Hotspur aspires to “pluck up drowned honor by the locks; / So he that doth redeem her thence might wear / without corrival, all her dignities” (Act 1 Scene 3). The play sets him up, however, a direct corrival in Hal. These two Harrys form the most obvious example, but by propagating the concept of corrivality through other pairings, we find other broken symmetries within the Henry IV, Part 1 and can illuminate the conflict of idealized chivalry and the realities of politics.

First, before I launch off into this, what is corrival? Corrival is one of those strange, duplicitous words, which has even simultaneously meant both one thing and it’s exact opposite. The first meaning of corrival, which survives according to the OED into our English, “A rival in a position of equality; one of several competitors having equal claims.” The second interpretation, now died out, was alive during the time of Henry IV, Part 1, and goes ahead and negates the former: “Without the sense of actual competition: A compeer, partner; one having equal claims, or admitted to equal rights.”

Two equals, with equal claim, simultaneously in competition and partnership. In other words, the vision of chivalry and noble combat that Hotspur projects on Edmund Mortimer and Glendower’s battle by the Seine, taking a breather three times together and drinking as compatriots of equal rank and honor before lifting arms again (Act 1 Scene 3).

Hotspur and Hal are undeniably distorted mirrors of each other, if not inverses. The picture is muddled. Henry IV, in Act 1 Scene 1, wishes he could swap his Harry for the other. Their speeches of aspiration—Hotspur’s quoted above, and Henry’s coming at the conclusion of Act 1 Scene 2, in which he compares himself to a sun allowing the clouds (e.g. Falstaff, Poins, etc. and the stain of their antics and tavern-dwelling) to block him until he boils them clear—set them in a broken symmetry: Hotspur, willing to move between the very base of the ocean and the moon; Hal, permanently occupying a position above all, and only (falsely) appearing to have sullied himself to shine all the brighter. Where Hotspur presents, as the name suggests, as edgy. His speech is rushed. He clarifies out of need. His brashness both frightens his father and uncle and serves to their ultimate (although given the trajectory of history), brief benefit. Hal presents as similarly off-leash, though in a manner benefit to no one. Unlike Hotspur, though, there’s level of self-awareness and intent to the indulging of his flaws—laziness, mischief, pleasure-seeking.

Then, can we say instead that Hotspur is related to the chivalric tradition? A knight is defined by his troth, his word. He believes, much as Hotspur seems to, in broader notions of justice: Henry IV’s sneaky deposing of Richard II is a wrong it is time to set right. (See Act 3 Scene 1 for much of this). He can be bawdy and dismissive to his wife, Kate, but ultimately his love is never in question. A knight’s rage might overtake him, but he is always ignited by some just cause.

In this light, Hal is our Machiavellian. He has a crafted image. He has no qualms about toying with Francis, the indentured drawer of the inn, and in the same way, seems to have toyed with his own father’s fears and expectations (along with those of their commonwealth) in order to exceed them at just the right moment.

More corrivals can be drawn. As the Archbishop in Act 4 Scene 4 remarks, there are many besides Prince Harry and John, Westmoreland and Blunt on the King’s side meeting at that battlefield in Shrewsbury. In the staging of the battle before the play according to Hotspur, Mortimer and Glendower appear corrivals. By the same token, given claims to succession, Mortimer and Henry IV may themselves be so—though any such conclusion is forestalled by the play ending where it does.

And, though I stretch the meaning here, I would argue there’s some level of corrivality between Falstaff and Hal. It’s not true that they can be seen as equals, not when Hal’s rank is taken into account, but even Falstaff remarks that as just Hal, he’d happily “cudgel” him (Act 3 Scene 3). There are prods back and forth across the two friends, that hint at deeper challenges to come. Hal pulls the prank on Falstaff with the robbery; Falstaff finds his own opportunity when he claims the death of Hotspur as his own. While unequal, there are moments still when Falstaff can take the advantage.