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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

PROFESSOR 
BENJAMIN  H.  LEHMAN 


SHAKESPEARE'S  HISTORY      . 
OF 

KING    HENRY    VIIL 


. 


SHAKESPEARE'S 


HISTORY   OF 


KING   HENRY  THE   EIGHTH. 


EDITED,  WITH  NOTES, 


WILLIAM   J.  ROLFE,  LITT.  D., 

FORMERLY    HEAD    MASTER   OF  THE    HIGH    SCHOOL,  CAMBRIDGE,  MASS 


WITH   ENGRAVINGS. 


NEW  YORK  •:•  CINCINNATI  •:•  CHICAGO 

AMERICAN      BOOK     COMPANY 


ENGLISH   CLASSICS. 

EDITED  BY  WM.  J.  ROLFE,  LITT.  D. 
niustrated.    12mo,  Cloth,  56  cents  per  volume. 


SHAKESPEARE'S 
The  Merchant  of  Venice. 
Othello. 
Julius  Caesar. 

A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream. 
Macbeth. 
Hamlet. 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 
Romeo  and  Juliet. 
As  You  Like  It.     . 
The  Tempest. 
Twelfth  Night. 
The  Winter's  Tale. 
King  John. 
Richard  II. 
Henry  IV.     Part  I. 
Henry  IV.     Part  II. 
Henry  V. 

Henry  VI.     Part  I. 
Henry  VI.     Part  II. 
Henry  VI.     Part  III. 


WORKS. 
Richard  III. 
Henry  VIII. 
King  Lear. 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 
All  's  Well  that  Ends  Well. 
Coriolanus. 

The  Comedy  of  Errors. 
Cymbeline. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra. 
Measure  for  Measure. 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 
Love's  Labour  's  Lost. 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 
Timon  of  Athens. 
Troilus  and  Cressida. 
Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre. 
The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen. 
Venus  and  Adonis,  Lucrece,  etc. 
Sonnets. 
Titus  Andronicus. 


GOLDSMITH'S  SELECT  POEMS.          BROWNING'S  SELECT  POEMS. 
GRAY'S  SELECT  POEMS.  BROWNING'S  SELECT  DRAMAS. 

MINOR  POEMS  OF  JOHN  MILTON.     MACAULAY'S  LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 
.  WORDSWORTH'S  SELECT  POEMS. 

LAMBS'  TALES  FROM  SHAKESPEARE'S  COMEDIES. 
LAMBS'  TALES  FROM  SHAKESPEARE'S  TRAGEDIES. 

EDITED  BY  WM.  J.  ROLFE,  LITT.  D. 
Illustrated.    Cloth,  12mo,  5O  cents  per  volume. 


Copyright,  1871,  1883  and  1898,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 
Copyright,  1899,  bX  WILLIAM  J.   ROLFE. 


Henry  VIII. 
XV.  P.  7 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  KING   HENRY  THE  EIGHTH 7 

I.  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  PLAY , 7 

II.  THE  HISTORICAL  SOURCES  OF  THE  PLAY 1 14 

III.  CRITICAL  COMMENTS  ON  THE  PLAY 16 

KING  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH 43 

ACT  I : 47 

"  II 71 

"  III • 95 

"IV, 118 

«  V. 131 

NOTES 155 


820 


INTRODUCTION 

TO 

KING    HENRY    THE    EIGHTH 


I.  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  PLAY. 

THIS  drama,  under  the  title  of  "The  Famous  History  of 
the  Life  of  King  Henry  the  Eight,"  was  first  published  in 
the  Folio  of  1623,  where  it  occupies  pages  205-232  in  the 
division  of  "  Histories."  It  is  printed  with  remarkable  ac 


8  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

curacy,  and  the  doubtful  or  disputed  readings  are  compara 

tively  few. 

The  date  of  the  play  has  been  the  subject  of  much  dis- 
cussion. The  earlier  editors  and  commentators,  with  the 
single  exception  of  Chalmers,  believed  that  it  was  written 
before  the  death  of  Elizabeth  (March,  1603),  and  that  the 
allusion  to  her  successor,  "  Nor  shall  this  peace  sleep  with 
her,"  etc.  (v.  4),  did  not  form  a  part  of  Cranmer's  speech  as 
originally  composed,  but  was  interpolated  by  Ben  Jonson 
after  James  had  come  to  the  throne.  But,  as  White  remarks, 
"  the  speech  in  question  is  homogeneous  and  Shakespearian  ; 
the  subsequent  allusion  to  Elizabeth  as  'an  aged  princess' 
would  not  have  been  ventured  during  her  life  ;  and  the  exhi- 
bition of  Henry's  selfish  passion  for  Anne  Bullen,  and  of  her 
lightness  of  character,  would  have  been  hardly  less  offensive 
to  the  Virgin  Queen,  her  daughter."  Knight,  Collier,  Dyce, 
Hudson,  and  other  recent  editors,  take  the  same  view. 

But  how  early  in  the  reign  of  James  was  the  play  written  ? 

In  the  Stationers'  Registers,  under  the  date  of  February 
1 2th,  i6o4[~5],  we  find  the  following  memorandum  : — "  Nath. 
Butter]  Yf  he  get  good  allowance  for  the  Enterlude  of  K. 
Henry  8th  before  he  begyn  to  print  it,  and  then  procure  the 
wardens  hands  to  yt  for  the  entrance  of  yt,  he  is  to  have  the 
same  for  his  copy ;"  and  Collier  "  feels  no  hesitation  in  con- 
cluding that  it  referred  to  Shakespeare's  drama,  which  had 
probably  been^  brought  out  at  the  Globe  Theatre  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1604."  Dyce  is  inclined  to  agree  with  Collier;  but 
it  is  probable  that  Chalmers  was  right  in  assuming  that  the 
reference  is  to  a  play  of  Samuel  Rowley's,  "  When  you  See 
me  you  Know  me,  or  the  Famous  Chronicle  History  of  King 
Henry  the  Eighth,"  which  was  published  in  1605. 

Knight,  White,  and  Hudson  believe  that  the  play  was  writ- 
ten at  Stratford  in  1612  or  1613,  and  that  it  was  the  poet's 
last  work.  The  weight  of  evidence,  both  external  and  inter 
nal,  seems  to  be  in  favour  of  this  opinion. 


INTRODUCTION.  g 

The  Globe  Theatre  was  burned  down  on  the  29th*  of 
June,  1613,  and  we  have  accounts  of  the  accident  from  sev- 
eral witnesses.  In  Winwood's  "  Memorials"  there  is  a  letter 
from  John  Chamberlain  to  Sir  Ralph  Winwood,  dated  July 
i2th,  1613,  which  describes  the  burning,  and  says  that  it  "  fell 
out  by  a  peale  of  chambers" — that  is,  a  discharge  of  small 
cannon.  In  the  Harleian  Manuscripts  we  find  a  letter  from 
Thomas  Lorkin  to  Sir  Thomas  Puckering,  dated  "  this  last 
of  June,  1613,"  which  says,  "  No  longer  since  than  yesterday, 
while  Bourbege  his  companie  were  acting  at  y1'  Globe  the 
play  of  Hen -8,  and  there  shooting  of  certayne  chambers  in 
way  of  triumph,  the  fire  catch'd."  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  writ- 
ing to  his  nephew  on  the  6th  of  July,  1613,  gives  a  minute 
account  of  the  accident :  "  Now  to  let  matters  of  state  sleep, 
I  will  entertain  you  at  the  present  with  what  happened  this 
•veek  at  the  Bankside.  The  king's  players  had  a  new  play 
called  All  is  Truefi  representing  some  principal  pieces  of  the 
reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  which  was  set  forth  with  many 
extraordinary  circumstances  of  pomp  and  majesty.  .  .  . 
Now,  King  Henry  making  a  mask  at  the  Cardinal  Wolsey's 
house,  and  certain  cannons  being  shot  off  at  his  entry,  some 
of  the  paper,  or  other  stuff  wherewith  one  of  them  was  stopped, 
did  light  on  the  thatch,  where,  being  thought  at  first  but  an 
idle  smoke,  and  their  eyes  being  more  attentive  to  the  show, 
it  kindled  inwardly,  and  ran  round  like  a  train,  consuming, 
in  less  than  an  hour,  the  whole  house  to  the  very  ground. 

*  White  says  "  the  26th,"  but  it  is  probably  a  slip  of  the  type.  Cf. 
Lorkin's  letter,  quoted  below. 

t  A  ballad  of  the  time,  entitled  "  The  Lamentable  Burning  of  the  Globe 
Play-House  en  S.  Peter's  Day,"  has  for  the  burden  at  the  end  of  each 
stanza, 

"  O  sorrow,  pitiful  sorrow  1 
And  yet  it  All  is  True  !" 
In  the  fifth  stanza  we  have  the  lines, 

"Away  ran  Lady  Katherinc, 
Nor  waited  out  her  trial." 
vhich  prove  that  the  trial  of  the  Queen  formed  a  part  of  the  play. 


ro  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

This  was  the  fatal  period  of  that  virtuous  fabric,  wherein  yei 
nothing  did  perish  but  wood  and  straw,  and  a  few  forsaken 
cloaks  ;  only  one  man  had  his  breeches  set  on  fire,  that  would 
perhaps  have  broiled  him  if  he  had  not,  by  the  benefit  of  a 
provident  wit,  put  it  out  with  bottle  ale."  Howes,  in  his  con- 
tinuation of  Stowe's  "  Annales,"  written  some  time  after  the 
fire  (since  he  speaks  of  the  theatre  as  rebuilt  "  the  next 
spring"),  says  that  the  house  was  "filled  with  people  to  be- 
hold the  play,  viz.,  of  Henry  the  Eighth"  There  can  be  lit- 
tle doubt  that  the  play  in  question  was  Shakespeare's  Henry 
VIII.,  in  which,  according  to  the  original  stage  direction 
(iv.  i),  we  have  "chambers  discharged"  at  the  entrance  of 
the  king  to  the  "mask  at  the  cardinal's  house."  It  appears 
to  have  had  at  first  a  double  title,  but  the  "  All  is  True"  was 
soon  dropped,  leaving  only  the  more  distinctive  title  corre- 
sponding to  those  of  Shakespeare's  other  historical  plays. 
There  seem  to  be  several  references  to  the  lost  title  in  the 
Prologue  :  "  May  here  find  truth  too  ;"  "  To  rank  our  chosen 
truth  with  such  a  show ;"  and  "  To  make  that  only  true  we 
now  intend." 

The  evidence  drawn  from  the  play  itself  tends  to  confirm 
this  view  of  its  date.  In  the  prophecy  of  Cranmer,  the  lines, 

"  Wherever  the  bright  sun  of  heaven  shall  shine, 
His  honour,  and  the  greatness  of  his  name, 
Shall  be,  and  make  new  nations," 

allude,  we  can  hardly  doubt,  to  the  colonization  of  Virginia, 
and,  if  so,  could  not  have  been  written  earlier  than  1607. 

The  style  and  the  versification  of  the  play,  moreover,  indi- 
cate that  it  was  one  of  the  last  productions  of  the  poet.  As 
White  has  remarked,  "  the  excessively  elliptical  construction, 
and  the  incessant  use  of  verbal  contractions,  are  marks  of 
Shakespeare's  latest  years — those  which  produced  The  Tem- 
pest and  Thr  U'iutn-s  Talr"  It  will  be  observed  also  that 
many  of  the  lines  end  with  unaccented  monosyllables  or 


INTRODUCTION.  rl 

particles  ;  and  this  peculiarity  is  very  rare  in  those  plays  ot 
Shakespeare  which  are  known  to  be  his  earliest,  while  it  is 
frequent  in  those  which  are  known  to  be  his  latest. 

A  majority  of  the  best  critics  now  agree  that  portions  of 
Henry  VIII.  were  written  by  Fletcher.  Mr.  Roderick,  in 
notes  appended  to  Edwards's  Canons  of  Criticism,  was  the 
first  to  point  out  certain  peculiarities  in  the  versification 
of  the  play  —  the  frequent  occurrence  of  a  redundant  or 
eleventh  syllable,  of  pauses  nearer  the  end  of  the  verse  than 
usual,  and  of  "  emphasis  clashing  with  the  cadence  of  the 
metre."  Mr.  Spedding  (Gentleman  s  Magazine,  Aug.,  1850) 
and  Mr.  Hickson  (Notes  and  Queries,  vol.  ii.  p.  198,  and  vol. 
iii.  p.  33)  both  fix  on  certain  scenes  as  Fletcher's,  basing 
their  opinion  on  the  structure  of  the  verse,  and  the  recur- 
rence of  words  and  phrases  which  they  think  peculiar  to 
Fletcher.  Craik  (English  of  Shakespeare,  Rolfe's  ed.,  pp.  10, 
38)  believes  that  much  of  the  play  is  "evidently  by  another 
hand,"  the  character  of  the  versification  being  "  the  most 
conclusive,  or,  at  least,  the  clearest  evidence  that  it  can  not 
have  been  written  throughout  by  Shakespeare."  Abbott 
(Shakespearian  Grammar,  p.  331),  after  stating  that  in  Shake- 
speare's verse  "  the  extra  syllable  [at  the  end  of  a  line]  is 
very  rarely  a  monosyllable,"  says:  "  The  fact  that  in  Henry 
VIII.,  and  in  no  other  play  of  Shakespeare's,  constant  excep- 
tions are  found  to  this  rule,  seems  to  me  a  sufficient  proof  that 
Shakespeare  did  not  write  that  play."  Fleay,*  Furnivall,  and 
Dovvden  agree  with  Spedding  in  assigning  to  Shakespeare  act 
i.  sc.  1,2  ;  act  ii.  sc.  3,4;  act  iii.  sc.  2  (to  exit  of  King,  line  203); 
and  act  v.  sc.  i  :  the  remainder  they  believe  to  be  Fletcher's. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Courtenay  (Comments  on  the  Histor- 
ical Plays,  vol.  ii.  p.  172),  referring  to  Roderick's  criticisms, 
says:  "  How  Shakespeare  came  thus  to  vary  his  measure  I 
can  not  guess,  but  that  it  is  his  measure  I  see  not  the  least 
reason  for  doubting.  I  know  that  even  in  prose  the  con- 
*  See  also  our  cd.  of  The  7'wo  Noble  Kinsmen,  p.  42. 


12  KING   HKNRY  VIII. 

struction  of  sentences,  and  (if  1  may  say  so)  the  air,  is  much 
affected  by  the  tone  of  the  writer's  mind  at  the  moment,  and 
by  the  nature  of  the  subject."  Singer,  in  his  Introduction  to 
the  play,  remarks :  "  I  must  confess  that  I  have  no  faith  in 
the  deductions  from  the  structure  of  the  verse;  Shakespeare 
is  so  varied  in  this  respect  that,  upon  the  same  ground,  other 
portions  of  his  works  might  be  brought  in  question.  The 
peculiarities  of  language,  too,  are  pretty  uniformly  distributed, 
and  some  of  them  will  be  found  in  those  scenes  which  Sped- 
ding  and  Hickson  have  given  to  Shakespeare."  Knight 
(Supplementary  Notice,  in  his  Pictorial  Edition)  admits  that 
there  are  peculiarities  in  the  verse  "  not  found  in  any  other 
of  Shakspere's  works  ;"  but  holds,  nevertheless,  that  the  theo- 
ry of  its  not  being  wholly  his  own  is  "utterly  untenable." 
He  adds  :  "  There  is  no  play  of  Shakspere's  which  has  a 
more  decided  character  of  unity — no  one  from  which  any 
passage  could  be  less  easily  struck  out.  We  believe  that 
Shakspere  worked  in  this  particular  upon  a  principle  of  art 
which  he  had  proposed  to  himself  to  adhere  to,  wherever 
the  nature  of  the  scene  would  allow.  The  elliptical  con- 
struction, and  the  license  of  versification,  brought  the  dia- 
logue, whenever  the  speaker  was  not  necessarily  rhetorical, 
closer  to  the  language  of  common  life.  Of  all  his  historical 
plays,  the  Henry  VIII.  is  the  nearest  in  its  story  to  his  own 
times.  It  professed  to  be  a  'truth.'  It  belongs  to  his  own 
country.  It  has  no  poetical  indistinctness  about  it,  either 
of  time  or  place  ;  all  is  defined.  If  the  diction  and  the  ver- 
sification had  been  more  artificial,  it  would  have  been  less  a 
reality."  Ward  (Eng.  Dram.  Lit.,  vol.  ii.  p.  447)  does  not 
accept  the  theory  of  a  divided  authorship  ;  and  Halliwell- 
Phillipps  (Outlines  of  Life  of  S.,  3d  ed.  p.  212)  believes  that 
the  play  was  written  some  time  after  the  burning  of  the 
Globe  theatre  in  1613,  and  that  the  peculiarities  of  the 
metre  are  to  be  explained  by  its  late  date.* 
*  In  this  3d  ed.,  however,  he  omits  the  emphatic  condemnation  of 


INTRODUCTION.  l^ 

The  leading  German  critics  differ  no  less  widely  in  their 
views.  Gervinus  (Shakespeare  Commentaries]  thinks  that 
Shakespeare  prepared  a  mere  sketch  of  the  play,  and  gave 
it  to  Fletcher  to  be  finished.  The  former  was  the  only 
poet  of  the  time  who  could  have  "sketched  the  psychologi- 
cal outlines  of  the  main  characters  with  so  much  sharpness;" 
but  k'  Fletcher's  rhythmic  manner  is  strikingly  conspicuous 
throughout."  There  is  also  a  "lack  of  dramatic  unity,"  and 
a  "  looseness  in  the  development  of  the  action,"  which  show 
that  the  outline  from  the  hand  of  the  great  master  was  filled 
out  by  an  inferior  artist. 

Ulrici,  on  the  other  hand,  in  his  Shakespeare's  Dramatic 
Art,  maintains  that  "all  the  internal  marks  of  style,  language, 
character,  and  versification  "  prove  that  the  play  is  Shake- 
speare's. He  thinks  it  not  improbable  that  it  was  written 
in  honor  of  the  nuptials  of  the  Palsgrave  Frederick  and  the 
Princess  Elizabeth  in  1613.  "It  is  certain  that  during  the 
Palsgrave's  visit  several  of  Shakespeare's  plays  were  per- 
formed before  the  court,  and  among  them  The  Tempest,  which 
contains  many  palpable  allusions  to  the  marriage  festival." 
The  peculiarities  of  style  and  versification  are  to  be  explained 
by  assuming  "  either  that  Shakespeare  was  hurried  by  the 
sudden  command  of  the  court  to  produce  a  new  drama  for 
the  nuptial  festivities,  or  probably  merely  by  the  event  itself, 
or  that  he  composed  the  play  in  the  last  years  of  his  life,  and 
consequently  had  no  time  for  a  careful  revision  of  it." 

