connected continuous actions, events really separated by years. Its nobler characters have much less of chivalric and romantic splendour, and its action less of stage interest and effect, and its poetry far less of kindling and exciting fervour. On this account it has long disappeared as a whole from the stage; but portions of it are familiar even to those whose knowledge of Shakespeare is acquired only from the stage, having been interwoven by Cibber, or some other manufacturer of the “acted drama,” into the action of RICHARD III. Other portions, like the King's invocation to sleep; the Archbishop's meditation on the instability of popular favour; Lady Percy's lament for Hotspur; and the last scene between the Prince and his father, have sunk deep into thousands of hearts, and live in the general memory. Nor is the entire graver dialogue unworthy of these gems with which it is studded ; for it is throughout rich in thought, noble and impressive in style, and the characters it presents are drawn, if not with the same bold freedom and pointed invention as in the first part, yet with undiminished truth and discrimination.

But on the comic side of the play there is no flagging either of spirit or invention. On the contrary, the humour, if perhaps less lively and sparkling, is still more rich and copious. It overflows on all sides. The return of a character of comic invention in a second part is a hard test of originality and fertility, which even Don Quixote and Gil Blas did not stand without some loss of the charm of our first acquaintance with them. Falstaff's humour, as well that which he exhibits in his character, as that which he utters, is more copious, more luxuriously mirthful, and— if the phrase may be allowed-more unctuous than ever. Those of his companions, whose acquaintance we made in the first part, lose nothing of their droll effect; and our new acquaintances, Shallow, Slender, etc., are still more amusing. The scenes in which these last figure, give us a delightful peep into the habits of the rural gentry of old England, and, as mere history, are worth volumes of antiquarian research.

Both parts of this drama, as well as its prelude, RICHARD II., and its sequel, HENRY V., present a continuous historical chain of revolutions, wars, conspiracies, and rebellions. Every incident is connected with some great political movement. Nothing can be more picturesque, more life-like, than the manner in which these are put into action, or more like the very reality of such things, than the ruminations, motives, conferences, counsels, and contests of the princes and chiefs, and their followers. Nor does the Poet allow our minds to rest on the mere external shows of the hurried and crowded scene. He is earnest and abundant in wise moral teaching. The instability of all mortal greatness and the emptiness of human pomp and power-the dread responsibility of that power-the base ingratitude of the great, and the fickleness of the masses- -the independence of conscious rectitude,—all these, and other topics, are enforced in verses that have made them the lessons of youthful instruction and household morality, wherever the language is spoken. Yet it is very observable that, though the facts and scenes from which these ethical teachings arise, are all in some sort political, or connected with public transactions, the speculation or admonition is always of a personal nature, the philosophy ethical, not political, without any thing of those larger views of society as an organized whole, or of the conflicts of political principles, which may be found in the Roman dramas, and elsewhere; as, for example, in the eloquent didactic dialogue of the strangely blended TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

This difference must be ascribed, I think, chiefly to the different periods at which these plays were severally produced-a circumstance which critics often overlook in their speculations upon Shakespeare's opinions, as well as in those upon his taste, style, and knowledge. It has been shown, in the Introductory Remarks, in this edition, on the plays last referred to, that they were written some time after the accession of James I., when the great parliamentary and national struggle against the crown first commenced,-when the royal authority and the rights of the people, in the republican sense of the term, began to be brought into collision,-when the very principles of government were openly canvassed; when all those elements of the great approaching conflict of radically differing political opinions were fermenting in the public mind, and already entering into the popular elections. Although parties had not yet become finally arrayed in the distinct manner they became in the next reign, this state of things could not but familiarize the mind of a thinking man, however aloof from active participation in party, to general political reflection, and to make literary and poetical references to such topics, or exhibitions of such scenes, more acceptable to the popular taste. Hence we find in those later dramas, that the author looks more distinctly upon man as the member of a state, upon the various forms of civil polity, and upon the conflicts of party and revolutions of government, as influenced by political opinion. The English historical dramas, except the last one of the series, HENRY VIII., were all written under the stern and steady rule of Elizabeth, and the author, still young, had grown up in a state of society, where the only question of principle which had, during the memory of that generation or their fathers, divided the nation, was that of religious difference; their only other notion of political party being that of the conflicts of rival houses, or of personal ambition. It is probably fortunate, not less for the spirited accuracy of historic delineations in these dramas, than for their dramatic and poetic effect, that this was the case.

Even when the insurrections, revolutions, and contests, under the Plantagenets, really involved or affected the principles of freedom, and the substantial permanent rights and happiness of the subject, they did not (unless so far as the acquisition of Magna Charta, and the subsequent appeals to it, may be exceptions) take that form; but were struggles for immediate and practical objects, the redress of pressing grievances, the defence of chartered rights, or the overthrow of an oppressor. The divisions and dissensions which, like the Wars of the Roses, deluged England with blood, had nothing in view beyond a change of rulers or of dynasty, neither attaining nor looking to, in the result, any object of a truly public nature, and leaving nothing to the faithful chronicler to record but (as old Hall says) "what misery, what murder, and what execrable plagues this famous region hath suffered."

