King Henry the Fifth. William Shakespeare
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episode.
The music, under the direction of Mr. Isaacson, has been, in part, selected from such ancient airs as remain to us of, or anterior to, the date of Henry the Fifth, and, in part, composed to accord with the same period. The “Song on the Victory of Agincourt,” published at the end of Sir Harris Nicholas’s interesting narrative, and introduced in the admirable work entitled “Popular Music of the Olden Time,” by W. Chappell, F.S.A., is sung by the boy choristers in the Episode. The “Chanson Roland,” to be found in the above-named work, is also given by the entire chorus in the same scene. The Hymn of Thanksgiving, at the end of the fourth act, is supposed to be as old as A.D. 1310. To give effect to the music, fifty singers have been engaged.
As the term of my management is now drawing to a close, I may, perhaps, be permitted, in a few words, to express my thanks for the support and encouragement I have received. While endeavouring, to the best of my ability and judgment, to uphold the interests of the drama in its most exalted form, I may conscientiously assert, that I have been animated by no selfish or commercial spirit. An enthusiast in the art to which my life has been devoted, I have always entertained a deeply-rooted conviction that the plan I have pursued for many seasons, might, in due time, under fostering care, render the Stage productive of much benefit to society at large. Impressed with a belief that the genius of Shakespeare soars above all rivalry, that he is the most marvellous writer the world has ever known, and that his works contain stores of wisdom, intellectual and moral, I cannot but hope that one who has toiled for so many years, in admiring sincerity, to spread abroad amongst the multitude these invaluable gems, may, at least, be considered as an honest labourer, adding his mite to the great cause of civilisation and educational progress.
After nine years of unremitting exertion as actor and director, the constant strain of mind and body warns me to retreat from a combined duty which I find beyond my strength, and in the exercise of which, neither zeal, nor devotion, nor consequent success, can continue to beguile me into a belief that the end will compensate for the many attendant troubles and anxieties. It would have been impossible, on my part, to gratify my enthusiastic wishes, in the illustration of Shakespeare, had not my previous career as an actor placed me in a position of comparative independence with regard to speculative disappointment. Wonderful as have been the yearly receipts, yet the vast sums expended—sums, I have every reason to believe, not to be paralleled in any theatre of the same capability throughout the world—make it advisable that I should now retire from the self-imposed responsibility of management, involving such a perilous outlay; and the more especially, as a building so restricted in size as the Princess’s, renders any adequate return utterly hopeless.
My earnest aim has been to promote the well-being of my Profession; and if, in any degree, I have attained so desirable an object, I trust I may not be deemed presumptuous in cherishing the belief, that my arduous struggle has won for me the honourable reward of—Public Approval.
CHARLES KEAN.
KING HENRY THE FIFTH.
Enter Chorus.
O for a muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,1
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars;2 and, at his heels,
Leash’d in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire,
Crouch for employment.(A) But pardon, gentles all,
The flat unraised spirit that hath dar’d
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object: Can this cockpit hold3
The vasty fields of France? or may we cram
Upon this little stage4 the very casques5
That did affright the air at Agincourt?
O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place, a million;
And let us, cyphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces6 work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confined two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder:7
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts;
Into a thousand parts divide one man,8
And make imaginary puissance;9
For ’tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there; jumping o’er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: For the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.
Exit.
ACT I.
Scene I.—THE PAINTED CHAMBER IN THE ROYAL PALACE AT WESTMINSTER.
[Frequent reference is made in the Chronicles to the Painted Chamber, as the room wherein Henry V. held his councils.]
Trumpets sound.
King Henry(B) discovered on his throne (centre)*, Bedford,(C) Gloster,(D) Exeter,(E) Warwick, Westmoreland, and others in attendance.
K. Hen. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury?
Exe. (L.) Not here in presence.
K. Hen. Send for him, good uncle.
Exeter beckons to a Herald, who goes off, L.H.
West. (L.) Shall we call in the ambassador, my liege?
K. Hen. Not yet, my cousin: we would be resolv’d,
Before we hear him, of some things of weight,
That task1 our thoughts, concerning us and France.
Re-enter Herald with the Archbishop of Canterbury,(F)2 and Bishop of Ely,3 L.H. The Bishops cross to R.C.
Cant. (R.C.) Heaven and its angels guard your sacred throne,
And make you long become it!
K. Hen.
Sure, we thank you.
My learned lord, we pray you to proceed,
And justly