sential meaning; and he did this for a particular purpose.

The wild Prince Hal, whom the audience at the Globe Theater had learned to associate with such company as Falstaff and Doll Tearsheet and Mrs. Quickly and all that red-lattice crew, now comes forward in a new play, "Henry V." Prince Hal is king. Note how the play

opens:

"The king is full of grace and fair regard," says the Archbishop of Canterbury talking privately to the Bishop of Ely.

"And a true lover of the holy church," adds Ely.

"The courses of his youth promised it not," continues Canterbury.

"We are blessed in the change," reflects Ely. "Hear him but reason in divinity, and, all admiring, with an inward wish, you would desire the king were made a prelate; hear him debate of commonwealth affairs," etc.

There had been little hope that Prince Hal would ever amount to much. The Globe audience who had known all along that Hal was only having his fling and did not take low life too seriously must have enjoyed this vindication of their good opinions of him. There is deep humor in the puzzlement of the reverend Archbishop that such perfect kingly deportment should manifest itself in him.

Scene two keeps right on with this theme of grace in the king. We now see it not merely

stated but in practical operation. And we perceive that the dignitaries of the church have good reason for their high opinions of him. He consults them in matters of importance. He recognizes them in their particular branch of government. He gives them work to do.

Being about to go to war with France, he makes great question of his moral right in the point at issue; and it is for the clergy to decide this question regarding the Salic law. The Archbishop has been given this matter to "justly and religiously unfold," and now in Scene two he comes in with his report in hand. The verdict of the Archbishop is that the king has the law on his side. But Henry is not satisfied. "May I with right and conscience make this claim?"

"For in the book of Numbers is it writ," answers the churchman, proceeding to show that religion will not be violated. The rest of his noblemen now lend him their voices in favor of the step. It is in this connection, with Westmoreland's speech, that we have the peculiar passage. Henry has put the whole stress on a question of moral right; hence it is easy to see why Shakespeare had the Earl begin, "They know your grace hath cause and means and might" - which is to say, he is justified before heaven as a king of grace. "They know" (Canterbury and Ely) because they have looked into the law and consulted the Bible.

No question had been made as to the physical

power to win the victory over France. It was the king's conscience that was being satisfied. But now Westmoreland, representing the temporal power, adds, "So hath your highness.' The effect of this separate address of Henry by his temporal title is to set off the other title in its essential meaning and emphasize it. It is this particular view of the much-changed Prince Hal that Shakespeare is setting forth he has become a king in all its branches. And in no way could it be so effectively emphasized. In short, these words are in keeping with the whole organism of the play, with regard to character, up to this point.

Possibly a few stanzas of a poem by Stephen Hawes (1506) which I recently came across, would be of interest in this connection:

To the high and mighty Prince, Henry the Seventh, by the grace of God king of England, and of France, Lord of Ireland, etc. Right mighty prince, and redoubted sovereign, Sailing forth well in the ship of grace

Over the waves of life uncertain,

Right toward heaven to have dwelling place;
Grace doth you guide in every doubtful case;
Your governance doth evermore eschew
The sin of sloth, enemy to virtue.

Grace stirreth well; the grace of God is great
Which you have brought to your royal see,
And in your right it hath you surely set
Above us all to have the sovereignty;
Whose worth, power and regal dignity
All our rancor and our debate 'gan cease

And hath us brought both wealth and rest and peace.

Your noble grace and excellent highness

For to accept I beseech right humbly
This little book, etc.

This shows plainly enough what a king's "grace" meant to the mind of an Englishman four hundred years ago. Note "your noble grace and excellent highness," the then form of address.

LAFEU

Clown. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you I can serve as great a prince as you are.

Lafeu. Who's that? A Frenchman?

Clown. Faith, sir, 'a has an English name; but his fisnomy is more hotter in France than there.

Lafeu. What prince is that?

Clown. The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of darkness; alias, the devil.

Lafeu. Hold thee, there's my purse; I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of; serve him still.

Clown. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire.

(All's Well, iv, 5, 41)

NOTES on this pass of wit seem to have gone astray because the commentators have missed. the point of the clown's joke. The clown's whole allusion is to the fact that in French Lafeu (la feu) means the fire. From this he would infer that Lafeu, as shown by his family name, is a relative of the devil. It was simply because this idea occurred to him that Shakespeare wrote the passage at all. He started out with that allusion in mind, played around it for the fun of mystifying Lafeu, and then drove it home to the denser heads among the audience by tacit reference to a fire, twice repeated.

Notes in all editions of Shakespeare have centered around the words "an English name,' and "his fisnomy is more hotter," from which