Into all these conflicts, calling forth high energies and exhibiting stirring scenes and a crowd of majestic personages, the young dramatist entered with the very spirit and sympathies of the times, naturally assimilating his mind to that of the men of those days, and thus painting them and their deeds as they showed to their own generation, not as they now appear to the philosophical student of history. Thus he vehemently asserts, in the person of Richard II. and his adherents, the indefeasible, hereditary right of kings; but shortly after makes the successful usurper, Bolingbroke, equally ready to rebuke rebellion and "hurly-burly innovation," without troubling himself to discuss the truth of the doctrine, or the propriety of its application, in the mouth of either. His business was with the passions and actions of men, not with the principles of government; and the Wars of the Roses were more graphically and vividly described in the absence of any wish or design, however indirect or remote, to inculcate political opinion or political philosophy, of any sort or colour.

At a later period, the Poet generalized more, depicting, in CORIOLANUS and JULIUS CESAR, the collisions of contending principles, or lecturing, with Ulysses, on "the unity and married calm of states."

SOURCE OF THE PLOT IN AN OLDER PLAY.

Shakespeare's historical and traditional materials, for the two parts of this drama, have been already indicated in the Introductory Remarks prefixed to the first part. But it has of late years been ascertained that he owed something (and some critics supposed a good deal) to an older piece on the same subject. A more careful examination of that play has reduced the amount of those obligations to very little indeed, except the suggestion of the subject.

The immediate cause of Shakespeare's selecting the subject of Harry of Monmouth's life, for three plays, may be ascribed to the popularity of an old play which he found on the stage, entitled "The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth." This seems to have been first printed in 1594; but it is satisfactorily proved to have been upon the stage when Shakespeare first became connected with it. Mr. Collier observes:

"Richard Tarlton, who died in 1588, was an actor in that piece, but how long before 1588 it had been produced. we have no means of ascertaining. It is, in fact, in prose, although many portions of it are printed to look like verse, because, at the date when it first came from the press, blank-verse had become popular on the stage, and the bookseller probably was desirous of giving the old play a modern appearance. Our most ancient public dramas were composed in rhyme: to rhyme seems to have succeeded prose; and prose, about the date when Shakespeare is believed to have originally come to London, was displaced by blank-verse, intermixed with couplets and stanzas. The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth' seems to belong to the middle period; and as Stephen Gosson, in his 'School of Abuse,' 1579, leads us to suppose that at that time prose was not very usual in theatrical performances, it may be conjectured that 'The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth' was not written until after 1580. "That a play upon the events of the reign of Henry the Fifth was upon the stage in 1592, we have the indisputable evidence of Thomas Nash, in his notorious work, Pierce Penniless, his Supplication,' which went through three editions in the same year: we quote from the first, where he says, 'What a glorious thing it is to have Henry the Fifth represented on the Stage, leading the French King prisoner, and forcing him and the Dolphin to swear fealtie.' We know also that a drama, called 'Harry the V.,' was performed by Henslowe's Company on the 28th November, 1595, and it appears likely that it was a revival of The Famous Victories,' with some important addi tions, which gave it the attraction of a new play; for the receipts (as we find by Henslowe's Diary) were of such an amount as was generally only produced by a first representation. Out of this circumstance may have arisen the publication of the early undated edition in the possession of the Duke of Devonshire. The reproduction of The Famous Victories' by a rival company, and the appearance of it from the press, possibly led Shakespeare to consider in what way, and with what improvements, he could avail himself of some of the same incidents for the theatre to which he belonged.

"It is to be observed, that the incidents which are summarily dismissed in one old play, are extended by our great dramatist over three-the two parts of HENRY IV. and HENRY V. It is impossible to institute any parallel between The Famous Victories' and Shakespeare's dramas; for, besides that the former has reached us evidently in an imperfect shape, the immeasurable superiority of the latter is such, as to render any attempt to trace resemblance rather a matter of contrast than comparison. Who might be the writer of The Famous Victories, it would be idle to speculate; but it is decidedly inferior to most of the extant works of Marlowe, Greene, Peele, Kyd, Lodge, or any other of the more celebrated predecessors of Shakespeare."

