Of Fighters and Drinkers

I've been watching Henry IV, Part I piecemeal over the past couple weeks, the BBC Television Shakespeare version. It just kind of happened, I never have time to watch the whole thing but I've been itching to watch it again so I watch a little bit here and there. It occurred to me there's a sequence of scenes in which one guy does a verbal take down of another guy. There's Hal and Falstaff, then Hotspur and Glendower, then the King and Hal.

Although Anthony Quayle plays Falstaff as just starting to get some inkling of Hal's ultimate betrayal of him, and he acts indignant at first, the beauty of Falstaff is that eventually he takes it all in good humour. What really matters to him is coin in his pocket and sack in his belly. Hotspur unwisely makes his rebel ally, Glendower, the butt of a series of very funny but vicious jabs. The King is deeply disturbed by his son's loose living. The rashness of youth and the bitterness of political responsibilities hang over the latter two. It's easy to see why Falstaff was such a popular character, he longs for the human comforts we all do. Few of us appreciate the gravity of the King's preoccupations and only a few more people will have experienced Hotspur's profound restlessness.

I was watching the Hotspur and Glendower scene last night. One sympathises with Hotspur and his disdain for pomposity but it's astonishing how little thought he gives to the precariousness of his situation and his need for allies.

MORTIMER.
Peace, cousin Percy, you will make him mad.

GLENDOWER.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

HOTSPUR.
Why, so can I, or so can any man,
But will they come when you do call for them?

GLENDOWER.
Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command the devil.

HOTSPUR.
And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil
By telling truth; tell truth, and shame the devil.
If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,
And I’ll be sworn I have power to shame him hence.
O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil!

MORTIMER.
Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat.

GLENDOWER.
Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head
Against my power; thrice from the banks of Wye
And sandy-bottom’d Severn have I sent him
Bootless home and weather-beaten back.

HOTSPUR.
Home without boots, and in foul weather too!
How ’scapes he agues, in the devil’s name!