievances
Thus John succeeds over the rebel forces by means of a cold, calculated
ruse, not by any valor. He represents a new machiavellian sort of
political expediency and efficiency. Historically, the betrayal was
carried out by Westmoreland, Lancaster being only 16 years old at the
time (Asimov 406). Oxfordians have speculated about John being a
depiction of Burghley, but certainly his son Robert Cecil fits the
unscrupulous bill (Ogburn and Ogburn 728). Consider the accession
of James (IV.ii.82ff) that some see possibly alluded to here (Ogburn
and Ogburn 1194).
Whereof you did complain, which, by mine honor,
I will perform with a most Christian care.
(IV.i.113-115)
Lo where it sits,
Hal takes the crown into another room.
Which God shall guard; and put the world's whole strength
Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honor from me. This from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.
(IV.v.43-47)
Thou hast stol'n that which after some few hours
Henry continue a long tirade, again expressing dread over the
future of the kingdom under the rule of Hal.
Were thine without offense, and at my death
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation.
(IV.v.101-103)
Thus, my most royal liege,
(Has Hal learned some tricks from Falstaff?)
Henry believes him and is relieved. "God knows, my son, / By what
by-paths and indirect crook'd ways / I met this crown" (IV.v.183-185).
He wishes Hal a peaceful reign and gives some quick advice about ruling,
including this gem: "Therefore, my Harry, / Be it thy course to busy
giddy minds / With foreign quarrels" (IV.v.213-214). "This course of
advocating a foreign war merely to solve domestic problems seems to us
today to be completely immoral" (Asimov 412); but Asimov was writing
close to 40 years ago. Now it's de rigueur. As for the conclusion of
Henry IV's advice, "Was there ever such a 'therefore'? 'My reign was
a futile one: therefore, go thou and do likewise. Use the trick I
planned to use.' Or to put it even more cynically: 'Make war, dear
boy, and God grant your reign may be a peaceful one'" (Goddard,
I 197).
Accusing it, I put it on my head,
To try with it, as with an enemy,
That had before my face murdered my father....
(IV.v.164-167)