But beyond the mere suggestion of a subject so admirably adapted alike for heroic tragedy, and for every variety of comic pleasantry, Shakespeare owes nothing to the old play, either poetically or dramatically. He retained from it the names thus made familiar to his audience, and among others, certainly at first, Oldcastle for his Falstaff; but that personage has there very little to say, and is merely one of the coarse companions of the Prince, without being either a wit, or even an overgrown bon-vivant. We extract from Knight's notice of the old play enough to show its taste and spirit:

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"It is satisfactory that this extraordinary performance has been preserved. None of the old dramas exhibit, in a more striking light, the marvellous reformation which Shakespeare produced in the dramatic amusements of the age of Elizabeth. We have seen how immeasurably superior the KING JOHN of our Poet is to the King John' of 1591, upon which it was founded. But even that play, feeble and coarse as it is, is of a higher character, as a work of art, than 'The Famous Victories of Henry V.,' of which the comic parts are low buffoonery, without the slightest wit, and the tragic monotonous stupidity, without a particle of poetry. And yet Shakespeare built upon this thing, and for a very satisfactory reason-the people were familiar with it. In the instance of The Famous Victories,' some improvements might have been made upon the original when it was acted, in 1595; for it seems almost impossible that an audience, who were then familiar with Shakespeare, could have tolerated such a mass of ribaldry and dulness. We can, however, only judge of Shakespeare's obligations to that play from the copy which has come down to us.

"We are introduced to the 'young Prince' in the opening scene. His companions are 'Ned,' 'Tom,' and 'Sir John Oldcastle,' who bears the familiar name of Jockey.' They have been committing a robbery upon the King's receivers; and Jockey informs the Prince that his (the Prince's) man hath robbed a poor carrier. The plunder of the receivers amounts to a thousand pounds; and the Prince worthily says, As I am a true gentleman, I will have the half of this spent to-night.' He shows his gentility by calling the receivers villains and rascals. The royal amusements in the old tavern, in Eastcheap, are thus described by a boy of the tavern: This night, about two hours ago, there came the young Prince, and three or four more of his companions, and called for wine good store, and then they sent for a noise of musicians, and were very merry for the space of an hour: then, whether their music liked them or not, or whether they had drunk too much wine or no, I cannot tell, but our pots flew against the walls, and then they drew their swords, and went into the streets and fought, and some took one part, and some took another.' The Prince is sent to the counter' by the Lord Mayor. Gadshill,' the Prince's man. who robbed the carrier, is taken before the Lord Chief Justice; and the young Prince, who seems to have got out of the counter as suddenly as he got in, rescues the thief, after the following fashion:

Henry. Why then belike you mean to hang my man.

Judge. I am sorry that it falls out so.

Henry. Why, my lord, I pray ye who am I?

Judge. An please your Grace, you are my Lord the young Prince, our King that shall be after the decease of our Sovereign Lord King Henry the Fourth, whom God grant long to reign.

Henry. You say true, my Lord: And you will hang my man.

Judge. An like your Grace, I must needs do justice.

Henry. Tell me, my Lord, shall I have my man?

Judge. I cannot, my Lord.

Henry. But will you not let him go?

Judge. I am sorry that his case is too ill.

Henry. Tush, case me no casings, shall I have my man?

Judge. I cannot, nor I may not, my Lord.

Henry. Nay, and I shall not say, and then I am answered.
Judge. No.

Henry. No, then I will have him.

[He gives him a box on the ear.)

Ned. Gog's wounds, my Lord, shall I cut off his head?

"The scene ends with the Chief Justice committing Henry to the Fleet. In a subsequent scene with Oldcastle, Ned, and Tom, we have a passage which has evidently suggested a part of the dialogue betwixt the Prince and Falstaff:

"FAMOUS VICTORIES."

Henry. Here's such ado now-a-days, here's prisoning, here's hanging, whipping, and the devil and all: but I tell you, sirs, when I am king, we will have no such thing, but, my lads, if the old king my father were dead, we would be all kings.

Oldcastle. He is a good old man. God take him to his mercy the sooner.

Henry. But Ned, so soon as I am king, the first thing I will do, shall be to put my Lord Chief Justice out of office, and thou shalt be my Lord Chief Justice of England.

Ned. Shall I be Lord Chief Justice? By Gog's wounds, I'll be the bravest Lord Chief Justice that ever was in England.

"The ruffian prince of the old play goes on in the same low strain:-That fellow that will stand by the wayside courageously, with his sword and buckler, and take a purse,-that fellow, give him commendations.' 'But whither are ye going now?' quoth Ned. To the court,' answers the true gentleman of a prince; for I hear say my father lies very sick. .: The breath shall be no sooner out of his mouth but I will clap the crown on my head.' To the court he goes, and there the bully becomes a hypocrite. Ah, Harry, now thrice unhappy Harry. But what shall I do? I will go take me to some solitary place, and there lament my sinful life, and when I have done, I will lay me down and die.' The great scene in the second part of HENRY IV.

I never thought to hear you speak again—

is founded, probably, upon a passage in Hollingshed: but there is a similar scene in 'The Famous Victories.' It is the highest attempt in the whole play."

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