We see his anguish in the next speech, in which Henry warns Hal of how important the judgment of others can be: “The hope and expectation of thy time/ Is ruin’d, and the soul of every man/ Prophetically do forethink thy fall” (III, ii, 36–38) For evidence, the King points to Richard, who was held in such low regard that he virtually invited insurrection. At least that is what Henry implies. He then attempts to justify the usurpation by claiming to have risked his own life for the public good and with public support:
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dress’d myself in such humility
That I did pluck allegiance from men’s hearts
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned King.
(III, ii, 50–54)
The words “stole,” “dress’d,” and “pluck” all suggest some manner of fraud (Garber 320), and in the tirade that follows, Henry expresses the distress he felt over both Richard’s disastrous actions and Henry’s own desire to rid England of such a pernicious influence:
In recalling his own ascent to power, Henry IV takes pride in his political skills, his ability to read and master a situation, controlling others by calculated dissimulation. Following Machiavelli’s advice, he creates the appearances most favorable to his advancement, making the most of any opportunity offered. (Chernaik 122)
Eventually, though, the speech reverts to Hal’s behavior:
And in that very line, Harry, standest thou,
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege
With vile participation. Not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight,
Save mine, which hath desir’d to see thee more,
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.
(III, ii, 86–91)
The advice is fundamentally political, warning Hal that, to borrow from current lexicon, image is almost everything. The lesson is one Hal already knows, as he demonstrated in his soliloquy at the end of I, ii, but he still accepts the instruction: “I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord,/ Be more myself” (III, ii, 92–93). His brusqueness tells us that he is concerned with nothing but the crisis, and therefore feels no need for flowery apologies. The line also recalls Henry’s earlier statement to his counselors: “I will henceforth rather be myself . . . ” (I, iii, 5). Despite Hal’s aberrant behavior, father and son think alike.
Henry adds one more detail. Speaking of Hotspur, he notes: “Now, by my sceptre, and my soul to boot,/ He hath more worthy interest to the state/ Than thou the shadow of succession” (III, ii, 97–99). The King implies that Hotspur’s fervor may outweigh, at least momentarily, Hal’s formal right to the crown. Accordingly, the lines justify Henry’s own actions against Richard, who ruled because of lineage, but who did not act to warrant such power. The King thereby raises a profound question: who deserves to sit on the throne? The one who inherits that honor? Or the one who earns it?
Henry then explains the military challenges ahead, focusing on Hotspur:
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my nearest and dearest enemy?
Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear,
Base inclination, and the start of spleen,
To fight against me under Percy’s pay,
To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns,
To show how much thou art degenerate.
(III, ii, 122–128)
Henry has yet to hear from his son a statement of fealty. Now, by impugning Hal’s integrity, the King hopes to spark the fury that will assure him of Hal’s loyalty and courage. Almost at once the tactic succeeds, as Hal responds:
Do not think so, you shall not find it so,
And God forgive them that so much have sway’d
Your Majesty’s good thoughts away from me!
I will redeem all this on Percy’s head,
And in the closing of some glorious day
Be bold to tell you that I am your son.
(III, ii, 129–134)
For the first time, his emotions flare. Here is one slander he cannot abide, and almost instantly he becomes determined to prove his father and everyone else wrong. The surest way to do so is through violence.
At the risk of diminishing both the moment and the play, I must mention that this exchange suggests one from another study of power, albeit more contemporary and in a different medium. The work is The Godfather, and the scene takes place when Michael Corleone returns home from the hospital. He has just re-imposed protection around his wounded father, and for such decisive action has been beaten by a vengeful police captain. Now, sitting in his father’s study, he and his allies must choose a course of action. The others are leery of renewed violence, but Michael does not hesitate, and as the camera slowly draws near him, he sits motionless and speaks deliberately, in language that obviously lacks Shakespeare’s elevation, but which nonetheless communicates a determination similar to Hal’s:
Let’s set the meeting. Get our informants to find out
where it’s gonna be held. Now we insist it’s a public
place—a bar, a restaurant—some place where there’s
people so I feel safe. So I can’t have a weapon on me
then. But if Clemenza can figure a way to have a
weapon planted there for me. Then I’ll kill ‘em both. (Jones 112)
Even though Michael is a war hero, until this moment his relations and their confederates have assumed him to be unsuited for “the family business.” Now, as the camera lingers on his unflinching expression, we realize what the rest of the world learns later: that he has the capacity to kill. In III, ii of Henry IV, Part 1, Hal confirms that he has the same attribute.
He also knows enough not to make the revelation obvious:
This in the name of God I promise here,
The which if he be pleas’d I shall perform,
I do beseech your Majesty may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance.
(III, ii, 153–156)
Here is the first of numerous instances when Hal defers authority to God. He instinctively recognizes that audiences, whether composed of one individual or many, prefer a leader who exudes humility, so he avoids taking credit for any triumphs, even potential ones.
Also notable is one element absent from this speech: words of affection or loyalty to his father. After the last line quoted above, Hal clarifies that he has responsibilities, and that he will fulfill them for God, country, and his own reputation, as well as in service to the King. But Hal treats Henry almost as a separate being from Hal’s father. The distance between them persists, while Hal’s emotions remain in check. He has a job, he explains, and he intends to do it with all necessary force. He is as determined to prove that his father’s earlier harangue was misplaced as he is to affirm his own royal prerogatives.
Back at the tavern, we are reminded of the world the Prince must escape, as Bardolph taunts Falstaff: “Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass, out of all reasonable compass, Sir John” (III, iii, 21–23). Despite the accuracy of Bardolph’s judgment, as well as the sharpness of