After  careful  study  of  all  that  has  been  written  on  both 
sides  of  the  question,  we  have  no  hesitation  in  adopting 
Spedding's  theory  and  his  division  of  the  play  between  the 
two  authors. 

Spedding's  views  which  appears  in  the  2d  ed.  p.  304 ;  where  he  says, 
among  other  things  in  the  same  vein,  that  "students  who  belong  to  an 
older  school  are  literally  petrified  by  the  announcement  that  Wolsey's 
farewell  to  all  his  greatness,  as  well  as  a  large  part  of  the  scene  in  which 
it  occurs,  are  henceforth  to  be  considered  the  composition  of  some  other 
author." 


KING  HENRY 

/ 


WOLSEY'S  HALL. 


II.  THE  HISTORICAL  SOURCES  OF  THE  PLAY. 

The  historical  authorities  followed  by  the  authors  in  the 
first  four  acts  of  the  play  were  Edward  Hall's  '"  Union  of  the 


INTRODUCTION.  !5 

Families  of  Lancaster  and  York,"  the  first  edition  of  which 
appeared  in  1548,  and  Raphael  Holinshed's  "Chronicles  of 
England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,"  published  in  1577.  These 
writers  had  copied  largely  from  George  Cavendish's  "  Life 
of  Cardinal  Wolsey,"  of  which  there  were  many  manuscript 
copies  in  Shakespeare's  day,  though  the  work  was  not  print- 
ed until  1641.  For  the  fifth  act  he  took  his  materials  from 
John  Fox's  "Acts  and  Monuments  of  the  Church,"  published 
in  1563. 

In  these  books  the  poets  found  many  details  which  they 
put  into  dramatic  form  with  very  slight  change  of  language, 
as  will  be  seen  from  the  illustrations  given  in  our  Notes. 
The  action  of  the  play  includes  events  scattered  through  a 
period  of  about  twenty-three  years,  or  from  1520  to  1543,  and 
the  events  are  not  always  given  in  their  chronological  order. 
Thus  the  reversal  of  the  decree  for  taxing  ^he  commons 
(1525)  and  the  examination  of  Buckingham's  surveyor  (1521) 
are  in  one  scene  ;  the  banquet  scene  (1526)  precedes  that  of 
Buckingham's  execution,  and  in  the  latter  scene  we  find  men- 
tion of  Henry's  scruples  concerning  his  marriage  (1527)  and 
of  the  arrival  of  Campeggio  (1529) ;  the  scene  in  which  Anne 
is  made  Marchioness  of  Pembroke  (1532)  precedes  that  of 
the  trial  of  the  queen  (1529) ;  the  death  of  Wolsey  (1530)  is 
announced  to  Katherine  in  the  scene  in  which  she  dies 
(1536) ;  in  the  same  scene  in  which  the  birth  of  Elizabeth 
(1533)  is  announced  to  the  king,  he  converses  with  Cranmer 
about  the  charge  of  heresy  (1543)  ;  and  in  the  scene  in  which 
Cranmer  is  accused  before  the  council  (1543),  Henry  asks 
him  to  be  godfather  at  the  baptism  of  Elizabeth  (1533). 
Even  if  we  make  no  account  of  the  introduction  of  the 
charges  against  Cranmer  (1543),  the  action  of  the  play  will 
cover  a  period  of  some  sixteen  years,  from  the  return  of  the 
English  Court  from  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold  in  1520, 
to  the  death  of  Katherine  in  1536. 


i6 


KING  HENRY  «//. 


QUEEN    KATHEK1NE. 


III.  CRITICAL  COMMENTS  ON  THE  PLAY. 

[From  Mrs.  Jamesorfs  "  Characteristics  ofWomen"~\ 

QUEEN  KATHERINE  OF  ARRAGON.* 

To  have  a  just  idea  of  the  accuracy  and  beauty  of  this  his 
torical  portrait,  we  ought  to  bring  immediately  before  us  those 
circumstances  of  Katherine's  life  and  times,  and  those  parts 
of  her  character,  which  belong  to  a  period  previous  to  the 
opening  of  the  play.  We  shall  then  be  better  able  to  appre- 
ciate the  skill  with  which  Shakespeare  has  applied  the  mate 
rials  before  him. 

*  We  know  of  no  better  Historical  Introduction  to  the  play  than  this 
admirable  paper,  which  we  therefore  give  almost  entire — omitting  merely 
a  paragraph  devoted  to  a  comparison  of  the  characters  of  Katherine  and 
of  Hermione  in  The  Winter's  Tale. 


INTRODUCTION.  I? 

Katherine  of  Arragon,  the  fourth  and  youngest  daughter 
of  Ferdinand,  king  of  Arragon,  and  Isabella  of  Castile,  was 
born  at  Alcala,  whither  her  mother  had  retired  to  winter  after 
one  of  the  most  terrible  campaigns  of  the  Moorish  war — that 
of  1485. 

Katherine  had  derived  from  nature  no  dazzling  qualities 
of  mind,  and  no  striking  advantages  of  person.  She  inherit- 
ed a  tincture  of  Queen  Isabella's  haughtiness  and  obstinacy 
of  temper,  but  neither  her  beauty  nor  her  splendid  talents. 
Her  education,  under  the  direction  of  her  extraordinary 
mother,  had  implanted  in  her  mind  the  most  austere  princi- 
ples of  virtue,  the  highest  ideas  of  female  decorum,  the  most 
narrow  and  bigoted  attachment  to  the  forms  of  religion,  and 
that  excessive  pride  of  birth  and  rank  whidi  distinguished  so 
particularly  her  family  and  her  nation.  In  other  respects, 
her  understanding  was  strong  and  her  judgment  clear.  The 
natural  turn  of  her  mind  was  simple,  serious,  and  domestic, 
and  all  the  impulses  of  her  heart  kindly  and  benevolent. 
Such  was  Katherine ;  such,  at  least,  she  appears  on  a  refer- 
ence to  the  chronicles  of  her  times,  and  particularly  from  her 
own  letters,  and  the  papers  written  or  dictated  by  herself 
which  relate  to  her  divorce ;  all  of  which  are  distinguished 
by  the  same  artless  simplicity  of  style,  the  same  quiet  good 
sense,  the  same  resolute  yet  gentle  spirit  and  fervent  piety. 

When  five  years  old,  Katherine  was  solemnly  affianced  to 
Arthur,  prince  of  Wales,  the  eldest  son  of  Henry  VII. ;  and 
,n  the  year  1501  she  landed  in  England,  after  narrowly  es- 
caping shipwreck  on  the  southern  coast,  from  which  every 
adverse  wind  conspired  to  drive  her.  She  was  received  in 
London  with  great  honour,  and  immediately  on  her  arrival 
united  to  the  young  prince.  He  was  then  fifteen,  and  Kath- 
erine in  her  seventeenth  year. 

Arthur,  as  it  is  well  known,  survived  his  marriage  only  five 
months  ;  and  the  reluctance  of  Henry  VII.  to  refund  the 
splendid  dowry  of  the  Infanta,  and  forego  the  advantages  of 


18  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

an  alliance  with  the  most  powerful  prince  of  Europe,  suggest- 
ed the  idea  of  uniting  Katherine  to  his  second  son  Henry  j 
after  some  hesitation  a  dispensation  was  procured  from  the 
pope,  and  she  was  betrothed  to  Henry  in  her  eighteenth 
year.  The  prince,  who  was  then  only  twelve  years  old,  re- 
sisted as  far  as  he  was  able  to  do  so,  and  appears  to  have 
really  felt  a  degree  of  horror  at  the  idea  of  marrying  his 
brother's  widow.  Nor  was  the  mind  of  King  Henry  at  rest '; 
as  his  health  declined,  his  conscience  reproached  him  with 
the  equivocal  nature  of  the  union  into  which  he  had  forced 
his  son,  and  the  vile  motives  of  avarice  and  expediency  which 
had  governed  him  on  this  occasion.  A  short  time  previous 
to  his  death  he  dissolved  the  engagement,  and  even  caused 
Henry  to  sign  a  paper  in  which  he  solemnly  renounced  all 
idea  of  a  future  union  with  the  Infanta.  It  is  observable 
that  Henry  signed  this  paper  with  reluctance,  and  that  Kath- 
erine, instead  of  being  sent  back  to  her  own  country,  still  re- 
mained in  England. 

It  appears  that  Henry,  who  was  now  about  seventeen,  had 
become  interested  for  Katherine,  who  was  gentle  and  amia- 
ble. The  difference  of  years  was  rather  a  circumstance  in 
her  favor ;  for  Henry  was  just  at  that  age  when  a  youth  is 
most  likely  to  be  captivated  by  a  woman  older  than  himself: 
and  no  sooner  was  he  required  to  renounce  her  than  the  in- 
terest she  had  gradually  gained  in  his  affections  became,  by 
opposition  a  strong  passion.  Immediately  after  his  father's 
death  he  declared  his  resolution  to  take  for  his  wife  the  Lady 
Katherine  of  Spain,  and  none  other ;  and  when  the  matter 
was  discussed  in  council,  it  was  urged  that,  besides  the  many 
advantages  of  the  match  in  a  political  point  of  view,  she  had 
given  so  "  much  proof  of  virtue  and  sweetness  of  condition 
as  they  knew  not  where  to  parallel  her."  About  six  weeks 
after  his  accession,  June  3,  1509,  the  marriage  was  celebrated 
with  truly  royal  splendour,  Henry  being  then  eighteen  and 
Katherine  in  her  twenty-fourth  year. 


IN  TROD  UCTIOtf.  1 9 

It  has  been  said  with  truth,  that  if  Henry  had  died  while 
Katherine  was  yet  his  wife  and  Wolsey  his  minister,  he  would 
have  left  behind  him  the  character  of  a  magnificent,  popular, 
and  accomplished  prince,  instead  of  that  of  the  most  hateful 
ruffian  and  tyrant  who  ever  swayed  these  realms.  Notwith- 
standing his  occasional  infidelities,  and  his  impatience  at  her 
midnight  vigils,  her  long  prayers,  and  her  religious  austeri 
ties,  Katherine  and  Henry  lived  in  harmony  together.  He 
was  fond  of  openly  displaying  his  respect  and  love  for  her, 
and  she  exercised  a  strong  and  salutary  influence  over  his 
turbulent  and  despotic  spirit.  When  Henry  set  out  on  his 
expedition  to  France  in  1513,  he  left  Katherine  regent  of  the 
kingdom  during  his  absence,  with  full  powers  to  carry  on  the 
war  against  the  Scots,  and  the  Earl  of  Surrey  at  the  head  of 
the  army  as  her  lieutenant  general.  It  is  curious  to  find 
Katherine — the  pacific,  domestic,  and  unpretending  Kather- 
ine— describing  herself  as  having  "  her  heart  set  to  war,"  and 
"  horrible  busy"  with  making  "  standards,  banners,  badges, 
scarfs,  and  the  like."*  Nor  was  this  mere  silken  prepara- 
tion— mere  dalliance  with  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of 
war  ;  for  within  a  few  weeks  afterward  her  general  defeated 
the  Scots  in  the  famous  battle  of  Floddenfield,  where  James 
IV.  and  most  of  his  nobility  were  slain. f 

Katherine's  letter  to  Henry,  announcing  this  event,  so 
strikingly  displays  the  piety  and  tenderness,  the  quiet  sim- 
plicity, and  real  magnanimity  of  her  character,  that  there  can 
not  be  a  more  apt  and  beautiful  illustration  of  the  exquisite 
truth  and  keeping  of  Shakespeare's  portrait 

SIR, — My  Lord  Howard  hath  sent  me  a  letter,  open  to 
your  Grace,  within  one  of  mine,  by  the  which  ye  shall  see  at 

*  See  her  letters  in  Ellis's  Collection. 

t  Under  similar  circumstances,  one  of  Katherine's  predecessors,  Philip- 
pa  of  Hainault,  had  gained  in  her  husband's  absence  the  battle  of  Neville 
Cross,  in  which  David  Bruce  was  taken  prisoner. 


20  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

length  the  great  victory  that  our  Lord  hath  sent  your  sub- 
jects in  your  absence  :  and  for  this  cause  it  is  no  need  herein 
to  trouble  your  Grace  with  long  writing ;  but  to  my  thinking 
this  battle  hath  been  to  your  Grace,  and  all  your  realm,  the 
greatest  honour  that  could  be,  and  more  than  ye  should  win 
all  the  crown  of  France,  thanked  be  God  for  it !  And  I  am 
sure  your  Grace  forgetteth  not  to  do  this,  which  shall  be 
cause  to  send  you  many  more  such  great  victories,  as  I  trust 
he  shall  do.  My  husband,  for  haste,  with  Rougecross,  I 
could  not  send  your  Grace  the  piece  of  the  King  of  Scots' 
coat,  which  John  Glyn  now  bringeth.  In  this  your  Grace 
shall  see  how  I  can  keep  my  promise,  sending  you  for  your 
banners  a  king's  coat.  I  thought  to  send  himself  unto  you, 
but  our  Englishmen's  hearts  would  not  suffer  it.  It  should 
have  been  better  for  him  to  have  been  in  peace  than  have 
this  reward,  but  all  that  God  sendeth  is  for  the  best.  My 
Lord  of  Surrey,  my  Henry,  would  fain  know  your  pleasure  in 
the  burying  of  the  King  of  Scots'  body,  for  he  hath  written  to 
me  so.  With  the  next  messenger  your  Grace's  pleasure  may 
be  herein  known.  And  with  this  I  make  an  end,  praying 
God  to  send  you  home  shortly ;  for  without  this  no  joy  here 
can  be  accomplished — and  for  the  same  I  pray.  And  now 
go  to  out  Lady  at  Walsyngham,  that  I  promised  so  long  ago 
to  see. 

At  Woburn,  the  i6th  day  of  September  (1513). 
I  send  your  Grace  herein  a  bill,  found  in  a  Scottishman's 
purse,  of  such  things  as  the  French  king  sent  to  the  said 
King  of  Scots,  to  make  war  against  you,  beseeching  you  to 
send  Mathew  hither  as  soon  as  this  messenger  cometh  with 
tidings  of  your  Grace.  Your  humble  wife  and  true  servant, 

KATHERINE.* 

*  Ellis's  Collection.  We  must  keep  in  mind  that  Katherine  was  a  for- 
eigner, and  till  after  she  was  seventeen  never  spoke  or  wrote  a  word  of 
English. 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

The  legality  of  the  king's  marriage  with  Katherine  remain- 
ed undisputed  till  1527.  In  the  course  of  that  year  Anna 
Bullen  first  appeared  at  court,  and  was  appointed  maid  of 
honour  to  the  queen  ;  and  then,  and  not  till  then,  did  Henry's 
union  with  his  brother's  wife  "  creep  too  near  his  conscience." 
In  the  following  year  he  sent  special  messengers  to  Rome 
with  secret  instructions :  they  were  required  to  discover 
(among  other  "hard  questions")  whether,  if  the  queen  enter- 
ed a  religious  life,  the  king  might  have  the  pope's  dispensa- 
tion to  marry  again  ;  and  whether,  if  the  king  (for  the  better 
inducing  the  queen  thereto)  would  enter  himself  into  a  relig- 
ious life,  the  pope  would  dispense  with  the  king's  vow,  and 
leave  her  there  ? 

Poor  Katherine !  we  are  not  surprised  to  read  that  when 
she  understood  what  was  intended  against  her,  "she  laboured 
with  all  those  passions  which  jealousy  of  the  king's  affection, 
sense  of  her  own  honour,  and  the  legitimation  of  her  daughter 
could  produce,  laying  in  conclusion  the  whole  fault  on  the 
cardinal."  It  is  elsewhere  said  that  Wolsey  bore  the  queen 
ill-will  in  consequence  of  her  reflecting  with  some  severity  on 
his  haughty  temper  and  very  unclerical  life. 

The  proceedings  were  pending  for  nearly  six  years,  and 
one  of  the  causes  of  this  long  delay,  in  spite  of  Henry's  im- 
patient and  despotic  character,  is  worth  noting.  The  old 
Chronicle  tells  us  that,  though  the  men  generally,  and  more 
particularly  the  priests  and  the  nobles,  sided  with  Henry  in 
this  matter,  yet  all  the  ladies  of  England  were  against  it. 
They  justly  felt  that  the  honour  and  welfare  of  no  woman  was 
secure  if,  after  twenty  years  of  union,  she  might  be  thus  de- 
prived of  all  her  rights  as  a  wife  ;  the  clamour  became  so  loud 
and  general  that  the  king  was  obliged  to  yield  to  it  for  a 
time,  to  stop  the  proceedings,  and  to  banish  Anna  Bullen 
from  the  court. 

Cardinal  Campeggio,  called  by  Shakespeare  Campeius,  ar- 
rived in  England  in  October,  1528.  He  at  first  endeavoured 


22  A-//VS  HENRY  VIII. 

to  persuade  Katherine  to  avoid  the  disgrace  and  danger  of 
contesting  her  marriage  by  entering  a  religious  house ;  but 
she  rejected  his  advice  with  strong  expressions  of  disdain. 
u  I  am,"  said  she,  "  the  king's  true  wife,  and  to  him  married  ; 
and  if  all  doctors  were  dead,  or  law  or  learning  far  out  of 
men's  minds  at  the  time  of  our  marriage,  yet  I  cannot  think 
that  the  court  of  Rome,  and  the  whole  Church  of  England, 
would  have  consented  to  a  thing  unlawful  and  detestable  as 
you  call  it.  •  Still  I  say  I  am  his  wife,  and  for  him  will  I  pray." 

