Some Much Needed Comic Relief

            While I ended up enjoying (and more importantly, understanding) Richard II by the end of Friday’s discussion, I have to say it wasn’t my favorite. I always have a hard time with history plays, as history (i.e.: names, dates, familial ties, etc.) is not my strong suit or my cup of tea. So when I saw that we were also reading 1 Henry IV, the sequel, I shuddered a little. But after reading Act 1.2, I am so happy to finally see comic relief, thanks to Prince Harry and Falstaff! Their friendship seems to be based on friendly mocking, silly banter, and sarcasm, which I found refreshing after the seriousness of Richard II.

            In the very start of the scene, Harry is already using his language to cleverly poking fun at Falstaff for being overweight by using expressions like “fat-witted” (2; drunk, or dumb) and “Come roundly, roundly” (19; get to the point). Falstaff fires back with, “[M]ajesty I should say, for grace though wilt have none […] not so much as will serve to be prologue to egg and butter” (14-18). In other words, he is implying that the prince doesn’t even have enough grace to bless a small snack with.

            I was most surprised by the amount of sexual innuendo in the Prince’s dialogue, particularly lines 27-34. While I noted the obvious “purse”/genitalia reference, as well as “snatched” and “lay by”, the Norton brought to my attention the other sexual references: “spent with,” “lie back” (duh!), and “low and high” referring to an erection. Whoa dude!

            My favorite moment – and probably the most nonsensical – of this conversation is this exchange:

FALSTAFF: By the Lord, thou sayest true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?
PRINCE HARRY: As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?
FALSTAFF: How now, how now, mad wag? What, in thy quips and thy quiddities? What a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?
PRINCE HARRY: Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?

            Here, Prince Harry is mocking Falstaff’s “stupid” question by retorting with an equally ridiculous question, about the durability of the sheriff’s uniform. I also love Prince Harry’s use of the expression “what the pox” to foil Falstaff’s “what a plague.” This is some classic male battle of the wits.

            As I was reading this scene, I had to remind myself that Harry/Hal is a prince. And here he is, hanging out with the likes of thieves and robbers, plotting practical jokes with a low-life of sorts. Huh? But instead of being horrified or shocked, I actually found it humbling to see a prince actually enjoying himself, being funny.

            After we enjoy several pages of sexual puns and sarcasm a la Shakespeare, the humor dies down as we learn Prince Harry’s true motives: “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 mist/Of vapors that did seem to strangle him” (175-181). Basically, Prince Harry reveals in the monologue that he is only hanging out with this sordid bunch so that when he reveals his true character, everyone will be that much more impressed with him; he will appear more desirable to be king.

            I know that some may interpret Prince Harry as using Falstaff to his advantage, and – who knows? – maybe by the end as this all unfolds that will prove true. But for now I actually sympathize with him; he is acting as many sons/daughters act to gain their parents’ approval, to feel the need to prove themselves. Sure, this may be a dirty way to do it, seeing how much Falstaff respects him. But I don’t know, I don’t see it as so horrendous.

Shakespeare’s Star-Crossed Lovers: The tragic, the comedic, and the outright dysfunctional

I couldn’t help but think of Romeo and Juliet while reading and laughing through the “rude mechanics’” painfully funny performance in Act V of A Midsummer Night's Dream. So, I decided to do some googling to see what I could find on the correspondence between Shakespeare’s two pairs of star-crossed lovers.

The first fact I found out is that the story of Pyramus and Thisbe exists outside of the silly play in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’m guessing that this is a known fact to most people, but the world of Roman mythology is totally foreign to me. The tale was originally told by Ovid centuries before Shakespeare’s existence, which confirms another example of UN-originality in Shakespeare’s work. He borrowed a great deal of the ancient myth’s plot line for Romeo and Juliet, including the basic story foundation of two young lovers whose love is forbidden by their parents, who both die tragically by suicide due to an unfortunate misunderstanding. According to several Shakespeare websites, the playwright borrowed from the myth intentionally and explicitly referenced it in Romeo and Juliet itself. However, none of these sites give textual evidence (gotta have it!) as to where in the play the myth was oh-so-explicitly referenced, so I’m unable to prove whether or not for sure his story-borrowing was purposeful.
I was also curious to find out when AMND and Romeo and Juliet were respectively written. It appears that R&J was written first, but the dates are so close together and so long ago that it’s hard to say for sure. If Romeo and Juliet was written first, then the funny little Pyramus and Thisbe play in AMND seems to be an example of Shakespeare making fun of his own work. Bottom’s last line as Pyramus in the mechanic’s play certainly seems like a spoof of Juliet stabbing herself:

“Come, tears, confound;
Out, sword, and wound
The pap of Pyramus;
Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop:

(Stabs himself)

Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.”

Bottom’s character’s death mocks Juliet’s dramatic stabbing:

"Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!
(Snatching ROMEO's dagger)
This is thy sheath;
(Stabs herself)
there rust, and let me die."

So is this an example of Shakespeare’s self-deprecating humor? Is he poking fun at his own tragic story of star-crossed lovers? The play-within-a-play seems to be an obvious example, as it has a storyline that runs parallel to that of Romeo and Juliet. However, isn’t AMND itself making fun of the idea of star-crossed lovers? Perhaps not in the traditional sense. There are four rather than two lovers involved, and one of the four is a female who is ruthlessly pursuing a male who doesn’t return her affections. Hermia and Lysander are the two in the forbidden relationship, yet for a good portion of the play, Lysander detests Hermia due to the meddling of some fairies. Everything gets confused by the fairies’ mischief and suddenly the unwanted female is the object of affection for both men involved. The play’s dysfunctional love web, and especially its hilarious inner Pyramus and Thisbe play, serve as an enjoyable comic response to the tragedy of R&J. My original ideas of Shakespeare being a super-serious literary genius are changing: I still think he’s a genius, but he also has a genius sense of humor.