Important Quotations Explained
1. Yea,
there thou mak’st me sad and mak’st me sin
In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father to so blest a son—
A son who is the theme of honour’s tongue,
Amongst a grove the very straightest plant,
Who is sweet Fortune’s minion and her pride—
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him
See riot and dishonor stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O, that it could be proved
That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
In cradle clothes our children where they lay,
And called mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
(I.i.77–88)
These lines, which King Henry speaks
in the first scene of the play, set the stage for the conflict between
Prince Harry and Hotspur. Henry describes the fame and fortune of
young Hotspur (the son of “my Lord Northumberland”), calling him
“the theme of honour’s tongue”; in comparison, he says, Prince Harry
(“my young Harry”) has been sullied by “riot and dishonour.” He
then refers to an old English folk superstition—one of the many
references to folk culture and magic in the play—about fairies who
switched young children at birth. Henry wishes that
a fairy had switched Harry and Hotspur at birth, so that Hotspur
were really his son and Harry the son of Northumberland. This quote
is important for a number of reasons. It foreshadows the rivalry
of Harry and Hotspur, and it helps establish Henry’s careworn, worried
condition. Furthermore, it lets the audience know that Harry is
generally considered a disappointment, and, by presenting both Harry
and Hotspur as potential son figures for Henry, it inaugurates the
motif of doubles in the play.
2. I
know you all, and will awhile uphold
The unyoked humour of your idleness.
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wondered at
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But when they seldom come, they wished-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off
And pay the debt I never promisèd,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes;
And like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glitt’ring o’er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I’ll so offend to make offence a skill,
Redeeming time when men think least I will.
(I.ii.173–195)
Prince Harry addresses this monologue
to Falstaff and his friends, even though they have just left the
room, leaving Harry all alone. It is in this speech that Harry first
reveals his deception. His idling with the Boar’s Head company is
all an act, and when the need arises, he will cast off the act and
reveal his true noble nature. Harry tells the departed Falstaff
that he “will a while uphold / The unyoked humour of your idleness,”
but that, just as the sun permits itself to be covered by clouds
so that the people who miss its light will be all the happier when
it reappears, he too will eventually emerge from the cloud cover
of his lower-class friends. Harry says that people quickly grow
used to and tire of anything that is familiar: if every day were
a holiday, he says, then holidays would seem as tiresome as work,
because “nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.”
Therefore, Harry concludes that by earning the people’s
disapproval with his current behavior, he sets himself up to appear
all the more glorious when he finally decides to earn their approval,
since they will not take his high merit for granted. This quote
is extremely important to the play, because it establishes the dramatic
irony of Harry’s character, known to no one but the audience and
the prince himself. It also exposes the complexities and ambiguities
of Harry’s mind, showing an apparently virtuous young man who can
manipulate and lie to others to achieve his somewhat selfish, albeit
important, goals.
3. When
I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
. . .
Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dressed,
Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin, new-reaped
Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home.
He was perfumèd like a milliner,
. . .
With many holiday and lady terms
He questioned me; amongst the rest demanded
My prisoners in your majesty’s behalf.
I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold —
To be so pestered with a popinjay! —
Out of my grief and my impatience
Answered neglectingly, I know not what —
He should, or should not — for he made me mad
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman
. . .
So cowardly, and but for these vile guns
He would himself have been a soldier.
(I.iii.28–68)
Hotspur gives this speech to Henry to
explain why he did not release a group of prisoners when ordered
to do so by Henry’s messenger. (The conflict over this group of
prisoners is what precipitates the Percys’ break from Henry in Act
I.) Hotspur says that this messenger confronted him immediately
after a pitched battle and that the man was so simpering and effeminate
that it disgusted him. The speech is important because of the early
insight it offers into Hotspur’s character. He is a soldier through
and through and has no patience for weakness, fashion, cowardice,
manners, or the niceties of courtly behavior. It is highly ironic
that Hotspur’s speech about the messenger is so long and elaborate,
because Hotspur takes such pains to portray himself as a man of
action rather than words. Hotspur’s description of his encounter
with this man, on the other hand, is remarkably vivid and eloquent.