About  two  years  afterwards  Wolsey  died  (in  November, 
1530) — the  king  and  queen  met  for  the  last  time  on  the 
I4th  of  July,  1531.  Until  that  period,  some  outward  show 
of  respect  and  kindness  had  been  maintained  between  them  ; 
but  the  king  then  ordered  her  to  repair  to  a  private  residence, 
and  no  longer  to  consider  herself  as  his  lawful  wife.  "  To 
which  the  virtuous  and  mourning  queen  replied  no  more  than 
this,  that  to  whatever  place  she  removed,  nothing  could  re- 
move her  from  being  the  king's  wife.  And  so  they  bid  each 
other  farewell ;  and  from  this  time  the  king  never  saw  her 
more."*  He  married  Anna  Bullen  in  1532,  while  the  decis- 
ion relating  to  his  former  marriage  was  still  pending.  The 
sentence  of  divorce,  to  which  Katherine  never  would  submit, 
was  finally  pronounced  by  Cranmer  in  1533  ;  and  the  unhap- 
py queen,  whose  health  had  been  gradually  declining  through 
these  troubles  of  heart,  died  January  29,  1536,  in  the  fiftieth 
year  of  her  age. 

Thus  the  action  of  the  play  of  Henry  VIII.  includes  events 
which  occurred  from  the  impeachment  of  the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham in  1521,  to  the  death  of  Katherine  in  1536.  In  mak- 
ing the  death  of  Katherine  precede  the  birth  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, Shakespeare  has  committed  an  anachronism,  not  only 
pardonable,  but  necessary.  We  must  remember  that  the 
construction  of  the  play  required  a  happy  termination ;  and 
that  the  birth  of  Elizabeth,  before  or  after  the  death  of  Kath 
*  Hall's  Chronicle. 


INTRODUCTION.  33 

erine,  involved  the  question  of  her  legitimacy.  By  this  slight 
deviation  from  the  real  course  of  events,  Shakespeare  has  not 
perverted  historic  facts,  but  merely  sacrificed  them  to  a  higher 
principle ;  and  in  doing  so  has  not  only  preserved  dramatic 
propriety,  and  heightened  the  poetical  interest,  but  has  given 
a  strong  proof  both  of  his  delicacy  and  his  judgment. 

If  we  also  call  to  mind  that  in  this  play  Katherine  is  prop- 
erly the  heroine,  and  exhibited  from  first  to  last  as  the  very 
"  queen  of  earthly  queens ;"  that  the  whole  interest  is  thrown 
round  her  and  Wolsey — the  one  the  injured  rival,  the  other 
the  enemy  of  Anna  Bullen — and  that  it  was  written  in  the 
reign  and  for  the  court  of  Elizabeth,  we  shall  yet  farther  ap- 
preciate the  moral  greatness  of  the  poet's  mind,  which  dis- 
dained to  sacrifice  justice  and  the  truth  of  nature  to  any 
time-serving  expediency. 

Schlegel  observes  somewhere,  that  in  the  literal  accuracy 
and  apparent  artlessness  with  which  Shakespeare  has  adapted 
some  of  the  events  and  characters  of  history  to  his  dramatic 
purposes,  he  has  shown  equally  his  genius  and  his  wisdom. 
This,  like  most  of  Schlegel's  remarks,  is  profound  and  true ; 
and  in  this  respect  Katherine  of  Arragon  may  rank  as  the 
triumph  of  Shakespeare's  genius  and  his  wisdom.  There  is 
nothing  in  the  whole  range  of  poetical  fiction  in  any  respect 
resembling  or  approaching  her  ;  there  is  nothing  comparable, 
I  suppose,  but  Katherine's  own  portrait  by  Holbein,  which, 
equally  true  to  the  life,  is  yet  as  far  inferior  as  Katherine's 
person  was  Inferior  to  her  mind.  Not  only  has  Shakespeare 
given  us  here  a  delineation  as  faithful  as  it  is  beautiful,  of  a 
peculiar  modification  of  character,  but  he  has  bequeathed  us 
a  precious  moral  lesson  in  this  proof  that  virtue  alone — 
(by  which  I  mean  here  the  union  of  truth  or  conscience  with 
benevolent  affection — the  one  the  highest  law,  the  other  the 
purest  impulse  of  the  soul) — that  such  virtue  is  a  sufficient 
source  of  the  deepest  pathos  and  power  without  any  mixture 
of  foreign  or  external  ornament :  for  who  but  Shakespeare 


24  KING  HENRY  VIIL 

would  have  brought  before  us  a  queen  and  a  heroine  of  trag 
edy,  stripped  her  of  all  pomp  of  place  and  circumstance,  dis- 
pensed with  all  the  usual  sources  of  poetical  interest,  as  youth, 
beauty,  grace,  fancy,  commanding  intellect,  and  without  any 
appeal  to  our  imagination,  without  any  violation  of  historical 
truth,  or  any  sacrifices  of  the  other  dramatic  personages  for 
the  sake  of  effect,  could  depend  on  the  moral  principle  alone 
to  touch  the  very  springs  of  feeling  in  our  bosoms,  and  melt 
and  elevate  our  hearts  through  the  purest  and  holiest  im- 
pulses of  our  nature-! 

The  character,  when  analyzed,  is,  in  the  first  place,  distin- 
guished by  truth.  I  do  not  only  mean  its  truth  to  nature,  or 
its  relative  truth  arising  from  its  historic  fidelity  and  dra- 
matic consistency,  but  truth  as  a  quality  of  the  soul :  this  is 
the  basis  of  the  character.  We  often  hear  it  remarked  that 
those  who  are  themselves  perfectly  true  and  artless  are  in 
this  world  the  more  easily  and  frequently  deceived — a  com- 
monplace fallacy :  for  we  shall  ever  find  that  truth  is  as  un- 
deceived as  it  is  undeceiving,  and  that  those  who  are  true  to 
themselves  and  others  may  now  and  then  be  mistaken,  or  in 
particular  instances  duped  by  the  intervention  of  some  other 
affection  or  quality  of  the  mind  ;  but  they  are  generally  free 
from  illusion,  and  they  are  seldom  imposed  upon  in  the  long 
run  by  the  shows  of  things  and  superfices  of  characters.  It 
is  by  this  integrity  of  heart  and  clearness  of  understanding, 
this  light  of  truth  within  her  own  soul,  and  not  through  any 
acuteness  of  intellect,  that  Katherine  detects  and  exposes  the 
real  character  of  Wolsey,  though  unable  either  to  unravel  his 
designs  or  defeat  them. 

My  lord,  my  lord, 

I  am  a  simple  woman,  much  too  weak 
T  oppose  your  cunning. 

She  rather  intuitively  feels  than  knows  his  duplicity,  and 
in  the  dignity  of  her  simplicity  she  towers  above  his  arrogance 
as  much  as  she  scorns  his  crooked  policy.  With  this  essen 


INTRODUCTION.  25 

tial  truth  are  combined  many  other  qualities,  natural  or  ac 
quired,  ail  made  out  with  the  same  uncompromising  breadth 
of  execution  and  fidelity  of  pencil,  united  with  the  utmost  del- 
icacy of  feeling.  For  instance,  the  apparent  contradiction 
arising  from  the  contrast  between  Katherine's  natural  dispo- 
sition and  the  situation  in  which  she  is  placed  ;  her  lofty  Gas 
tiiian  pride  and  her  extreme  simplicity  of  language  and  de 
portment;  the  inflexible  resolution  with  which  she  asserts 
her  right,  and  her  soft  resignation  to  unkindness  and  wrong  } 
her  warmth  of  temper  breaking  through  the  meekness  of  a 
spirit  subdued  by  a  deep  sense  of  religion  ;  and  a  degree  of 
austerity  tinging  her  real  benevolence — all  these  qualities, 
opposed  yet  harmonizing,  has  Shakespeare  placed  before  us 
in  a  few  admirable  scenes. 

Katherine  is  at  first  introduced  as  pleading  before  the  king 
in  behalf  of  the  commonalty,  who  had  been  driven  by  the  ex- 
tortions of  Wolsey  into  some  illegal  excesses.  In  this  scene, 
which  is  true  to  history,  we  have  her  upright  reasoning  mind, 
her  steadiness  of  purpose,  her  piety  and  benevolence,  placed 
in  a  strong  light.  The  unshrinking  dignity  with  which  she 
opposes  without  descending  to  brave  the  cardinal,  the  stern 
rebuke  addressed  to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  surveyor,  are 
finely  characteristic  ;  and  by  thus  exhibiting  Katherine  as  in- 
vested with  all  her  conjugal  rights  and  influence,  and  royal 
state,  the  subsequent  situations  are  rendered  more  impressive. 
She  is  placed  in  the  first  instance  on  such  a  height  in  our  es- 
teem and  reverence,  that  in  the  midst  of  her  abandonment 
and  degradation,  and  the  profound  pity  she  afterwards  inspires, 
the  first  effect  remains  unimpaired,  and  she  never  falls  be- 
neath it. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  second  act  we  are  prepared  for  the 
proceedings  of  the  divorce,  and  our  respect  for  Katherine 
heightened  by  the  general  sympathy  for  "  the  good  queen/' 
as  she  is  expressively  entitled,  and  by  the  following  beautiful 
eulogium  on  her  character  uttered  by  the  Duke  of  Norfolk : 


26  KING  HENRY  VIIL 

He  (Wolsey)  counsels  a  divorce  :  a  loss  of  her 
That  like  a  jewel  has  hung  twenty  years 
About  his  neck,  yet  never  lost  her  lustre. 
Of  her  that  loves  him  with  that  excellence 
That  angels  love  good  men  with  ;  even  of  her, 
That  when  the  greatest  stroke  of  fortune  falls, 
Will  bless  the  king  ! 

The  scene  in  which  Anna  Bullen  is  introduced  as  express 
ing  her  grief  and  sympathy  for  her  royal  mistress  is  exqui 
sitely  graceful. 

Here  's  the  pang  that  pinches  • 
His  highness  having  liv'd  so  long  with  her.  and  she 
So  good  a  lady,  that  no  tongue  could  ever 
Pronounce  dishonour  of  her, — by  my  Hfe 
She  never  knew  harm-doing  ; — O  now,  after 
So  many  courses  of  the  sun  enthron'd, 
Still  growing  in  a  majesty  and  pomp,  the  which 
To  leave,  a  thousand  fold  more  bitter  than 
'T  is  sweet  at  first  t'  acquire, — after  this  process, 
To  give  her  the  avaunt !  it  is  a  pity 
Would  move  a  monster. 

Old  Lady.  Hearts  of  most  hard  temper 

Melt  and  lament  for  her. 

Anne.  O,  God's  will !  much  better 

She  ne'er  had  known  pomp  :  though  it  be  temporal, 
Yet  if  that  quarrel,  Fortune,  do  divorce 
It  from  the  bearer,  't  is  a  sufferance  panging 
As  soul  and  body's  severing. 

Old  Lady.  Alas,  poor  lady ! 

She  's  a  stranger  now  again. 

Anne.  So  much  the  more 

Must  pity  drop  upon  her.     Verily, 
I  swear 't  is  better  to  be  lowly  born, 
And  range  with  humble  livers  in  content, 
Than  to  be  perk'd  up  in  a  glistering  grief, 
And  wear  a  golden  sorrow. 

How  completely,  in  the  few  passages  appropriated  to  Anna 
Bullen,  is  her  character  portrayed  ?  with  what  a  delicate  and 
yet  luxuriant  grace  is  she  sketched  off,  with  her  gayety  and 
her  beauty,  her  levity,  her  extreme  mobility,  her  sweetness  of 


INTRODUCTION.  27 

disposition,  her  tenderness  of  heart,  and,  in  short,  all  her/<:- 
mahties  /  How  nobly  has  Shakespeare  done  justice  to  the 
two  women,  and  heightened  our  interest  in  both  by  placing 
the  praises  of  Katherine  in  the  mouth  of  Anna  Bullen !  and 
how  characteristic  of  the  latter,  that  she  should  first  express 
unbounded  pity  for  her  mistress,  insisting  chiefly  on  her  fall 
from  her  regal  state  and  worldly  pomp,  thus  betraying  her 
own  disposition  : 

For  she  that  had  all  the  fair  parts  of  woman, 
Had,  too,  a  woman's  heart,  which  ever  yet 
Affected  eminence,  wealth,  sovereignty. 

That  she  should  call  the  loss  of  temporal  pomp,  once  en- 
joyed, "  a  sufferance  equal  to  soul  and  body's  severing ;"  that 
she  should  immediately  protest  that  she  would  not  herself  be 
a  queen — "  No,  good  troth !  not  for  all  the  riches  under  heav- 
en !" — and  not  long  afterwards  ascend  without  reluctance  that 
throne  and  bed  from  which  her  royal  mistress  had  been  so 
cruelly  divorced ! — how  natural !  The  portrait  is  not  less 
true  and  masterly  than  that  of  Katherine  ;  but  the  character 
is  overborne  by  the  superior  moral  firmness  and  intrinsic  ex- 
cellence of  the  latter.  That  we  may  be  more  fully  sensible 
of  this  contrast,  the  beautiful  scene  just  alluded  to  immediate- 
ly precedes  Katherine's  trial  at  Blackfriars,  and  the  descrip- 
tion of  Anna  Bullen's  triumphant  beauty  at  her  coronation 
is  placed  immediately  before-  the  dying  scene  of  Katherine ; 
yet  with  equal  good  taste  and  good  feeling  Shakespeare  has 
constantly  avoided  all  personal  collision  between  the  two 
characters ;  nor  does  Anna  Bullen  ever  appear  as  queen  ex- 
cept in  the  pageant  of  the  procession,  which  in  reading  the 
play  is  scarcely  noticed. 

To  return  to  Katherine.  The  whole  of  the  trial  scene  is 
given  nearly  verbatim  from  the  old  chronicles  and  records ; 
but  the  dryness  and  harshness  of  the  law  proceedings  is  tem- 
pered at  once  and  elevated  by  the  genius  and  the  wisdom  of 
the  poet.  It  appears,  on  referring  to  the  historical  author!- 


28  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

ties,  that  when  the  affair  was  first  agitated  in  council,  Kath- 
erine  replied  to  the  long  expositions  and  theological  sophis- 
tries of  her  opponents  with  resolute  simplicity  and  compo- 
sure :  "  I  am  a  woman,  and  lack  wit  and  learning  to  answer 
these  opinions ;  but  I  am  sure  that  neither  the  king's  father 
nor  my  father  would  have  condescended  to  our  marriage  if  it 
had  been  judged  unlawful.  As  to  your  saying  that  I  should 
put  the  cause  to  eight  persons  of  this  realm,  for  quietness  of 
the  king's  conscience,  I  pray  Heaven  to  send  his  grace  a  quiet 
conscience  ;  and  this  shall  be  your  answer,  that  I  say  I  am 
his  lawful  wife,  and  to  him  lawfully  married,  though  not  wor- 
thy of  it ;  and  m  this  point  I  will  abide,  till  the  court  of  Rome, 
which  was  privy  to  the  beginning,  have  made  a  final  ending 
of  it."* 

Katherine's  appearance  in  the  court  at  Blackfriars,  attend- 
ed by  a  noble  troop  of  ladies  and  prelates  of  her  counsel,  and 
her  refusal  to  answer  the  citation,  are  historical.!  Her  speech 
to  the  king — 

Sir,  I  desire  you  do  me  right  and  justice, 
And  to  bestow  your  pity  on  me,  etc. — 

is  taken  word  for  word  (as  nearly  as  the  change  from  prose 
to  blank  verse  would  allow)  from  the  old  record  in  Hall.  It 
would  have  been  easy  for  Shakespeare  to  have  exalted  his 
own  skill  by  throwing  a  colouring  of  poetry  and  eloquence 
into  this  speech,  without  altering'the  sense  or  sentiment ;  but 
by  adhering  to  the  calm  argumentative  simplicity  of  manner 
and  diction  natural  to  the  woman,  he  has  preserved  the  truth 

*  Hall's  Chronicle,  p.  781. 

t  The  court  at  Blackfriars  sat  on  the  28th  of  May,  1529.  "The  queen 
being  called,  accompanied  by  the  four  bishops  and  others  of  her  counsel, 
and  a  great  company  of  ladies  and  gentlewomen  following  her  ;  and  after 
icr  obeisance,  sadly  and  with  great  gravity,  she  appealed  from  them  to 
the  court  of  Rome." — Sec  Hall  and  Cavendish's  Life  of  Wolsey. 

The  account  which  Hume  gives  of  this  scene  is  very  elegant ;  but  aftei 
the  affecting  naiveti  of  the  old  chroniclers,  it  is  very  cold  and  unsatisfac- 
tory. 


JNTRODUCTION. 


29 


of  character  without  lessening  the  pathos  of  the  situation. 
Her  challenging  Wolsey  as  a  "  foe  to  truth,"  and  her  very  ex- 
pressions, "  I  utterly  refuse, — yea,  from  my  soul  abhor  you  for 
my  judge,"  are  taken  from  fact.  The  sudden  burst  of  indig- 
nant passion  towards  the  close  of  this  scene, 

In  one.  who  ever  yet 

Had  stood  to  charity,  and  displayed  the  effects 
Of  disposition  gentle,  and  of  wisdom 
O'ertopping  woman's  power ; 

is  taken  from  nature,  though  it  occurred  on  a  different  occa- 
sion.* 

Lastly,  the  circumstance  of  her  being  called  back  after  she 
had  appealed  from  the  court,  and  angrily  refusing  to  return, 
is  from  the  life.  Master  Griffith,  on  whose  arm  she  leaned, 
observed  that  she  was  called:  "On,  on,"  quoth  she;  "it 
maketh  no  matter,  for  it  is  no  indifferent  court  for  me,  there- 
fore I  will  not  tarry.  Go  on  your  ways."f 

King  Henry's  own  assertion,  "  I  dare  to  say,  my  lords,  that 
for  her  womanhood,  wisdom,  nobility,  and  gentleness,  never 
prince  had  such  another  wife,  and  therefore  if  I  would  wil- 
lingly change  her  I  were  not  wise,"  is  thus  beautifully  para-' 
phrased  by  Shakespeare  : — 

That  man  i'  th'  world,  who  shall  report  he  has 
A  better  wife,  let  him  in  naught  be  trusted, 
For  speaking  false  in  that  !     Thou  art,  alone 
(If  thy  rare  qualities,  sweet  gentleness, 
Thy  meekness  saint-like,  wife-like  govsrnment, 
Obeying  in  commanding,  and  thy  parts, 
Sovereign  and  pious  else,  could  speak  thee  out), 
The  queen  of  earthly  queens. — She  's  noble  born  ; 
And,  like  her  true  nobility,  she  has 
Carried  herself  towards  me. 

