The first of these four is Richard II, which tells of a weak king, albeit a marvelously poetic one, who is overthrown by his sturdy, courageous, treacherous, and cunning cousin, the future Henry IV. Henry V tells of the final victory over all odds of the son of Henry IV, who justifies and vindicates his father’s misdeed at Agincourt, one of the most important battles in western European history. Between fall the two parts of Henry IV.
Shakespeare had been writing, or rewriting (to accord with official court prejudices about the past) the history of England for several years before he undertook the story of Henry IV. By this time he was impatient with history alone and desired more action, fun, and frolic than reality could provide. At the same time he did have a good story to telclass="underline" of how the son of Henry IV, Prince Hal, had been a daredevil and a scapegrace while his father was alive, but settled down to be a good and beloved monarch when he inherited the throne. It would be an even better story, Shakespeare felt, if he could show Prince Hal in the company of some amusing villains. It’s not certain whether Sir John Falstaff is based on the life of a real person, known to the prince; but Shakespeare was perfectly capable of inventing what he needed.
There was another good story to tell, of the rivalry between Hotspur, a legitimate claimant of the throne and a man known far and wide for his courage, and Prince Hal, about whom little that was good was known by anybody. Nevertheless, Prince Hal must be the hero of the tale because he became king and was an ancestor of Elizabeth, the reigning monarch. Shakespeare had to modify history in some respects to make it all come out, but few readers have ever complained of these liberties. Henry IV has its own reality, of a distinctly higher sort.
Hotspur is a magnificent character; in many respects he anticipates Hamlet, although he is more narrow-spirited than the young Dane. Henry IV, Part I reveals how Prince Hal rises to the occasion and defeats Hotspur in battle. But it also introduces the villainous Falstaff, the whoremongering, blaspheming, thieving friend of the prince who is nevertheless beloved of every reader and playgoer. How indeed can you not love Falstaff, for he is not only witty in himself but “also the cause,” as he says, “that there is wit in other men.” He is the greatest comic character in English literature, and perhaps that is enough to say about him. Read Henry IV to find out why.
Henry IV, Part II ends sadly, although it could not have ended any other way. Henry IV dies, and Prince Hal becomes King Henry V. Falstaff hears the news while on a recruiting mission in the country, far from London, and immediately drops everything to ride as fast as possible to the capital, where he expects that his friendship with the prince will be convertible into high and lucrative office. But King Henry V is a different man from Prince Hal; he is very aware of his responsibilities as a monarch and he knows he must put his past life well behind him. Falstaff is crushed to hear from the King’s lips that he is to be punished rather than rewarded and, although this may be right and proper, hardly any reader or viewer fails to be shocked and also hurt by this denouement. Justice is a very great thing in the world, but laughter is also great, and we hate to see the one fall victim to the other.
The purest comedy leaves no doubt about who is good and who is wicked. The good are more than good; they are angelic. And the wicked are devilish. But the wicked are incapable of doing real harm, nor are the good prudish and unlikable. The comic world is a fairyland in which all receive their just deserts, or a little bit more; punishments are bearable; and at worst a man is forced to marry a maiden he has betrayed. In the end love conquers all. If only life were really like that.
As You Like It discharges the obligation that its title implies. This is the comedy that audiences want and it shall not fail in any respect. Audiences have been delighted for four centuries.
The play is based on a perfect comic theme. A Duke has been deprived of his dukedom by his usurping brother; the former is good, the latter wicked. The good Duke has fled to the Forest of Arden, a better place than ever was, where he lives in peace and contentment, at one with nature and his fellow man. He has a daughter, Rosalind, and the usurper also has a daughter, Celia. The daughters are inseparable friends. Rosalind, in particular, is sharp of wit and tongue, although Celia is not far behind her. But suddenly Rosalind falls in love. Unfortunately, the object of her affections is distrusted by the usurper and banished; then Rosalind herself is also banished, for the usurper suspects she would always be faithful to her banished father. As indeed she would.
Celia will not let Rosalind depart by herself, but how will two girls travel alone through a dangerous world? Rosalind, who is tall for a girl, decides to dress as a boy and pretend Celia is her sister. They head for the Forest of Arden; but Orlando, the banished beloved of Rosalind, is also there. They meet, but Orlando does not know that Rosalind is his Rosalind; he thinks she is a young man. Rosalind, partly for her amusement and partly because she can’t bear to be apart from Orlando, forces him to pretend to woo her as if she were Rosalind. Orlando does so and of course it all comes out right in the end.
Rosalind is a charming young woman, at the beginning and end of the play; she is an even more charming “young man” all during the middle of it. Never did a woman mock love so thoroughly at the same time that she is practically dying of it. From time to time she gets herself into verbal difficulties, but she always squirms free. Her comic ruses appeal to everyone. It is one of the great parts for an actress to play.
There are other fine parts, especially that of the old fool, Jaques, he of “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players,” and the young one, Touchstone, a professional Fool who has accompanied Rosalind from the court into the forest and has there met the bewitching Audrey, whom he confesses he will marry, although he would have her if he could without benefit of clergy. Touchstone is amused at his own folly; this is the first time the Fool has ever been a fool. “I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear and to foreswear, according as marriage binds and blood breaks. A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favour’d thing, sir,” he adds, producing the gorgeous, simpering Audrey, spilling out of her bodice, “but mine own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that no man else will.” And so they are all married—even Celia has found a mate—and the usurping Duke, to make all perfect, is converted to a life of religious penitence and gives up his stolen title to its rightful owner.