The high point of the text is the deposition scene. This portion so unnerved Queen Elizabeth I, who took it as a personal threat, that she had it censored; and the scene was not printed till James ascended the throne. The deposition is also the high point of this production. The attendants are well blocked, and Basehart and Bosco mesh wonderfully. Their pacing and their subtle give-and-take are just right. And Basehart times his "Ay, no; no, ay" to perfection. This is a moving spectacle indeed. There remains only for the prop department to come up with a better hand-mirror than an allwooden imitation; the best actor in the world could not dash it to the floor with the glass "crack'd in a hundred shivers."

Young Hal Holbrook, despite a dime-store beard, conveys the old age of John of Gaunt in both body and voice, though there is more to be had from his farewell speech, as grand a paean to England as ever was penned. As staged here, Gaunt walks slowly off stage in apparent good health; no sooner is the last of his gown out of sight in the wings when Northumberland (solidly played by Will Geer) bounds back into view to report Gaunt's death. Now Shakespeare is partly to blame, for he wrote only eight lines between Gaunt's last words and the announcement of his death. The director should handle this better, however; for example, by having Gaunt slump on stage while being escorted out, or by inventing some business to pad out the eight lines.

Richard Waring, with his exemplary diction and easy projection, turns the relatively minor role of the Bishop of Carlisle into a major contribution. Helped by inspired writing to be sure, his long denunciation of Bolingbroke is superb acting. There is something noble and thrilling about an individual in the right willing to oppose the mob in the wrong even though he may be scaling his own doom. Thus has it always been: Antigone, Saint Joan, Sir Thomas More, Dr. Thomas Stockmann, Martin Luther King. Carlisle is of their company. In the play's final scene, Bolingbroke sentences Carlisle to live as a perpetual anchorite. Yet when Bolingbroke in the end decides to make a voyage of penance to the Holy Land, Waring's Carlisle, in a splendid touch, has the grandness of soul to step forward and bless his banisher with the sign of the Cross.

I hesitate to take issue with so eminent a Shakespearean as Mark Van Doren, but his statement that the Duke of York "is the one clearly comic personage" in the play is woefully to misread the role. York is not comic; he is piteous. At any rate Patrick Hines brings to York not an interpretation, but a dozen interpretations. I have not the haziest idea what sort of codger Hines takes York to be. And someone should inform Hines that, in Shakespeare, the word 'issue' is not a sneeze.

James Valentine brings a youthful earnestness to the part of Hotspur. Hugh Feagin's Aumerle and Sada Thompson's Duchess of York are helpful. Of the other players, some are adequate, and some so affront the English language as should be banned from any stage whatsoever.

Charles Elson has taken care with his lighting, and Motley's costumes are always appropriate. A special word of praise must go to Conrad Susa for his incidental music. Harpsichord and woodwind gently back up the garden scenes, but most of the time the moods are skilfully underlined by tart wind and timpani. The music is modern, but occasionally incorporates such an authentic medieval device as the Landini cadence.

Two final picayune complaints: (1) What is the rationale in listing the big cast on the printed program specifically not in order of speaking? It is particularly difficult in Shakespeare's history plays to identify many of the sirs, lords, soldiers and whatnot, who often are not referred to by name in the script. A change in policy would be of service to the audience and to the players -- not to mention critics.

(2) At the entrance to the grounds there hangs an escutcheon on both sides of which is emblazoned: American Shakespeare Festival Theatre and Acadamy [sic]. There are more than a hundred acceptable ways to spell the Bard's name, but the road leading into his theatre is not even macadamy.

(A review of the Festival's production of Henry IV, Part One will appear on Thursday.--Ed.