*  "  The  queen  answered  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  very  highly  and  obstinate- 
ly, with  many  high  words  :  and  suddenly,  in  a  fury,  she  departed  from  hira 
into  her  privy  chamber." — Vide  Hall's  Chronicle* 

t  Vide  Cavendish's  Life  of  Wolsey. 


^o  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

We  are  told  by  Cavendish,  that  when  Wolsey  and  Cam 
peggio  visited  the  queen  by  the  king's  order  she  was  found 
at  work  among  her  women,  and  came  forth  to  meet  the  cardi- 
nals with  a  skein  of  white  thread  hanging  about  her  neck  ; 
that  when  Wolsey  addressed  her  in  Latin,  she  interrupted  him, 
saying,  "Nay,  good  my  lord,  speak  to  me  in  English,  I  beseech 
you  •  although  I  understand  Latin."  "  Forsooth  then,"  quoth 
my  lord,  "madam,  if  it  please  your  grace,  we  come  both  to 
know  your  mind,  how  ye  be  disposed  to  do  in  this  matter  be- 
tween the  king  and  you,  and  also  to  declare  secretly  our  opin- 
ions and  our  counsel  unto  you,  which  we  have  intended  of 
very  zeal  and  obedience  that  we  bear  to  your  grace."  "  My 
lords,  I  thank  you  then,"  quoth  she,  "  of  your  good  wills  ;  but 
to  make  answer  to  your  request  I  cannot  so  suddenly,  for  I 
was  set  among  my  maidens  at  work,  thinking  full  little  of  any 
such  matter ;  wherein  there  needeth  a  longer  deliberation, 
and  a  better  head  than  mine  to  make  answer  to  so  noble  wise 
men  as  ye  be.  I  had  need  of  good  counsel  in  this  case, 
which  toucheth  me  so  near ;  and  for  any  counsel  or  friend- 
ship that  I  can  find  in  England,  they  are  nothing  to  my  pur- 
pose or  profit.  Think  you,  I  pray  you,  my  lords,  will  any 
Englishmen  counsel,  or  be  friendly  unto  me,  against  the  king's 
pleasure,  they  being  his  subjects  ?  Nay,  forsooth,  my  lords  ! 
and  for  my  counsel,  in  whom  I  do  intend  to  put  my  trust,  they 
be  not  here  ;  they  be  in  Spain,  in  my  native  country.*  Alas  ! 
my  lords,  I  am  a  poor  woman  lacking  both  wit  and  under- 
standing sufficiently  to  answer  such  approved  wise  men  as  ye 
be  both,  in  so  weighty  a  matter.  I  pray  you  to  extend  your 
good  and  indifferent  minds  in  your  authority  unto  me,  for  I 

*  This  affecting  passage  is  thus  rendered  by  Shakespeare  (iii.  I.)  :— 

Nay,  forsooth,  my  friends, 
They  that  must  weigh  out  my  afflictions, 
They  that  my  trust  must  grow  to,  live  not  here  : 
They  are,  as  all  my  other  comforts,  far  hence. 
In  mine  own  country,  lords. 


INTRODUCTION,  31 

am  a  simple  woman,  destitute  and  barren  of  friendship  and 
counsel,  here  in  a  foreign  region ;  and  as  for  your  counsel,  I 
will  not  refuse,  but  be  glad  to  hear." 

It  appears,  also,  that  when  the  Archbishop  of  York  and 
Bishop  Tunstall  waited  on  her  at  her  house  near  Huntingdon; 
with  the  sentence  of  the  divorce,  signed  by  Henry,  and  con- 
firmed by  an  act  of  Parliament,  she  refused  to  admit  its  valid- 
ity, she  being  Henry's  wife,  and  not  his'  subject.  The  bishop 
describes  her  conduct  in  his  letter :  "  She  being  therewith  in 
great  choler  and  agony,  and  always  interrupting  our  words, 
declared  that  she  would  never  leave  the  name  of  queen,  but 
would  persist  in  accounting  herself  the  king's  wife  till  death." 
When  the  official  letter  containing  minutes  of  their  conference 
was  shown  to  her,  she  seized  a  pen  and  dashed  it  angrily 
across  every  sentence  in  which  she  was  styled  Princess-dow- 
ager. 

If  now  we  turn  to  that  inimitable  scene  between  Katherine 
and  the  two  cardinals  (act  iii.  scene  i),  we  shall  observe  how 
finely  Shakespeare  has  condensed  these  incidents,  and  un- 
folded to  us  all  the  workings  of  Katherine's  proud  yet  femi- 
nine nature.  She  is  discovered  at  work  with  some  of  her 
women — she  calls  for  music  "  to  soothe  her  soul  grown  sad 
with  troubles" — then  follows  the  little  song,  of  which  the  sen- 
timent is  so  well  adapted  to  the  occasion,  while  its  quaint  yet 
classic  elegance  breathes  the  very  spirit  of  those  times  when 
Surrey  loved  and  sung.  They  are  interrupted  by  the  arrival 
of  the  two  cardinals.  Katherine's  perception  of  their  sub- 
tlety— her  suspicion  of  their  purpose— her  sense  of  her  own 
weakness  and  inability  to  contend  with  them,  and  her  mild 
subdued  dignity,  are  beautifully  represented  ;  as  also  the 
guarded  self-command  with  which  she  eludes  giving  a  de- 
finitive answer  ;  but  when  they  counsel  her  to  that  which 
she,  who  knows  Henry,  feels  must  end  in  her  ruin,  then  the 
native  temper  is  roused  at  once,  or,  to  use  Tunstall's  expres- 
sion, "the  choler  and  the  agony,"  burst  forth  in  words. 


32  KING  HENRY  YIIL 

Is  this  your  Christian  counsel  ?    Out  upon  ye  ! 
Heaven  is  above  all  yet ;  there  sits  a  Judge 
That  no  king  can  corrupt. 

Wolsey.  Your  rage  mistakes  us. 

Queen  {Catherine.  The  more  shame  for  ye  !     Holy  men  j 

thought  ye, 

Upon  my  soul,  two  reverend  cardinal  virtues  ; 
But  cardinal  sins,  and  hollow  hearts,  I  fear  ye  : 
Mend  'em,  for  shame,  my  lords.     Is  this  your  comfort, 
The  cordial  that  ye  bring  a  wretched  lady  ? 

With  the  same  force  of  language,  and  impetuous  yet  dign,- 
fied  feeling,  she  asserts  her  own  conjugal  truth  and  merit,  ana 
insists  upon  her  rights : 

Have  I  liv'd  thus  long  (let  me  speak  myself, 

Since  virtue  finds  no  friends),  a  wife,  a  true  one 

A  woman  (I  dare  say,  without  vain-glory) 

Never  yet  branded  with  suspicion  ? 

Have  I  with  all  my  full  affections 

Still  met  the  king  ?  lov'd  him  next  heaven  ?  obeyed  him  3 

Been,  out  of  fondness,  superstitious  to  him  ? 

Almost  forgot  my  prayers  to  content  him  ? 

And  am  I  thus  rewarded  ?  't  is  not  well,  lords,  etc. 

My  lord,  I  dare  not  make  myself  so  guilty, 
To  give  up  willingly  that  noble  title 
Your  master  wed  me  to  :  nothing  but  death 
Shall  e'er  divorce  my  dignities. 

And  this  burst  of  unwonted  passion  is  immediately  followed 
by  the  natural  reaction  ;  it  subsides  into  tears,  dejection,  and 
a  mournful  self-compassion: 

Would  I  had  never  trod  this  English  ground, 

Or  felt  the  flatteries  that  grow  upon  it ! 

What  will  become  of  me  now,  wretched  lady? 

I  am  the  most  unhappy  woman  living. — 

Alas,  poor  wenches,  where  are  now  your  fortunes  ? 

[  To  htr  women. 

Shipwracked  upon  a  kingdom  where  no  pity, 
No  friends,  no  hope,  no  kindred  weep  for  me  ! 
Almost  no  grave  allowed  me  ! — Like  the  lily. 


INTRODUCTION. 

That  once  was  mistress  of  the  field,  and  flourish'd, 
I  '11  hnng  my  head  and  perish. 


33 


Dr.  Johnson  observes  on  this  scene  that  all  Katherine's  dis- 
tresses could  not  save  her  from  a  quibble  on  the  word  car- 
dinal, 

Holy  men  I  thought  ye, 

Upon  my  soul,  two  reverend  cardinal  virtues ; 

But  cardinal  sins,  and  hollow  hearts,  I  fear  ye! 

When  we  read  this  passage  in  connection  with  the  situation 
and  sentiment,  the  scornful  play  upon  the  words  is  not  only 
appropriate  and  natural,  it  seems  inevitable.  Katherine,  as- 
suredly, is  neither  an  imaginative  nor  a  witty  personage ;  but 
we  all  acknowledge  the  truism  that  anger  inspires  wit,  and 
whenever  there  is  passion  there  is  poetry.  In  the  instance 
just  alluded  to,  the  sarcasm  springs  naturally  out  from  the  bit- 
ter indignation  of  the  moment.  In  her  grand  rebuke  of  Wol- 
sey,  in  the  trial  scene,  how  just  and  beautiful  is  the  gradual 
elevation  of  her  language,  till  it  rises  into  that  magnificent 

image  — 

You  have  by  fortune  and  his  highness'  favours, 
Gone  slightly  o'er  low  steps,  and  now  are  mounted, 
Where  powers  are  your  retainers,  etc. 

In  the  depth  of  her  affliction,  the  pathos  as  naturally  clothes 

itself  in  poetry. 

Like  the  lily, 

That  once  was  mistress  of  the  field,  and  flourish'd, 

I  '11  hang  my  head  and  perish. 

But  these,  I  believe,  are  the  only  instances  of  imagery  through  • 
out;  for,  in  general,  her  language  is  plain  and  energetic.  It 
has  the  strength  and  simplicity  of  her  character,  with  very  lit- 
tle metaphor  and  less  wit. 

In  approaching  the  last  scene  of  Katherine's  life,  I  feel  as 
if  about  to  tread  within  a  sanctuary  where  nothing  befits  us 
but  silence  and  tears ;  veneration  so  strives  with  compassion, 
tenderness  with  awe.* 

*  Dr.  Johnson  is  of  opinion  that  this  scene  "  is  above  any  other  part  of 


34  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

We  must  suppose  a  long  interval  to  have  elapsed  since 
^Catherine's  interview  with  the  two  cardinals.  Wolsey  was 
disgraced,  and  poor  Anna  Bullen  at  the  height  of  her  short 
lived  prosperity.  It  was  Wolsey 's  fate  to  be  detested  by  both 
queens.  In  the  pursuance  of  his  own  selfish  and  ambitious 
designs,  he  had  treated  both  with  perfidy ;  and  one  was  the 
remote,  the  other  the  immediate  cause  of  his  ruin.* 

The  ruffian  king,  of  whom  one  hates  to  think,  was  bent  on 
forcing  Katherine  to  concede  her  rights,  and  illegitimize  her 
daughter,  in  favor  of  the  offspring  of  Anna  Bullen  :  she  stead- 
ily refused,  was  declared  contumacious,  and  the  sentence  of 
divorce  pronounced  in  1533.  Such  of  her  attendants  as  per- 
sisted in  paying  her  the  honours  due  to  a  queen  were  driven 
from  her  household ;  those  who  consented  to  serve  her  as 
princess-dowager  she  refused  to  admit  into  her  presence ;  so 

Shakespeare's  tragedies,  and  perhaps  above  any  scene  of  any  other  poec, 
tender  and  pathetic ;  without  gods,  or  furies,  or  poisons,  or  precipices  ; 
without  the  help  of  romantic  circumstances  ;  without  improbable  sallies 
of  poetical  lamentation,  and  without  any  throes  of  tumultuous  misery." 

I  have  already  observed  that,  in  judging  of  Shakespeare's  characters  as 
of  persons  we  meet  in  real  life,  we  are  swayed  unconsciously  by  our  own 
habits  and  feelings,  and  our  preference  governed,  more  or  less,  by  our 
individual  prejudices  or  sympathies.  Thus  Dr.  Johnson,  who  has  not  a 
word  to  bestow  on  Imogen,  and  who  has  treated  poor  Juliet  as  if  she  had 
been  in  truth  "  the  very  beadle  to  an  amorous  sigh,"  does  full  justice  to 
the  character  of  Katherine,  because  the  logical  turn  of  his  mind,  his  vig- 
orous intellect,  and  his  austere  integrity,  enabled  him  to  appreciate  its 
peculiar  beauties  ;  and,  accordingly,  we  find  that  he  gives  it,  not  only  un- 
qualified, but  almost  exclusive  admiration :  he  goes  so  far  as  to  assert 
that  in  this  play  the  genius  of  Shakespeare  comes  in  and  goes  out  with 
Katherine. 

*  It  will  be  remembered  that  in  early  youth  Anna  Bullen  was  betrothed 
to  Lord  Henry  Percy,  who  was  passionately  in  love  with  her.  Wolsey,  to 
serve  the  king's  purposes,  broke  off  this  match,  and  forced  Percy  into  an 
unwilling  marriage  with  Lady  Mary  Talbot.  "  The  stout  Earl  of  North- 
umberland," who  arrested  Wolsey  at  York,  was  this  very  Percy:  he  was 
chosen  for  his  mission  by  the  interference  of  Anna  Bullen — a  piece  of 
vengeance  truly  feminine  in  its  mixture  of  sentiment  and  spitefulness 
and  every  way  characteristic  of  the  individual  woman. 


WTRODVCTlOfT.  35 

that  she  remained  unattended  except  by  a  few  women,  and  her 
gentleman  usher,  Griffith.  During  the  last  eighteen  months 
of  her  life  she  resided  at  Kimbolton.  Her  nephew,  Charles 
V.,  had  offered  her  an  asylum  and  princely  treatment ;  but 
Katherine,  broken  in  heart  and  declining  in  health,  was  un- 
willing to  drag  the  spectacle  of  her  misery  and  degradation 
into  a  strange  country:  she  pined  in  her  loneliness,  deprived 
of  her  daughter,  receiving  no  consolation  from  the  pope,  and 
no  redress  from  the  emperor.  Wounded  pride,  wronged  af- 
fection, and  a  cankering  jealousy  of  the  woman  preferred  to 
her  (which,  though  it  never  broke  out  into  unseemly  words, 
is  enumerated  as  one  of  the  causes  of  her  death),  at  length 
wore  out  a  feeble  frame.  "Thus,"  says  the  chronicle,  "  Queen 
Katherine  fell  into  her  last  sickness ;  and  though  the  king 
sent  to  comfort  her  through  Chapuys,  the  emperor's  ambas- 
sador, she  grew  worse  and  worse ;  and  finding  death  now 
coming,  she  caused  a  maid  attending  on  her  to  write  to  the 
king  to  this  effect : — 

"  My  most  dear  Lord,  King,  and  Husband  : — 
"The  hour  of  my  death  now  approaching,  I  cannot  choose 
but,  out  of  the  love  I  bear  you,  advise  you  of  your  soul's 
health,  which  you  ought  to  prefer  before  all  considerations  of 
the  world  or  flesh  whatsoever ;  for  which  yet  you  have  cast 
me  into  many  calamities,  and  yourself  into  many  troubles : 
but  I  forgive  you  all,  and  pray  God  to  do  so  likewise  ;  for  the 
rest,  I  commend  unto  you  Mary  our  daughter,  beseeching  you 
to  be  a  good  father  to  her,  as  I  have  heretofore  desired.  I 
must  intreat  you  also  to  respect  my  maids,  and  give  them  in 
marriage,  which  is  not  much,  they  being  but  three,  and  all  my 
other  servants  a  year's  pay  besides  their  due,  lest  otherwise 
they  be  unprovided  for:  lastly,  I  make  this  vow,  that  mine 
eyes  desire  you  above  all  things. — Farewell  !"* 

*  The  king  is  said  to  have  wept  on  reading  this  letter,  and  her  body 
being  interred  at  Peterbro',  in  the  monastery,  for  honour  of  her  memory 


3  6  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

She  also  wrote  another  letter  to  the  ambassador,  desiring 
that  he  would  remind  the  king  of  her  dying  request,  and  urge 
him  to  do  her  this  last  right. 

What  the  historian  relates,  Shakespeare  realizes.  On  the 
wonderful  beauty  of  Katherine's  closing  scene  we  need  not 
dwell,  for  that  requires  no  illustration.  In  transferring  the 
sentiments  of  her  letter  to  her  lips,  Shakespeare  has  given 
them  added  grace,  and  pathos,  and  tenderness,  without  injur- 
ing their  truth  and  simplicity :  the  feelings,  and  almost  the 
manner  of  expression,  are  Katherine's  own.  The  severe  jus- 
tice with  which  she  draws  the  character  of  Wolsey  is  extreme- 
ly characteristic ;  the  benign  candour  with  which  she  listens 
to  the  praise  of  him  "  whom  living  she  most  hated,"  is  not  less 
so.  How  beautiful  her  religious  enthusiasm  ! — the  slumber 
which  visits  her  pillow,  as  she  listens  to  that  sad  music  she 
called  her  knell ;  her  awakening  from  the  vision  of  celestial 
joy  to  find  herself  still  on  earth — 

Spirits  of  peace  !  where  are  ye  ?    Are  ye  all  gone, 
And  leave  me  here  in  wretchedness  behind  ye  ? — 

how  unspeakably  beautiful !  And  to  consummate  all  in  one 
final  touch  of  truth  and  nature,  we  see  that  consciousness  of 
her  own  worth  and  integrity  which  had  sustained  her  through 
all  her  trials  of  heart,  and  that  pride  of  station  for  which  she 
had  contended  through  long  years, — which  had  become  more 
dear  by  opposition,  and  by  the  perseverance  with  which  she 
had  asserted  it, — remaining  the  last  strong  feeling  upon  her 
mind,  to  the  very  last  hour  of  existence. 

When  I  am  dead,  good  wench, 
Let  me  be  used  with  honour :  strew  me  over 
With  maiden  flowers,  that  all  the  world  may  know 
I  was  a  chaste  wife  to  my  grave  ;  embalm  me, 
Then  lay  me  forth  :  although  unqueen'd,  yet  like 
A  queen,  and  daughter  to  a  king,  inter  me. 
I  can  no  more. 

it  was  preserved  at  the  dissolution,  and  erected  into  a  bishop's  see.-* 
Herbert's  Life  of  Henry  VIII. 