Shakespeare achieves much through Hotspur’s detailed account of
the “neat and trimly dressed” courtier, who talks in “holiday and
lady terms” and reminds Hotspur of a “popinjay” and a “waiting gentlewoman.” Hotspur’s
disgust reaches its height when the courtier says that he too would
have become a soldier “but for these vile guns.” Thus, Shakespeare
creates an amusing and believable character, the courtier, who never
appears onstage, and also firmly establishes Hotspur’s aggressive,
masculine nature.
4. Falstaff:
But to say I know more harm in him than in myself were to say more
than I know. That he is old, the more the pity, his white hairs
do witness it. But that he is, saving your reverence, a whoremaster,
that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the
wicked. If to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that
I know is damned. If to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh’s lean
kine are to be loved. No, my good lord, banish Peto, banish Bardolph,
banish Poins, but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true
Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant
being, as he is, old Jack Falstaff,
Banish not him thy Harry’s company,
Banish not him thy Harry’s company.
Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world.
Prince: I do; I will.
(II.v.425–439)
This exchange occurs during Harry and
Falstaff’s game of role--playing, as Falstaff pretends to be Harry
so that Harry can prepare for his upcoming meeting with his father.
Falstaff uses his time in the role of King Henry mainly to praise
himself, urging Harry to keep Falstaff near him—something that the
real king would never do, but certainly in keeping with Falstaff’s
character. Playing Harry, Falstaff lists his own faults, and then
excuses each of them—“If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the
wicked. If to be old and merry be a sin, then many and old host
that I know is damned”—and then, improbably, begins to list his
own supposed virtues, calling himself “sweet,” “kind,” “true,” and
“valiant.” Falstaff is not sweet, kind, true, or valiant, but his
constant claims to be these things are part of what makes him endearing.
In any case, this speech is important because it lets us in on some
of the complexities of Harry and Falstaff’s relationship. Falstaff
understands that he is undesirable company for Harry and worries
that Harry will one day break his ties with him. So, in the role
of King Henry, Falstaff urges Harry not to do so. Harry’s icy reply,
“I do; I will,” foreshadows the moment of the actual break in the
next play,
2 Henry IV.
5. Well,
’tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick
me off when I come on? How then? Can honour set-to a leg? No. Or
an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no
skill in surgery, then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that
word “honour”? What is that “honour”? Air. A trim reckoning! Who
hath it? He that died o’ Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he
hear it? No. ’Tis insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it
not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it.
Therefore I’ll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends
my catechism.
(V.i.129–139)
Falstaff delivers this diatribe against
honor during the battle at Shrewsbury, just before the climax of
the play. Linking honor to violence, Falstaff, who is about to go
into battle, says that honor “pricks him on” to fight, meaning that
honor motivates him; he then asks what he will do if honor “pricks
him off,” that is, kills or injures him. He says that honor is useless
when one is wounded: it cannot set an arm or a leg, or take away
the “grief of a wound,” and it has “no skill in surgery.” In fact,
being merely a word, honor is nothing but thin air—that is, the
breath that one exhales in saying a word. He says that the only
people who have honor are the dead, and it does them no good, for
they cannot feel or hear it. Furthermore, honor doesn’t “live with
the living” because honor is gained through death. Falstaff therefore
concludes that honor is worthless, “a mere scutcheon,” and that
he wants nothing to do with it. In a play obsessed with the idea
of honor, this speech comes out of nowhere to call into question
the entire set of moral values on which most of the characters base
their lives. It is one of the remarkable aspects of Falstaff’s character
that he is able to live so far outside the normal mores and expectations
of his society; this speech epitomizes Falstaff’s independent streak.