IN  TROD  i  'CTION.  3  7 

In  the  epilogue  to  this  play  it  is  recommended 
To  the  merciful  construction  of  good  women, 
For  such  a  one  we  shewed  'em  : 

alluding  to  the  character  of  Queen  Katherine.  Shakespeare 
has,  in  fact,  placed  before  us  a  queen  and  a  heroine,  who  in 
the  first  place,  and  above  all,  is  a  good  woman  ;  and  I  repeat, 
that  in  doing  so,  and  in  trusting  for  all  his  effect  to  truth  and 
virtue,  he  has  given  a  sublime  proof  of  his  genius  and  his  wis 
dom  ; — for  which,  among  many  other  obligations,  we  women 
remain  his  debtors. 

[Front  Hazlitfs  "  Characters  of  Shake  spear  "  *\ 
This  play  contains  little  action  or  violence  of  passion,  yet 
it  has  considerable  interest  of  a  more  mild  and  thoughtful 
cast,  and  some  of  the  most  striking  passages  in  the  author's 
works.  The  character  of  Queen  Katherine  is  the  most  per- 
fect delineation  of  matronly  dignity,  sweetness,  and  resigna 
tion  that  can  be  conceived.  Her  appeals  to  the  protection 
of  the  king,  her  remonstrances  to  the  cardinals,  her  conver 
sations  with  her  women,  show  a  noble  and  generous  spirit, 
accompanied  with  the  utmost  gentleness  of  nature.  What 
can  be  more  affecting  than  her  answer  to  Campeius  and  Wol 
sey,  who  come  to  visit  her  as  pretended  friends  ? — 

"  Nay,  forsooth,  my  friends, 
They  that  must  weigh  out  my  afflictions, 
They  that  my  trust  must  grow  to,  live  not  here ; 
They  are,  as  all  my  other  comforts,  far  hence, 
In  mine  own  country,  lords." 

Dr.  Johnson  observes  of  this  play  that  "the  meek  sorrows 
and  virtuous  distress  of  Katherine  have  furnished  some 
scenes  which  may  be  justly  numbered  among  the  greatest 
efforts  of  tragedy.  But  the  genius  of  Shakespear  comes  in 
and  goes  out  with  Katherine.  Every  other  part  may  be 
easily  conceived  and  easily  written."  This  is  easily  said  ; 
*  W.  Carew  Hazlitt's  ed.  (London,  1870),  p.  167  fol. 


38  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

but,  with  all  due  deference  to  so  great  a  reputed  authority 
as  that  of  Johnson,  it  is  not  true.  For  instance,  the  scent 
of  Buckingham  led  to  execution  is  one  of  the  most  affecting 
and  natural  in  Shakespear,  and  to  which  there  is  hardly 
an  approach  in  any  other  author.  Again,  the  character  of 
Wolsey,  the  description  of  his  pride  and  fall,  are  inimitable, 
and  have,  besides  their  gorgeousness  of  effect,  a  pathos  which 
only  the  genius  of  Shakespear  could  lend  to  the  distresses 
of  a  proud,  bad  man,  like  Wolsey.  There  is  a  sort  of  child- 
like simplicity  in  the  very  helplessness  of  his  situation,  aris- 
ing from  the  recollection  of  his  past  overbearing  ambition. 
After  the  cutting  sarcasms  of  his  enemies  on  his  disgrace, 
against  which  he  bears  up  with  a  spirit  conscious  of  his  own 
superiority,  he  breaks  out  into  that  fine  apostrophe,  "  Fare- 
well, a  long  farewell  to  all  my  greatness !"  etc.  There  is  in 
this  passage',  as  well  as  in  the  well-known  dialogue  with 
Cromwell  which  follows,  something  which  stretches  beyond 
commonplace ;  nor  is  the  account  which  Griffith  gives  of 
Wolsey's  death  less  Shakespearian  ;  and  the  candour  with 
which  Queen  Katherine  listens  to  the  praise  of  "  him  whom 
I  most  hated  living,"  adds  the  last  graceful  finishing  to  her 
character.  . 

[From  Knighfs  Comments  on  the  Play*~\ 

u  I  come  no  more  to  make  you  laugh  ;  things  now 
That  bear  a  weighty  and  a  serious  brow, 
Sad,  high,  and  working,  full  of  state  and  woe, 
Such  noble  scenes  as  draw  the  eye  to  flow, 
We  now  present." 

This  is  the  commencement  of  the  most  remarkable  Pro- 
logue of  the  few  which  are  attached  to  Shakspere's  plays. 
It  is,  to  our  minds,  a  perfect  exposition  of  the  principle-upon 
which  the  poet  worked  in  the  construction  of  this  drama. 
Believing,  whatever  weight  of  authority  there  may  be  for  the 
contrary  opinion,  that  the  Henry  VIII.  was  a  new  play  in 
*  Pictorial  Edition  of  Shakspere:  Histories,  vol.  ii.,  p.  394  foil. 


INTRODUCTION.  39 

1613,  there  had  been  a  considerable  interval  between  its 
production  and  that  of  Henry  K,  the  last  in  the  order  of 
representation  of  his  previous  Histories.  During  that  in- 
terval several  of  the  poet's  most  admirable  comedies  had 
been  unquestionably  produced;  and  the  audience  of  1613 
was  perhaps  still  revelling  in  the  recollections  of  the  wit 
of  Touchstone  or  the  more  recent  whimsies  of  Autolycus. 
But  the  poet,  who  was  equally  master  of  the  tears  and  the 
smiles  of  his  audience,  prepares  them  for  a  serious  view  of 
the  aspects  of  real  life — "  I  come  no  more  to  make  you  laugh." 
He  thought,  too,  that  the  popular  desire  for  noisy  combats, 
and  the  unavoidable  deficiencies  of  the  stage  in  the  repre- 
sentation of  battle-scenes — he  had  before  described  it  as  an 
"  unworthy  scaffold"  for  "  vasty  fields" — might  be  passingly 
adverted  to ;  and  that  the  clowns  of  the  same  stage,  whom 
he  had  indeed  reformed,  but  who  still  delighted  the  "  ears 
of  the  groundlings"  with  their  extemporal  rudeness,  might 
be  slightly  renounced.  He  disclaimed,  then,  "  both  fool  and 
fight ;"  these  were  not  among  the  attractions  of  this  work 
of  his  maturer  age.  He  had  to  offer  weighty  and  serious 
things ;  sad  and  high  things ;  noble  scenes  that  commanded 
tears ;  state  and  woe  were  to  be  exhibited  together ;  there 
was  to  be  pageantry,  but  it  was  to  be  full  of  pity ;  and  the 
woe  was  to  be  the  more  intense  from  its  truth.  And  how 
did  this  master  of  his  art  profess  to  be  able  to  produce  such 
deep  emotion  from  (he  exhibition  of  scenes  that  almost  came 
down  to  his  own  times  ;  that  the  fathers  and  grandfathers  of 
his  audience  had  witnessed  in  their  unpoetical  reality ;  that 
belonged,  not  to  the  period  when  the  sword  was  the  sole  ar- 
biter of  the  destinies  of  princes  and  favourites,  but  when  men 
fell  by  intrigue  and  not  by  battle,  and  even  the  axe  of  the 
capricious  despot  struck  in  the  name  of  the  law  ?  There 
was  another  great  poet  of  this  age  of  high  poetry  who  had 
indicated  .the  general  theme  which  Shakspere  proposed  to 
illustrate  in  this  drama : 


4o  KING  HENRY   VIII. 

"  What  man  that  sees  the  ever- whirl  ing  wheele 
Of  change,  the  which  all  mortall  things  doth  sway, 
But  that  therby  doth  find,  and  plainly  feele, 
How  MUTABILITY  in  them  doth  play 
Her  cruell  sports  to  many  mens  decay?  "  * 

From  the  first  scene  to  the  last,  the  dramatic  action  seems 
to  'point  to  the  abiding  presence  of  that  power  which  works 
"  her  cruel  sports  to  many  men's  decay."  We  see  "  the  ever- 
whirling  wheel "  in  a  succession  of  contrasts  of  grandeur  and 
debasement;  and,  even  when  the  action  is  closed,  we  are 
carried  forward  into  the  depths  of  the  future,  to  have  the 
same  triumph  of  "  mutability  "  suggested  to  our  contempla- 
tion. This  is  the  theme  which  the  poet  emphatically  pre- 
sents to  us  under  its  aspect  of  sadness : 

"  Be  sad  as  we  would  make  ye.     Think  ye  see 
The  very  persons  of  our  noble  story, 
As  they  were  living ;   think  you  see  them  great, 
And  follow'4  with  the  general  throng  and  sweat 
Of  thousand  friends ;  then  in  a  moment  see 
How  soon  this  mightiness  meets  misery." 

[Front  Dowderfs  "  Shakspere  Primer." 'f] 

A  German  critic  (Hertzberg)  has  described  Henry  VIIL 
as  "  a  chronicle-history  with  three  and  a  half  catastrophes, 
varied  by  a  marriage  and  a  coronation  pageant,  ending 
abruptly  with  the  baptism  of  a  child."  It  is  indeed  inco- 
herent in  structure.  After  all  our  sympathies  have  been 
engaged  upon  the  side  of  the  wronged  Queen  Katherine,  we 
are  called  upon  to  rejoice  in  the  marriage  triumph  of  her 
rival,  Anne  Bullen.  "The  greater  part  of  the  fifth  act,  in 
which  the  interest  ought  to  be  gathering  to  a  head,  is  occu- 
pied with  matters  in  which  we  have  not  been  prepared  to 
take  any  interest  by  what  went  before,  and  on  which  no  in- 

*  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene  :  Two  Cantos  of  Mutabilitie. 
t  Literature  Primers:  Shaksperet\*y  Edward  Dowden,  LL.D.  (London, 
1878),  p.  154  fol. 


1NTK  OD  UC  77  ON.  4 1 

terest  is  reflected  by  what  comes  after."  But  viewed  from 
another  side,  that  of  its  metrical  workmanship,  the  play  is 
equally  deficient  in  unity,  and  indeed  betrays  unmistakably 
the  presence  of  two  writers.  Fletcher's  verse  had  certain 
strongly  marked  characteristics,  one  of  which  is  the  very  fre- 
quent recurrence  of  double  endings.  A  portion  of  Henry 
VIII.  is  written  in  the  verse  of  Fletcher,  and  a  portion  as 
certainly  in  Shakspere's  verse.  .  .  . 

There  are  three  great  figures  in  the  play  clearly  and 
strongly  conceived  by  Shakspere  :  the  King,  Queen  Kath- 
erine,  and  Cardinal  Wolsey.  The  Queen  is  one  of  the  noble, 
long-enduring  sufferers,  just-minded,  disinterested,  truly  char- 
itable, who  give  their  moral  gravity  and  grandeur  to  Shak- 
spere's last  plays.  She  has  clear-sighted  penetration  to  see 
through  the  Cardinal's  cunning  practice,  and  a  lofty  indigna- 
tion against  what  is  base,  but  no  unworthy  personal  resent- 
ment. Henry,  if  we  judge  him  sternly,  is  cruel  and  self- 
indulgent  ;  but  Shakspere  will  hardly  allow  us  to  judge 
Henry  sternly.  He  is  a  lordly  figure,  with  a  full,  abounding 
strength  of  nature,  a  self-confidence,  an  ease  and  mastery  of 
life,  a  power  of  effortless  sway,  and  seems  born  to  pass  on 
in  triumph  over  those  who  have  fallen  and  are  afflicted. 
Wolsey  is  drawn  with  superb  power :  ambition,  fraud,  vin- 
dictiveness,  have  made  him  their  own,  yet  cannot  quite  ruin 
a  nature  possessed  of  noble  qualities.  It  is  hard  at  first  to 
refuse  to  Shakspere  the  authorship  of  Wolsey's  famous  solil- 
oquy in  which  he  bids  his  greatness  farewell  ;  but  it  is  cer- 
tainly Fletcher's,  and  when  one  has  perceived  this,  one 
perceives  also  that  it  was  an  error  ever  to  suppose  it  written 
in  Shakspere's  manner.  The  scene  in  which  the  vision  ap- 
pears to  the  dying  Queen  is  also  Fletcher's,  and  in  his  highest 
style.  We  can  see  from  the  play  that  if  Shakspere  had  re- 
turned at  the  age  of  fifty  to  the  historical  drama,  the  works 
written  then  would  have  been  greater  in  moral  grandeur 
than  those  written  from  his  thirtieth  to  his  thirty-fifth  years. 


KING     HENRY    THE     EIGHTH. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS, 

KING  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 
CARDINAL  WOLSEY. 
CARDINAL  CAMPEIUS. 
CAPUCIUS,  Ambassador  from  Charles  V. 
CRANMER,  Archbishop  ot  Canterbury. 
DUKE  OF  NORFOLK. 
DUKE  OF  BUCKINGHAM. 
DUKE  OF  SUFFOLK. 
EARL  OF  SURREY. 
Lord  Chamberlain. 
Lord  Chancellor. 

GARDINER,  Bishop  of  Winchester. 
Bishop  of  Lincoln. 
LORD  ABERGAVENNY. 
LORD  SANDS. 
Sir  HENRY  GUILDFOKD. 
Sir  THOMAS  LOVELL. 
Sir  ANTHONY  DENNY. 
Sir  NICHOLAS  VAUX. 
Secretaries  to  Wolsey. 
CROMWELL,  Servant  to  Wolsey. 
GRIFFITH,  Gentleman  Usher  io  Queen  Katnerine. 
Three  other  Gentlemen      Garter  King  at  Arms 
Doctor  BUTTS,  Physicfon  to  the  King 
Surveyor  to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
BRANDON,  and  a  Sergeant  at  Arms. 

Door-keeper  of  the   Council   Chamber.      Porter  and  his    Man 
Page  to  Gardiner.     A  Crier. 

QUEEN  KATHEKINE,  Wife  to  King  Henry. 

ANNE  BULLEN,  her  Maid  of  Honour,  afterward  Queen. 

An  old  Lady,  Friend  to  Anne  Bullen. 

PATIENCE,  Woman  to  Queen  Katherine. 

Several  Lords  and  Ladies  in  the  Dumb  Shows;  Women  at- 
tending upon  the  Queen;  Spirits,  which  appear  to  her; 
Scribes,  Officers,  Guards,  and  other  Attendants. 

SCENE  :   Chiefly  in  London  and  Westminster;  once  at  Kimbolton 


THE   TOWER    I  ROM    THE    THAMES. 


PROLOGUE. 

I  COME  no  more  to  make  you  laugh  :  things  now 
That  bear  a  weighty  and  a  serious  brow, 
Sad,  high,  and  working,  full  of  state  and  woe, 
Such  noble  scenes  as  draw  the  eye  to  flow, 
We  now  present.     Those  that  can  pity,  here 
May,  if  they  think  it  well,  let  fall  a  tear  ; 
The  subject  will  deserve  it     Such  as  give 


46  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

Their  money  out  of  hope  they  may  believe, 

May  here  find  truth  too.     Those  that  come  to  see 

Only  a  show  or  two,  and  so  agree 

The  play  may  pass,  if  they  be  still  and  willing, 

I  '11  undertake  may  see  away  their  shilling 

Richly  in  two  short  hours.     Only  they 

That  come  to'  hear  a  merry,  bawdy  play, 

A  noise  of  targets,  or  to  see  a  fellow 

In  a  long  motley  coat,  guarded  with  yellow, 

Will  be  deceiv'd  ;  for,  gentle  hearers,  know, 

To  rank  our  chosen  truth  with  such  a  show 

As  fool  and  fight  is,  beside  forfeiting 

Our  own  brains  and  the  opinion  that  we  bring —  *> 

To  make  that  only  true  we  now 'intend— 

Will  leave  us  never  an  understanding  friend. 

Therefore,  for  goodness'  sake,  and  as  you  are  knowr. 

The  first  and  happiest  hearers  of  the  town, 

Be  sad  as  we  would  make  ye  :  think  ye  see 

The  very  persons  of  our  noble  story 

As  they  were  living ;  think  you  see  them  great, 

And  follow'd  with  the  general  throng  and  sweat 

Of  thousand  friends  ;  then,  in  a  moment,  see 

How  soon  this  mightiness  meets  misery :  3o 

And  if  you  can  be  merry  then,  I  '11  say 

A  man  may  weep  upon  his  wedding  day. 


PRESENCE-CHAMBER   IN  YORK -PLACE. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.     London.     An  Ante-chamber  in  the  Palact. 

Enter  the  DUKE  OF  NORFOLK  at  one  door ;  at  the  other,  the 

DUKE  OF  BUCKINGHAM  and  the  LORD  ABERGAVENNY. 

Buckingham.   Good  morrow,  and  well  met.      How  have 

ye  done 
Since  last  we  saw  in  France  ? 


48  KING  HENRY  VIIL 

Norfolk.  I  thank  your  grace, 

Healthful ;  and  ever  since  a  fresh  admirer 
Of  what  I  saw  there. 

Buckingham.  An  untimely  ague 

Stay'd  me  a  prisoner  in  my  chamber  when 
Those  suns  of  glory,  those  two  lights  of  men, 
Met  in  the  vale  of  Andren. 

Norfolk.  'Twixt  Guynes  and  Arde. 

I  was  then  present,  saw  them  salute  on  horseback, 
Beheld  them  when  they  lighted,  how  they  clung 
In  their  embracement,  as  they  grew  together  ;  zo 

Which  had  they,  what  four  thron'd  ones  could  have  weigh'd 
Such  a  compounded  one  ? 

Buckingham.  All  the  whole  time 

I  was  my  chamber's  prisoner. 

Norfolk.  Then  you  lost 

The  view  of  earthly  glory;  men  might  say 
Till  this  time  pomp  was  single,  but  now  married 
To  one  above  itself.     Each  following  day 
Became  the  next  day's  master,  till  the  last 
Made  former  wonders  it's :  to-day  the  French, 
All  clinquant,  all  in  gold,  like  heathen  gods, 
Shone  down  the  English ;  and  to-morrow  they  ao 

Made  Britain  India:  every  man  that  stood 
Show'd  like  a  mine.     Their  dwarfish  pages  were 
As  cherubins,  all  gilt ;  the  madams  too, 
Not  us'd  to  toil,  did  almost  sweat  to  bear 
The  pride  upon  them,  that  their  very  labour 
Was  to  them  as  a  painting ;  now  this  mask 
Was  cried  incomparable,  and  the  ensuing  night 
Made  it  a  fool  and  beggar.     The  two  kings, 
Equal  in  lustre,  were  now  best,  now  worst, 
As  presence  did  present  them  :  him  in  eye,  •      30 

Still  him  in  praise  ;  and,  being  present  both, 
'T  was  said  they  saw  but  one,  and  no  discerner 


ACT  T.     SCKNE   I.  49 

Durst  wag  his  tongue  in  censure.     When  these  suns — 

For  so  they  phrase  'em— by  their  heralds  challeng'd 

The  noble  spirits  to  arms,  they  did  perform 

Beyond  thought's  compass ;  that  former  fabulous  story, 

Being  now  seen  possible  enough,  got  credit, 

That  Bevis  was  believ'd. 

Buckingham.  O,  you  go  far  ! 

Norfolk.  As  I  belong  to  worship  and  affect 
In  honour  honesty,  the  tract  of  every  thing  4<> 

Would  by  a  good  discourser  lose  some  life 
Which  action's  self  was  tongue  to.     All  was  royal : 
To  the  disposing  of  it  nought  rebell'd  ; 
Order  gave  each  thing  view  ;  the  office  did 
Distinctly  his  full  function. 

Buckingham.  Who  did  guide, 

I  mean,  who  set  the  body  and  the  limbs 
Of  this  great  sport  together,  as  you  guess? 

Norfolk.  One,  certes,  that  promises  no  element 
In  such  a  business. 

Buckingham.  I  pray  you,  who,  my  lord  ? 

Norfolk.   All  this  was  order'd  by  the  good  discretion        50 
Of  the  right  reverend  Cardinal  of  York. 

Buckingham.  The  devil  speed  him  !  no  man's  pie  is  freed 
From  his  ambitious  finger.     What  had  he 
To  do  in  these  fierce  vanities  ?     I  wonder 
That  such  a  keech  can  with  his  very  bulk 
Take  up  the  rays  o'  the  beneficial  sun, 
And  keep  it  from  the  earth. 

Norfolk.  Surely,  sir, 

There  's  in  him  stuff  that  puts  him  to  these  ends ; 
For,  being  not  propp'd  by  ancestry,  whose  grace 
Chalks  successors  their  way,  nor  call'd  upon  60 

For  high  feats  done  to  the  crown,  neither  allied 
To  eminent  assistants,  but,  spider-like, 
Out  of  his  self-drawing  web,  he  gives  us  note 

D 


5o  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

The  force  of  his  own  merit  makes  his  way ; 
A  gift  that  heaven  gives  for  him,  which  buys 
A  place  next  to  the  king. 

Abergavenny.  I  cannot  tell 

What  heaven  hath  given  him, — let  some  graver  eye 
Pierce  into  that ;  but  I  can  see  his  pride 
Peep  through  each  part  of  him :  whence  has  he  that? 
If  not  from  hell,  the  devil  is  a  niggard, 
Or  has  given  all  before,  and  he  begins 
A  new  hell  in  himself. 

Buckingham.  Why  the  devil, 

Upon  this  French  going-out,  took  he  upon  him, 
Without  the  privity  o'  the  king,  to  appoint 
Who  should  attend  on  him  ?     He  makes  up  the  file 
Of  all  the  gentry,  for  the  most  part  such 
To  whom  as  great  a  charge  as  little  honour 
He  meant  to  lay  upon  ;  and  his  own  letter, 
The  honourable  board  of  council  out, 
Must  fetch  him  in  he  papers. 

Abergavenny.   .  I  do  know 

Kinsmen  of  mine,  three  at  the  least,  that  have 
By  this  so  sicken'd  their  estates  that  never 
They  shall  abound  as  formerly. 

Buckingham.  O,  many 

Have  broke  their  backs  with  laying  manors  on  'em 
For  this  great  journey.     What  did  this  vanity 
But  minister  communication  of 
A  most  poor  issue  ? 

Norfolk.  Grievingly  I  think, 

The  peace  between  the  French  and  us  not  values 
The  cost  that  did  conclude  it. 

Buckingham.  Every  man, 

After  the  hideous  storm  that  follow'd,  was 
A  thing  inspir'd,  and,  not  consulting,  broke 
Into  a  general  prophecy, — that  this  tempest, 


ACT  L    SCENE  7,  ST 

Dashing  the  garment  of  this  peace,  aboded 
The  sudden  breach  on  't. 

Norfolk.  Which  is  budded  out ; 

For  France  hath  flaw'd  the  league,  and  hath  attach'd 
Our  merchants'  goods  at  Bourdeaux. 

Abergavenny.  Is  it  therefore 

Ihe  ambassador  is  silenc'd  ? 

Norfolk.  Marry,  is  't. 

Abergavenny.  A  proper  title  of  a  peace,  and  purchas'd 
At  a  superfluous  rate  ! 

Buckingham.  Why,  all  this  business 

Our  reverend  cardinal  carried. 

Norfolk.  Like  it  your  grace,  im 

The  state  takes  notice  of  the  private  difference 
Betwixt  you  and  the  cardinal.     I  advise  you — 
And  take  it  from  a  heart  that  wishes  towards  you 
Honour  and  plenteous  safety— that  you  read 
The  cardinal's  malice  and  his  potency 
Together  ;  to  consider  further  that 
What  his  high  hatred  would  effect  wants  not 
A  minister  in  his  power.     You  know  his  nature, 
That  he  's  revengeful ;  and  I  know  his  sword 
Hath  a  sharp  edge  :  it 's  long,  and  't  may  be  said  no 

It  reaches  far;  and  where  't  will  not  extend, 
Thither  he  darts  it.     Bosom  up  my  counsel ; 
You  '11  find  it  wholesome. — Lo,  where  comes  that  rock 
That  I  advise  your  shunning  1 

Enter  CARDINAL  WOLSEY,  the  purse  borne  before  him  ;  certain 
of  the  Guard,  and  two  Secretaries  with  papers.  The  Cardi- 
nal in  his  passage  fixeth  his  eye  on  Buckingham,  and  Buck 
ingham  on  him,  both  fuJl  of  disdain. 

Wolsey.  The  Duke  of  Buckingham's  surveyor?  ha! 
Where  ?s  his  examination  ? 

i  Secretary.  Here,  so  please  you. 


52  KING  HENRY  VIIL 

Wolsey.  Is  he  in  person  ready  ? 

i  Secretary.  Ay,  please  your  grace. 

Wolsey.  Well,  we  shall  then  know  more  ;  and  Buckingham 
Shall  lessen  this  big  look.  {Exeunt  Wolsey  and  train. 

Buckingham.  This  butcher's  cur  is  venom-mouth'd,  and  I 
Have  not  the  power  to  muzzle  him  ;  therefore,  best  121 

Not  wake  him  in  his  slumber.     A  beggar's  book 
Out-worths  a  noble's  blood. 

Norfolk.  What,  are  you  chaf  d  ? 

Ask  God  for  temperance  ;  that 's  the  appliance  only 
Which  your  disease  requires. 

Buckingham.  I  read  in  's  looks 

Matter  against  me,  and  his  eye  revil'd 
Me  as  Bis  abject  object ;  at  this  instant 
He  bores  me  with  some  trick.     He  's  gone  to  the  king  \ 
I  '11  follow  and  out-stare  him. 

Norfolk.  Stay,  my  lord, 

And  let  your  reason  with  your  choler  question  isc 

What  't  is  you  go  about.     To  climb  steep  hills 
Requires  slow  pace  at  first ;  anger  is  like 
A  full-hot  horse,  who  being  allow'd  his  way, 
Self-mettle  tires  him.     Not  a  man  in  England 
Can  advise  me  like  you  ;  be  to  yourself 
As  you  would  to  your  friend. 

Buckingham.  I  '11  to  the  king ; 

And  from  a  mouth  of  honour  quite  cry  down 
This  Ipswich  fellow's  insolence,  or  proclaim 
There  's  difference  in  no  persons. 

Norfolk.  Be  advis'd ; 

Heat  not  a  furnace  for  your  foe  so  hot  140 

That  it  do  singe  yourself;  we  may  outrun 
By  violent  swiftness  that  which  we  run  at, 
And  lose  by  over-running.     Know  you  not 
The  fire  that  mounts  the  liquor  till  't  run  o'er, 
In  seeming  to  augment  it  wastes  it  ?     Be  advis'd  ; 


ACT  L     SCENE   L 


53 


I  say  again,  there  is  no  English  soul 
More  stronger  to  direct  you  than  yourself, 
If  with  the  sap  of  reason  you  would  quench, 
Or  but  allay,  the  fire  of  passion. 

Buckingham.  Sir, 

I  am  thankful  to  you,  and  I  '11  go  along  15 • 

By  your  prescription  ;  but  this  top-proud  fellow— 
Whom  from  the  flow  of  gall  I  name  not,  but 
From  sincere  motions — by  intelligence 
And  proofs  as  clear  as  founts  in  July,  when 
We  see  each  grain  of  gravel,  I  do  know 
To  be  corrupt  and  treasonous. 

Norfolk.  Say  not  treasonous. 

Buckingham.  To  the  king  I  '11  say  't,  and  make  my  vouch 

as  strong 

As  shore  of  rock.  Attend.  This  holy  fox, 
Or  wolf,  or  both, — for  he  is  equal  ravenous 
As  he  is  subtle,  and  as  prone  to  mischief  160 

As  able  to  perform  't,  his  mind  and  place 
Infecting  one  another,  yea,  reciprocally,— 
Only  to  show  his  pomp  as  well  in  France 
As  here  at  home,  suggests  the  king  our  master 
To  this  last  costly  treaty,  the  interview 
That  swallowed  so  much  treasure,  and  like  a  glass 
Did  break  i'  the  rinsing. 

Norfolk.  Faith,  and  so  it  did. 

Buckingham.  Pray  give  me  favour,  sir.     This  cunning  car- 

djnal 

The  articles  o'  the  combination  drew 

As  himself  pleas'd  ;  and  they  were  ratified,  ITC 

As  he  cried  'Thus  let  be,'  to  as  much  end 
As  give  a  crutch  to  the  dead.     But  our  count-cardinal 
Has  done  this,  and  't  is  well ;  for  worthy  Wolsey, 
Who  cannot  err,  he  did  it.     Now  this  follows, — 
Which,  as  I  take  it,  is  a  kind  of  puppy 


54  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

To  the  old  dam,  treason, — Charles  the  emperor, 

Under  pretence  to  see  the  queen,  his  aunt,— 

For  't  was  indeed  his  colour,  but  he  came 

To  whisper  Wolsey, — here  makes  visitation. 

His  fears  were  that  the  interview  betwixt  180 

England  and  France  might,  through  their  amity, 

Breed  him  some  prejudice ;  for  from  this  league 

Peep'd  harms  that  menac'd  him.     He  privily 

Deals  with  our  cardinal,  and,  as  I  trow, — 

Which  I  do  well,  for,  I  am  sure,  the  emperor 

Paid  ere  he  promis'd,  whereby  his  suit  was  granted 

Ere  it  was  ask'd  ; — but  when  the  way  was  made, 

And  pav'd  with  gold,  the  emperor  thus  desir'd, — 

That  he  would  please  to  alter  the  king's  course, 

And  break  the  foresaid  peace.     Let  the  king  know—         190 

As  soon  he  shall  by  me — that  thus  the  cardinal 

Does  buy  and  sell  his  honour  as  he  pleases, 

And  for  his  own  advantage. 

Norfolk.  I  am  sorry 

To  hear  this  of  him,  and  could  wish  he  were 
Something  mistaken  in  't. 

Buckingham.  No,  not  a  syllable ; 

I  do  pronounce  him  in  that  very  shape 
He  shall  appear  in  proof. 

Enter  BRANDON,  with  Sergeant  at  Arms  and  Guards. 

Brandon.  Your  office,  sergeant ;  execute  it. 

Sergeant.  Sirv 

My  lord  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  and  Earl 
Of  Hereford,  Stafford,  and  Northampton,  I  *» 

Arrest  thee  of  high  treason,  in  the  name 
Of  our  most  sovereign  king. 

Buckingham.  Lo,  you,  my  lord, 

The  net  has  fallen  upon  me!  I  shall  perish 
Under  device  and  practice. 


ACT  I.     SCENE  I.  55 

Brandon.  I  am  sorry, 

To  see  you  ta'en  from  liberty,  to  look  on 
The  business  present.     T  is  his  highness'  pleasure 
Fou  shall  to  the  Tower. 

Buckingham.  It  will  help  me  nothing 

To  plead  mine  innocence,  for  that  dye  is  on  me 
Which  makes  my  whitest  part  black.     The  will  of  heaven 
Be  done  in  this  and  all  things  ! — I  obey. —  21  > 

0  my  Lord  Aberga'ny,  fare  you  well ! 

Brandon.  Nay,  he  must  bear  you  company. — The  king 

[70  Abergavenny. 

Is  pleas'd  you  shall  to  the  Tower,  till  you  know 
How  he  determines  further. 

Abergavenny.  As  the  duke  said, 

The  will  of  heaven  be  done,  and  the  king's  pleasure 
By  me  obey'd ! 

Brandon.          Here  is  a  warrant  from 
The  king  to  attach  Lord  Montacute  ;  and  the  bodies 
Of  the  duke's  confessor,  John  de  la  Car, 
One  Gilbert  Peck,  his  chancellor, — 

Buckingham.  So,  so ; 

These  are  the  limbs  o'  the  plot.     No  more,  I  hope.  220 

Brandon.  A  monk  o'  the  Chartreux. 

Buckingham.  O,  Nicholas  Hopkins  ? 

Brandon.  He. 

Buckingham.  My  surveyor  is  false;  the  o'er-great  cardinal 
Hath  show'd  him  gold.     My  life  is  spann'd  already; 

1  am  the  shadow  of  poor  Buckingham, 
Whose  figure  even  this  instant  cloud  puts  on, 

By  darkening  my  clear  sun. — My  lord,  farewell.         [Exeunt. 


5  6  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

SCENE  II.      The  Council-chamber. 

I  Cornets.     Enter  KING  HENRY,  CARDINAL  WOLSEY,  the  Lords 
of  the  Council,  SIR  THOMAS  LOVELL,  Officers,  <w/ Attend- 
ants.     The  King  enters  leaning  on  the  Cardinal's  shoulder. 
King  Henry.  My  life  itself,  and  the  best  heart  of  it, 
Thanks  you  for  this  great  care.     I  stood  i'  the  level 
Of  a  full  charg'd  confederacy,  and  give  thanks 
To  you  that  chok'd  it. — Let  be  call'd  before  us 
That  gentleman  of  Buckingham's  ;  in  person 
I  '11  hear  him  his  confessions  justify, 
And  point  by  point  the  treasons  of  his  master 
He  shall  again  relate. 

\The  King  takes  his  seat.  The  Lords  of  the  Council  oc- 
cupy their  several  places.  The  Cardinal  places  him- 
self under  the  King's  feet,  on  his  right  side. 

A  noise  within,  crying,  '  Room  for  the  Queen.'      Enter  the 

Queen,  ushered  by  NORFOLK  and  SUFFOLK  :    she  kneels. 

The  King  riseth  from  his  state,  takes  her  up,  kisses  her, 

and placeth  her  by  him. 

Queen  Katherine.    Nay,  we   must  longer  kneel ;   I   am   a 
suitor. 

King  Henry.  Arise,  and  take  place  by  us. — Half  your  suit 
Never  name  to  us;  you  have  half  our  power:  n 

The  other  moiety,  ere  you  ask,  is  given  ; 
Repeat  your  will,  and  take  it. 

Queen  Katherine.  Thank  your  majesty. 

That  you  would  love  yourself,  and  in  that  love 
Not  unconsider'd  leave  your  honour,  nor 
The  dignity  of  your  office,  is  the  point 
Of  my  petition. 

A7//£-  Henry.     Lady  mine,  proceed. 

Queen  Katherine.  I  am  solicited  not  by  a  few, 
And  those  of  true  condition,  that  your  subjects 


ACT  I.     SCENE  IL  57 

Are  in  great  grievance.     There  have  been  commissions      * 

Sent  down  among  'em,  which  hath  flaw'd  the  heart 

Of  all  their  loyalties;  wherein,  although, 

My  good  lord  cardinal,  they  vent  reproaches 

Most  bitterly  on  you,  as  putter-on 

Of  these  exactions,  yet  the  king  our  master — 

Whose  honour  heaven  shield  from  soil ! — even  he  escapes 

not 

Language  unmannerly,  yea,  such  which  breaks 
The  sides  of  loyalty  and  almost  appears 
In  loud  rebellion. 

Norfolk.  Not  almost  appears, — 

It  doth  appear ;  for  upon  these  taxations  30 

The  clothiers  all,  not  able  to  maintain 
The  many  to  them  longing,  have  put  off 
The  spinsters,  carders,  fullers,  weavers,  who, 
Unfit  for  other  life,  compell'd  by  hunger 
And  lack  of  other  means,  in  desperate  manner 
Daring  the  event  to  the  teeth,  are  all  in  uproar, 
And  danger  serves  among  them. 

King  Henry.  Taxation  ! 

Wherein  ?  and  what  taxation  ?— My  lord  cardinal, 
You  that  are  blam'd  for  it  alike  with  us, 
Know  you  of  this  taxation  ? 

Wolsey.  Please  you,  sir,  40 

I  know  but  of  a  single  part,  in  aught 
Pertains  to  the  state,  and  front  but  in  that  file 
Where  others  tell  steps  with  me. 

Queen  Katherine.  No,  my  lord, 

You  know  no  more  than  others  ;  but  you  frame 
Things  that  are  known  alike,  which  are  not  wholesome 
To  those  which  would  not  know  them  and  yet  must 
Perforce  be  their  acquaintance.     These  exactions, 
Whereof  my  sovereign  would  have  note,  they  are 
Most  pestilent  to  the  hearing  ;  and,  to  bear  'em, 


58  KING   HENRY  VIII. 

The  back  is  sacrifice  to  the  load.     They  say  $o 

They  are  devis'd  by  you,  or  else  you  suffer 
Too  hard  an  exclamation. 

King  Henry.  Still  exaction  ! 

The  nature  of  it  ?     In  what  kind,  let 's  know, 
Is  this  exaction  ? 

Queen  Katherine.   I  am  much  too  venturous 
In  tempting  of  your  patience,  but  am  bolden'd 
Under  your  promis'd  pardon.     The  subjects'  grief 
Comes  through  commissions,  which  compel  from  each 
The  sixth  part  of  his  substance,  to  be  levied 
Without  delay;  and  the  pretence  for  this 
Is  nam'd  your  wars  in  France.     This  makes  bold  mouths  : 
Tongues  spit  their  duties  out,  and  cold  hearts  freeze  61 

Allegiance  in  them  ;  their  curses  now 
Live  where  their  prayers  did,  and  it 's  come  to  pass 
This  tractable  obedience  is  a  slave 
To  each  incensed  will.     I  would  your  highness 
Would  give  it  quick  consideration,  for 
There  is  no  primer  business. 

King  Henry.  By  my  life, 

This  is  against  our  pleasure. 

Wolsey.  And  for  me, 

I  have  no  further  gone  in  this  than  by 

A  single  voice,  and  that  not  pass'd  me  but  70 

By  learned  approbation  of  the  judges.     If  I  am 
Traduc'd  by  ignorant  tongues,  which  neither  know 
My  faculties  nor  person,  yet  will  be 
The  chronicles  of  my  doing,  let  me  say 
'T  is  but  the  fate  of  place  and  the  rough  brake 
That  virtue  must  go  through.     We  must  not  stint 
Our  necessary  actions,  in  the  fear 
To  cope  malicious  censurers;  which  ever, 
As  ravenous  fishes,  do  a  vessel  follow 
That  is  new  trimm'd,  but  benefit  no  further  80 


ACT  I.    SCENE  II. 


59 


Than  vainly  longing.     What  we  oft  do  best, 
By  sick  interpreters — once  weak  ones — is 
Not  ours,  or  not  allow'd  ;  what  worst,  as  oft, 
Hitting  a  grosser  quality,  is  cried  up 
For  our  best  act.     If  we  shall  stand  still, 
In  fear  our  motion  will  be  mock'd  or  carp'd  at, 
We  should  take  root  here  where  we  sit,  or  sit 
State-statues  only. 

King  Henry.  Things  done  well, 

And  with  a  care,  exempt  themselves  from  fear ; 
Things  done  without  example,  in  their  issue 
Are  to  be  fear'd.     Have  you  a  precedent 
Of  this  commission  ?     I  believe  not  any. 
We  must  not  rend  our  subjects  from  our  laws, 
And  stick  them  in  our  will.     Sixth  part  of  each? 
A  trembling  contribution  !     Why,  we  take 
From  every  tree  lop,  bark,  and  part  o'  the  timber ; 
And,  though  we  leave  it  with  a  root,  thus  hack'd, 
The  air  will  drink  the  sap.     To  every  county 
Where  this  is  question'd,  send  our  letters  with 
Free  pardon  to  each  man  that  has  denied  i<x> 

The  force  of  this  commission.     Pray  look  to  't ; 
I  put  it  to  your  care. 

Wolsey.  [Aside  to  the  Secretary}  A  word  with  you. 
Let  there  be  letters  writ  to  every  shire, 
Of  the  king's  grace  and  pardon.     The  griev'd  commons 
Hardly  conceive  of  me  ;  let  it  be  nois'd 
That  through  our  intercession  this  revokement 
And  pardon  comes.     I  shall  anon  advise  you 
Further  in  the  proceeding.  \Exit  Secretary. 

Enter  Surveyor. 

Queen  Katherine.  I  am  sorry  that  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
Is  run  in  your  displeasure. 

King  Henry.  It  grieves  many.  no 


60  KING   HENRY  VIII. 

The  gentleman  is  learn'd,  and  a  most  rare  speaker ; 

To  nature  none  more  bound  ;  his  training  such 

That  he  may  furnish  and  instruct  great  teachers, 

And  never  seek  for  aid  out  of  himself :  yet  see, 

When  these  so  noble  benefits  shall  prove 

Not  well  dispos'd,  the  mind  growing  once  corrupt, 

They  turn  to  vicious  forms,  ten  times  more  ugly 

Than  ever  they  were  fair.     This  man  so  complete. 

Who  was  enroll'd  'mongst  wonders,  and  when  wer 

Almost  with  ravish'd  listening,  could  not  find  >•* 

His  hour  of  speech  a  minute, — he,  my  lady,- 

Hath  into  monstrous  habits  put  the  graces 

That  once  were  his,  and  is  become  as  black 

As  if  besmear'd  in  hell.     Sit  by  us  ;  you  shall  hear — 

This  was  his  gentleman  in  trust — of  him 

Things  to  strike  honour  sad. — Bid  him  recount 

The  fore-recited  practices,  whereof 

We  cannot  feel  too  little,  hear  too  much. 

Wolsey.   Stand   forth,  and  with   bold   spirit    relate   what 

you, 

Most  like  a  careful  subject,  have  collected  '3° 

Out  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

King  Henry.  Speak  freely. 

Surveyor.  First,  it  was  usual  with  him — every  day 
It  would  infect  his  speech, — that  if  the  king 
Should  without  issue  die,  he  '11  carry  it  so 
To  make  the  sceptre  his.     These  very  words 
I  Ve  heard  him  utter  to  his  son-in-law, 
Lord  Aberga'ny,  to  whom  by  oath  he  menac'd 
Revenge  upon  the  cardinal. 

Wolsey.  Please  your  highness,  note 

This  dangerous  conception  in  this  point. 
Not  friended  by  his  wish,  to  your  high  person  140 

His  will  is  most  malignant,  and  it  stretches 
Beyond  you  to  your  friends. 


ACT  L    SCENE  II.  61 

Queen  Katherine.  .My  learn 'd  lord  cardinal, 

Deliver  all  with  charity. 

King  Henry.  Speak  on. 

How  grounded  he  his  title  to  the  crown 
Upon  our  fail?  to  this  point  hast  thou  heard  him 
At  any  time  speak  aught? 

Surveyor.  He  was  brought  to  this 

By  a  vain  prophecy  of  Nicholas  Henton. 

King  Henry.  What  was  that  Henton  ? 

Surveyor.  Sir,  a  Chartreux  friar, 

His  confessor;  who  fed  him  every  minute 
With  words  of  sovereignty. 

King  Henry.  How  know'st  thou  this  ?          150 

Surveyor.  Not  long  before  your  highness  sped  to  France, 
The  duke,  being  at  the  Rose  within  the  parish 
Saint  Lawrence  Poultney,  did  of  me  demand 
What  was  the  speech  among  the  Londoners 
Concerning  the  French  journey?     I  replied, 
Men  fear'd  the  French  would  prove  perfidious, 
To  the  king's  danger.     Presently  the  duke 
Said  't  was  the  fear  indeed,  and  that  he  doubted 
'T  would  prove  the  verity  of  certain  words 
Spoke  by  a  holy  monk  ;  '  that  oft,'  says  he,  160 

'  Hath  sent  to  me,  wishing  me  to  permit 
John  de  la  Car,  my  chaplain,  a  choice  hour 
To  hear  from  him  a  matter  of  some  moment : 
Whom,  after  under  the  confession's  seal 
He  solemnly  had  sworn  that  what  he  spoke 
My  chaplain  to  no  creature  living  but 
To  me  should  utter,  with  demure  confidence 
This  pausingly  ensued  :  Neither  the  king  nor  's  heirs, 
Tell  you  the  duke,  shall  prosper;  bid  him  strive 
To  gain  the  love  o'  the  commonalty  :  the  duke  .70 

Shall  govern  England.' 

Queen  Katherine.  If  I  know  you  well, 


62  KING   HENRY  VIIL 

You  were  the  duke's  surveyor,  and  lost  your  office 
On  the  complaint  o'  the  tenants ;  take  good  heed 
You  charge  not  in  your  spleen  a  noble  person, 
And  spoil  your  nobler  soul.     I  say,  take  heed  ; 
Yes,  heartily  beseech  you. 

King  Henry.  Let  him  on. — 

Go  forward. 

Surveyor.  On  my  soul,  I  '11  speak  but  truth. 
I  told  my  lord  the  duke,  by  the  devil's  illusions 
The  monk  might  be  deceiv'd;  and  that  't  was  dangerous 

for  him 

To  ruminate  on  this  so  far,  until  iSc 

It  forg'd  him  some  design,  which,  being  believ'd, 
It  was  much  like  to  do.     He  answer'd, '  Tush  ! 
It  can  do  me  no  damage  ;'  adding  further, 
That,  had  the  king  in  his  last  sickness  fail'd, 
The  cardinal's  and  Sir  Thomas  LovelPs  heads 
Should  have  gone  off. 

King  Henry.  Ha  !  what,  so  rank  ?     Ah,  ha ! 

There  's  mischief  in  this  man. — Canst  thou  say  further? 

Surveyor.  I  can,  my  liege. 

King  Henry.  Proceed. 

Surveyor.  Being  at  Greenwich, 

After  your  highness  had  reprov'd  the  duke 
About  Sir  William  Blomer, — 

King  Henry.  I  remember  190 

Of  such  a  time  ;  being  my  sworn  servant, 
The  duke  retain'd  him  his. — But  on  ;  what  hence? 

Surveyor.  '  If,'  quoth  he, '  I  for  this  had  been  committed. — 
As  to  the  Tower  I  thought, — I  would  have  play'd 
The  part  my  father  meant  to  act  upon 
The  usurper  Richard  ;  who,  being  at  Salisbury, 
Made  suit  to  come  in  's  presence  ;  which  if  granted, 
As  he  made  semblance  of  his  duty,  would 
Have  put  his  knife  into  him.' 


ACT  /.     SCENE  III.  63 

A"/«;r  Henry.  A  giant  traitor  ! 

Wolsey.  Now,  madam,  may  his  highness  live  in  freedom, 
And  this  man  out  of  prison  ? 

Queen  Katherine.  God  mend  all !  201 

King  Heiiry.  There  's  something  more  would  out  of  thee  : 
what  say'st  ? 

Surveyor.  After  *  the  duke  his  father,'  with  '  the  knife,' 
He  stretch'd  him,  and,  with  one  hand  on  his  dagger, 
Another  spread  on  's  breast,  mounting  his  eyes> 
He  did  discharge  a  horrible  oath  ;  whose  tenour 
Was,  were  he  evil  us'd,  he  would  outgo 
His  father  by  as  much  as  a  performance 
Does  an  irresolute  purpose. 

King  Henry.  There  's  his  period, 

To  sheathe  his  knife  in  us.     He  is  attach'd ;  ?io 

Call  him  to  present  trial :  if  he  may 
Find  mercy  in  the  law,  't  is  his  ;  if  hone, 
Let  him  not  seek  't  of  us.     By  day  and  night, 
He  's  traitor  to  the  height.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 
Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain  and  LORD  SANDS. 

Chamberlain.  Is  't  possible  the  spells  of  France  should 

juggle 
Men  into  such  strange  mysteries  ? 

Sands.  New  customs, 

Though  they  be  never  so  ridiculous, 
Nay,  let  'em  be  unmanly,  yet  are  followed. 

Chamberlain.  As  far  as  I  see,  all  the  good  our  English 
Have  got  by  the  late  voyage  is  but  merely 
A  fit  or  two  o'  the  face  ;  but  they  are  shrewd  ones, 
For  when  they  hold  'em  you  would  swear  directly 
Their  very  noses  had  been  counsellors 
To  Pepin  or  Clotharius,  they  keep  state  so.  » 


64  KING  HENRY   VIII. 

Sand*   They  have  all  new  legs,  and  lame  ones  ;  one  would 

take  it, 

That  never  saw  'em  pace  before,  the  spavin 
Or  springhalt  reign'd  among  'em. 

Chamberlain.  Death  !  my  lord, 

Their  clothes  are  after  such  a  pagan  cut  too, 
That,  sure,  they  've  worn  out  Christendom. — How  now  ? 
What  news,  Sir  Thomas  Lovell  ? 

Enter  SIR  THOMAS  LOVELL. 

Lovell.  Faith,  my  lord, 

I  hear  of  none  but  the  new  proclamation 
That  's  clapp'd  upon  the  court-gate. 

Chamberlain.  What  is  't  forr 

Lovell.  The  reformation  of  our  travell'd  gallants, 
That  fill  the  court  with  quarrels,  talk,  and  tailors.  •* 

Chamberlain.  I  'm  glad  't  is  there ;  now  I  would  prav  our 

monsieurs 

To  think  an  English  courtier  may  be  wise, 
And  never  see  the  Louvre.. 

Lovell.  They  must  either — 

For  so  run  the  conditions — leave  those  remnants 
Of  fool  and  feather  that  they  got  in  France, 
With  all  their  honourable  points  of  ignorance 
Pertaining  thereunto, — as  fights  and  fireworks, 
Abusing  better  men  than  they  can  be, 
Out  of  a  foreign  wisdom, — renouncing  clean 
The  faith  they  have  in  tennis,  and  tall  stockings, 
Short  blister'd  breeches,  and  those  types  of  travel, 
And  understand  again  like  honest  men, 
Or  pack  to  their  old  playfellows :  there,  I  take  it, 
They  may,  cum  privilegio,  wear  away 
The  lag  end  of  their  lewdness,  and  be  laugh'd  at. 

Sands.  'T  is  time  to  give  'em  physic,  their  diseases 
Are  grown  so  catching. 


ACT  L     SCENE  111.  05 

Chamberlain.  What  a  loss  our  ladies 

Will  have  of  these  trim  vanities  ! 

Lovell.  Ay,  marry, 

There  will  be  woe,  indeed. 

Sands.  I  am  glad  they  're  going, 

For,  sure,  there  's  no  converting  of  'em  ;  now,  * 

An  honest  country  lord,  as  I  am,  beaten 
A  long  time  out  of  play,  may  bring  his  plain-song, 
And  have  an  hour  of  hearing,  and,  by  'r  Lady, 
Held  current  music.too. 

Chamberlain.  Well  said,  Lord  Sands  ; 

Your  colt's  tooth  is  not  cast  yet.- 

Sands.  No,  my  lord  ; 

Nor  shall  not,  while  I  have  a  stump. 

Chamberlain.  Sir  Thomas, 

Whither  were  you  a-going? 

Lovell.  To  the  cardinal's. 

Your  lordship  is  a  guest  too. 

Chamberlain.  O,  't  is  true  : 

This  night  he  makes  a  supper,  and  a  great  one, 
To  many  lords  and  ladies  ;  there  will  be  5o 

The  beauty  of  this  kingdom,  I  '11  assure  you. 

Lovell.  That  churchman  bears  a  bounteous  mind  indeed, 
A  hand  as  fruitful  as  the  land  that  feeds  us ; 
His  dews  fall  every  where. 

Chamberlain.  No  doubt,  he  's  noble  ; 

He  had  a  black  mouth  that  said  other  of  him. 

Sands.   He  may,  my  lord. — has  wherewithal ;  in  him 
Sparing  would  show  a  worse  sin  than  ill  doctrine. 
Men  of  his  way  should  be  most  liberal  ; 
They  are  set  here  for  examples. 

Chamberlain.  True,  they  are  so  ; 

But  few  now  give  so  great  ones.     My  barge  stays  ;  60 

Your  lordship  shall  along. — Come,  good  Sir  Thomas, 
We  shall  be  late  else  ;  which  I  would  not  be, 

E 


66  KING  HENRY   VII L 

For  I  was  spoke  to,  with  Sir  Henry  Guildford, 
This  night  to  be  comptrollers. 

Sands.  I  am  your  lordship's. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV.     The  Presence-chamber  in  York-place. 
Hautboys.     A  small  table  under  a  state  for  the  Cardinal,  a 
longer  table  for  the  guests ;  then  enter  ANNE  BULLEN,  and 
divers  Lords,  Ladies,  and  Gentlewomen,  as  guests \  at  me 
door ;  at  another  door  enter  SIR  HENRY  GUILDFORD. 

Guildford.  Ladies,  a  general  welcome  from  his  grace 
Salutes  ye  all ;  this  night  he  dedicates 
To  fair  content  and  you.     None  here,  he  hopes, 
In  all  this  noble  bevy,  has  brought  with  her 
One  care  abroad  ;  he  would  have  all  as  merry 
As  first  good  company,  good  wine,  good  welcome 
Can  make  good  people. — O  my  lord  !  you  're  tardy ; 

Enter  Lord  Chamberlain,  LORD  SANDS,  and  SIR  THOMAS 

LOVELL. 

The  very  thought  of  this  fair  company 
Clapp'd  wings  to  me. 

Chamberlain.  You  are  young,  Sir  Harry  Guildford.  - 

Sweet  ladies,  will  it  please  you  sit  ? — Sir  Harry,  10 

Place  you  that  side,  I  '11  take  the  charge  of  this ; 
His  grace  is  entering. — Nay,  you  must  not  freeze ; 
Two  women  plac'd  together  makes  cold  weather. — 
My  Lord  Sands,  you  are  one  will  keep  'em  waking; 
Pray,  sit  between  these  ladies. 

Sands.  By  my  faith, 

And  thank  your  lordship. — By  your  leave,  sweet  ladies. 

[Seats  himself  between  Anne  Bullen  and  another  lady. 
If  I  chance  to  talk  a  little  wild,  forgive  me ; 
I  had  it  from  my  father. 


ACT  I.     SCENE  IV.  67 

Anne.  Was  he  mad,  sir  ? 

Sands.  O,  very  mad,  exceeding  mad  ;  in  love  too  ; 
But  he  would  bite  none  :  just  as  I  do  now,  20 

He  would  kiss  you  twenty  with  a  breath.  [Kisses  her. 

Chamberlain.  .          Well  said,  my  lord. — 

So  now  you  're  fairly  seated. — Gentlemen, 
The  penance  lies  on  you,  if  these  fair  ladies 
Pass  away  frowning. 

Sands.  For  my  little  cure, 

Let  me  alone. 

Hautboys.     Enter  CARDINAL  WOLSEY,  attended,  and  takes 

his  state. 

Wolsey.  Ye  're  welcome,  my  fair  guests ;  that  noble  lady, 
Or  gentleman,  that  is  not  freely  merry, 
Is  not  my  friend.     This  to  confirm  my  welcome; 
And  to  you  all  good  health.  [Drinks. 

Sands.  Your  grace  is  noble  ; 

Let  me  have  such  a  bowl  may  hold  my  thanks,  30 

And  save  me  so  much  talking. 

Wolsey.  My  Lord  Sands, 

I  am  beholding  to  you  ;  cheer  your  neighbours. — 
Ladies,  you  are  not  merry  ; — gentlemen, 
Whose  fault  is  this  ? 

Sands.  The  red  wine  first  must  rise 

In  their  fair  cheeks,  my  lord;  then  we  shall  have  'em 
Talk  us  to  silence. 

Anne.  You  are  a  merry  gamester, 

My  Lord  Sands. 

Sands.  Yes,  if  I  make  my  play. 

Here  's  to  your  ladyship ;  and  pledge  it,  madam, 
For  't  is  to  such  a  thing, — 

Anne.  You  cannot  show  me. 

Sands.  I  told  your  grace  they  would  talk  anon. 

[Drum  and  trumpets  within  :  chambers  discharged. 


68  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

Wolsey.  What 's  that  ?  4* 

Chamberlain.  Look  out  there,  some  of  ye.  [Exit  a  Servant. 
Wolsey.  What  warlike  voice, 

And  to  what  end  is  this  ? — Nay,  ladies,  fear  not ; 

By  all  the  laws  of  war  ye  're  privileg'd. 

Servant  returns. 

Chamberlain.  How  now !  what  is  't  ? 

Servant.  A  noble  troop  of  strangers, 

For  so  they  seem  ;  they  've  left  their  barge  and  landed, 
And  hither  make,  as  great  ambassadors 
From  foreign  princes. 

Wolsey.  Good  lord  chamberlain, 

Go,  give  'em  welcome  ;  you  can  speak  the  French  tongue : 
And,  pray,  receive  'em  nobly,  and  conduct  'em 
Into  our  presence,  where  this  heaven  of  beauty  50 

Shall  shine  at  full  upon  them. — Some  attend  him. — 

[Exit  Chamberlain,  attended.     All  arise,  and  the  tables 

are  removed. 

You  have  now  a  broken  banquet,  but  we  '11  mend  it. 
A  good  digestion  to  you  all ;  and,  once  more, 
I  shower  a  welcome  on  ye. — Welcome  all. — 

Hautboys.  Enter  the  King  and  others,  as  maskers,  habited  like 
Shepherds,  ushered  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain.  They  pass 
directly  before  the  Cardinal,  and  gracefully  salute  him. 

A  noble  company  !  what  are  their  pleasures? 

Chamberlain.  Because  they  speak  no  English,  thus  they 

pray'd 

To  tell  your  grace:  that,  having  heard  by  fame 
Of  this  so  noble  and  so  fair  assembly 
This  night  to  meet  here,  they  could  do  no  less, 
Out  of  the  great  respect  they  bear  to  beauty,  6< 

But  leave  their  flocks,  and  under  your  fair  conduct 
Crave  leave  to  view  these  ladies,  and  entreat 
An  hour  of  revels  with  'em, 


ACT  I.     SCENE  IV.  69 

Wolsey.  Say,  lord  chamberlain, 

They  have  done  my  poor  house  grace  ;  for  which  I  pay  'em 
A.  thousand  thanks,  and  pray  'em  take  their  pleasures. 

\Ladies  chosen  for  the  dance.    The  King  takes  Anne  Bullen. 

King  Henry.  The  fairest  hand  I  ever  touch 'd.     O  beauty  ! 
Till  now  I  never  knew  thee.  [Music.     Dance 

\\olsey.  My  lord,— 

Chamberlain.         Your  grace  ? 

Wolsey.  Pray  tell  'em  thus  much  from  me  : 

There  should  be  one  amongst  'em,  by  his  person, 
More  worthy  this  place  than  myself;  to  whom,  70 

If  I  but  knew  him,  with  my  love  and  duty 
I  would  surrender  it. 

Chamberlain.  I  will,  my  lord. 

\Chamberiain  goes  to  the  maskers,  and  returns. 

Wolsey.  What  say  they  ? 

Chamberlain.  Such  a  one,  they  all  confess, 

There  is  indeed  ;  which  they  would  have  your  grace 
Find  out,  and  he  will  take  it. 

Wolsey.  Let  me  see  then. — 

\Comes from  his  state. 

By  all  your  good  leaves,  gentlemen  ;  here  I  '11  make 
My  royal  choice. 

King  Henry.         You  have  found  him,  cardinal.  [Unmasks. 
You  hold  a  fair  assembly ;  you  do  well,  lord. 
You  are  a  churchman,  or,  I  '11  tell  you,  cardinal, 
I  should  judge  now  unhappily. 

Wolsey.  I  am  glad  8c 

Your  grace  is  grown  so  pleasant. 

King  Henry.  My  lord  chamberlain, 

Prithee,  come  hither.     What  fair  lady  's  that? 

Chambttlain.  An  't  please  your  grace,  Sir  Thomas  Bullen's 

daughter, — 
The  Viscount  Rochforcl, — one  of  her  highness'  women. 

King  Henry.  By  heaven  she  is  a  dainty  one. — Sweetheart, 


7o  'KING  HENRY  VIII. 

I  were  unmannerly  to  take  you  out, 

And  not  to  kiss  you. — A  health,  gentlemen  ! 

Let  it  go  round. 

Wolsey.  Sir  Thomas  Lovell,  is  the  banquet  ready 
I'  the  privy  chamber? 

Lovell.  Yes,  my  lord. 

Wolsey.  ,      Your  grace,  9° 

I  fear,  with  dancing  is  a  little  heated. 

King  Henry.   I  fear,  too  much. 

Wolsey.  There  's  fresher  air,  my  lord, 

In  the  next  chamber. 

King  Henry.    Lead  in  your    ladies,  every  one.  —  Sweet 

partner, 

I  must  not  yet  forsake  you. — Let 's  be  merry, 
Good  my  lord  cardinal :  I  have  half  a  dozen  healths 
To  drink  to  these  fair  ladies,  and  a  measure 
To  lead  'em  once  again  ;  and  then  let 's  dream* 
Who  's  best  in  favour. — Let  the  music  knock  it. 

\Exeunt  with  trumpets 


MEDAL  OK  FRANCIS   t. 


ACT  II. 
SCENE  I.    A  Street. 

Enter  two  Gentlemen,  meeting. 
I  Gentleman.  Whither  away  so  fast? 
3  Gentleman.  O  ! — God  save  ye 


72  KING  HENRY   VIII. 

Even  to  the  hall,  to  hear  what  shall  become 
Of  the  great  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

1  Gentleman.  I  '11  save  you 
That  labour,  sir.     All 's  now  done,  but  the  ceremony 
Of  bringing  back  the  prisoner. 

2  Gentleman.  Were  you  there  ? 

1  Gentleman.  Yes,  indeed,  was  I. 

2  Gentleman.  Pray,  speak  what  has  happen '^1 

1  Gentleman.  You  may  guess  quickly  what. 

2  Gentleman.  Is  he  found  guilty? 

1  Gentleman.  Yes,  truly  is  he,  and  condemn'd  upon  't. 

2  Gentleman.  I  am  sorry  for 't. 

1  Gentleman.  So  are  a  number  more. 

2  Gentleman.  But,  pray,  how  pass'd  it  ?  10 

1  Gentleman.  I  '11  tell  you  in  a  little.     The  great  duke 
Came  to  the  bar,  where  to  his  accusations 

He  pleaded  still  not  guilty,  and  alleg'd 
Many  sharp  reasons  to  defeat  the  law. 
The  king's  attorney,  on  the  contrary, 
Urg'd  on  the  examinations,  proofs,  confessions 
Of  divers  witnesses,  which  the  duke  desir'd 
To  have  brpught  viva  voce  to  his  face  : 
At  which  appear'd  against  him  his  surveyor  , 
.Sir  Gilbert  Peck,  his  chancellor  ;  and  John  Car,  20 

Confessor  to  him  ;  with  that  devil-monk, 
Hopkins,  that  made  this  mischief. 

2  Gentleman.  That  was  he 
That  fed  him  with  his  prophecies? 

T  Gentleman.  The  same. 

All  these  accus'd  him  strongly ;  which  he  fain 
Would  have  flung  from  him,  but  indeed  he  could  not-. 
And  so  his  peers,  upon  this  evidence, 
Have  found  him  guilty  of  high  treason.     Much 
He  spoke,  and  learnedly,  for  life  ;  but  all 
Was  either  pitied  in  him  or  forgotten. 


ACT  II.     SCEXK  /. 


73 


2  Gentleman.  After  all  this,  how  did  he  bear  himself?      30 

1  Gentleman.  When  he  was  brought  again  to  the  bar,  to  heai 
His  knell  rung  out,  his  judgment,  he  was  stirr'd 

With  such  an  agony,  he  sweat  extremely, 
And  something  spoke  in  choler,  ill  and  hasty; 
But  he  fell  to  himself  again,  and  sweetly 
In  all  the  rest  show'd  a  most  noble  patience. 

2  Gentleman.   I  do  not  think  he  fears  death. 

T  Gentleman.  Sure,  he  does  not; 

He  was  never  so  womanish  :  the  cause 
He  may  a  little  grieve  at. 

2  Gentleman.  Certainly, 

The  cardinal  is  the  end  of  this. 

1  Gentleman.  'T  is  likely,  4o 
By  all  conjectures :  first,  Kildare's  attainder, 

Then  deputy  of  Ireland  ;  who  remov'd, 

Earl  Surrey  was  sent  thither,  and  in  haste  too, 

Lest  he  should  help  his  father. 

2  Gentleman.  That  trick  of  state 
Was  a  deep  envious  one. 

1  Gentleman.  At  his  return, 
No  doubt  he  will  requite  it.     This  is  noted, 
And  generally,  whoever  the  king  favours, 
The  cardinal  instantly  will  find  employment, 
And  far  enough  from  court  too. 

2  Gentleman.  All  the  commons 

Hate  him  perniciously,  and,  o'  my  conscience,  50 

Wish  him  ten  fathom  deep;  this  duke  as  much 
They  love  and  dote  on,  call  him  bounteous  Buckingham, 
The  mirror  of  all  courtesy, — 

i  Gentleman.  Stay  there,  sir  ; 

And  see  the  noble  ruin'd  man  you  speak  of. 

Enter  BUCKINGHAM  from  his  arraignment ;  Tipstaves  before 
him  ;  the  axe,  with  the  edge  towards  him  ;   Halberds  on  each 


74  KING  HENRY  VI I L 

side;  accompanied  with  SIR  THOMAS  LOVELL,  SIR  NICHO- 
LAS VAUX,  SIR  WILLIAM  SANDS,  and  Common  People. 
2  Gentleman.  Let 's  stand  close,  and  behold  him. 
Buckingham.  All  good  people, 

You  that  thus  far  have  come  to  pity  me, 
Hear  what  I  say,  and  then  go  home  and  lose  me. 
I  have  this  day  receiv'd  a  traitor's  judgment, 
And  by  that  name  must  die ;  yet,  heaven  bear  witness, 
And  if  I  have  a  conscience,  let  it  sink  me,  (A 

Even  as  the  axe  falls,  if  I  be  not  faithful ! 
The  law  I  bear  no  malice  for  my  death, 
'T  has  done  upon  the  premises  but  justice; 
But  those  that  sought  it  I  could  wish  more  Christians: 
Be  what  they  will,  I  heartily  forgive  'em. 
Yet  let  'em  look  they  glory  not  in  mischief, 
Nor  build  their  evils  on  the  graves  of  great  men ; 
For  then  my  guiltless  blood  must  cry  against  'em. 
For  further  life  in  this  world  I  ne'er  hope, 
Nor  will  I  sue,  although  the  king  have  mercies  7« 

More  than  I  dare  make  faults.     You  few  that  lov'd  me, 
And  dare  be  bold  to  weep  for  Buckingham, 
His  noble  friends  and  fellows,  whom  to  leave 
Is  only  bitter  to  him  only  dying, 
Go  with  me,  like  good  angels,  to  my  end  ; 
And,  as  the  long  divorce  of  steel  falls  on. me, 
Make  of  your  prayers  one  sweet  sacrifice, 
And  lift  my  soul  to  heaven. — Lead  on,  o'  God's  name. 

Lovell.  I  do  beseech  your  grace  for  charity, 
If  ever  any  malice  in  your  heart  go 

Were  hid  against  me,  now  to  forgive  me  frankly. 

Buckingham.   Sir  Thomas  Lovell,  I  as  free  forgive  you 
As  I  would  be  forgiven ;  I  forgive  all. 
There  cannot  be  those  numberless  offences 
'Gainst  me  that  I  cannot  take  peace  with  ;  no  black  envy- 
Shall  mark  my  grave.     Commend  me  to  his  grace  ; 


ACT  II.     SCENE  I.  75 

And,  if  he  speak  of  Buckingham,  pray  tell  him, 

You  met  him  half  in  heaven.     My  vows  and  prayers 

Yet  are  the  king's,  and,  till  my  soul  forsake, 

Shall  cry  for  blessings  on  him  ;  may  he  live  90 

Longer  than  I  have  time  to  tell  his  years ! 

Ever  belov'd  and  loving  may  his  rule  be ! 

And  when  oJd  Time  shall  lead  him  to  his  end, 

Goodness  and  he  fill  up  one  monument ! 

LovfJl.  'To  the  water  side  I  must  conduct  your  grace ; 
Then  give  my  charge  up  to  Sir  Nicholas  Vaux, 
Who  undertakes  you  to  your  end. 

Vaux.  Prepare  there ! 

The  duke  is  coming ;  see  the  barge  be  ready, 
And  fit  it  with  such  furniture  as  suits 
The  greatness  of  his  person. 

Buckingham.  Nay,  Sir  Nicholas,  100 

Let  it  alone  ;  my  state  now  will  but  mock  me. 
When  I  came  hither,  I  was  Lord  High  Constable 
And  Duke  of  Buckingham,  now  poor  Edward  Bohun  ; 
Yet  I  am  richer  than  my  base  accusers, 
That  never  knew  what  truth  meant.     I  now  seal  it, 
And  with  that  blood  will  make  'em  one  day  groan  for  't. 
My  noble  father,  Henry  of  Buckingham, 
Who  first  rais'd  head  against  usurping  Richard, 
Flying  for  succour  to  his  servant  Banister, 
Being  distress'd,  was  by  that  wretch  betray'd,  no 

And  without  trial  fell.     God's  peace  be  with  him! 
Henry  the  Seventh  succeeding,  truly  pitying 
My  father's  loss,  like  a  most  royal  prince, 
Restor'd  me  to  my  honouYs,  and  out  of  ruins 
Made  my  name  once  more  noble.     Now,  his  son, 
Henry  the  Eighth,  life,  honour,  name,  and  all 
That  made  me  happy,  at  one  stroke  has  taken 
Forever  from  the  world.     I  had  my  trial, 
And  must  needs  say  a  noble  one ;  which  makes  me 


7  6  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

A  little  happier  than  my  wretched  father  :  i» 

Yet  thus  far  we  are  one  in  fortunes, — both 

Fell  by  our  servants,  by  those  men  we  Irw'd  most ; 

A  most  unnatural  and  faithless  service! 

Heaven  has  an  end  in  all ;  yet,  you  that  hear  me, 

This  from  a  dying  man  receive  as  certain  : 

Where  you  are  liberal  of  your  loves  and  counsels, 

Be  sure  you  be  not  loose ;  for  those  you  make  friends, 

And  give  your  hearts  to,  when  they  once  perceive 

The  least  rub  in  your  fortunes,  fall  away 

Like  water  from  ye,  never  found  again  130 

But  where  they  mean  to  sink  ye.     All  good  people, 

Pray  for  me  !     I  must  now  forsake  ye  ;  the  last  hour 

Of  my  long  weary  life  is  come  upon  me. 

Farewell ;  and  when  you  would  say  something  that  is  sad, 

Speak  how  I  fell. — I  have  done,  and  God  forgive  me. 

[Exeunt  Buckingham,  etc. 

1  Gentleman.  O,  this  is  full  of  pity  ! — Sir,  it  calls, 
I  fear,  too  many  curses  on  their  heads 

That  were  the  authors. 

2  Gentleman.  If  the  duke  be  guiltless, 
'T  is  full  of  woe  :  yet  I  can  give  you  inkling 

Of  an  ensuing  evil,  if  it  fall,  i4< 

Greater  than  this. 

1  Gentleman.          Good  angels  keep  it  from  us  ! 
What  may  it  be  ?     You  do  not  doubt  my  faith,  sir? 

2  Gentleman.  This  secret  is  so  weighty,  't  will  require 
A  strong  faith  to  conceal  it. 

1  Gentleman.  Let  me  have  it  : 
I  do  not  talk  much. 

2  Gentleman.  I  am  confident; 

You  shall,  sir.     Did  you  not  of  late  days  hear 
A  buzzing  of  a  separation 
Between  the  king  and  Katherine? 

i  Gentleman.  Yes,  but  it  held  not ; 


ACT  II.     SCENE  II. 


77 


For  when  the  king  once  heard  it,  out  of  anger 

He  sent  command  to  the  lord  mayor  straight  iy- 

To  stop  the  rumour,  and  allay  those  tongues 

That  durst  disperse  it. 

2  Gentleman.  But  that  slander,  sir, 

Is  found  a  truth  now ;  for  it  grows  again 
Fresher  than  e'er  it  was,  and  held  for  certain 
The  king  will  venture  at  it.     Either  the  cardinal, 
Or  some  about  him  near,  have,  out  of  malice 
To  the  good  queen,  possess'd  him  with  a  scruple 
That  will  undo  her :  to  confirm  this,  too, 
Cardinal  Campeius  is  arriv'd,  and  lately; 
As  all  think,  for  this  business. 

1  Gentleman.  'T  is  the  cardinal ;  160 
And  merely  to  revenge  him  on  the  emperor 

For  not  bestowing  on  him,  at  his  asking, 
The  archbishopric  of  Toledo,  this  is  purpos'd. 

2  Gentleman.  I  think  you  have  hit  the  mark  ;  but  is  't  not 

cruel 

That  she  should  feel  the  smart  of  this  ?    The  cardinal 
Will  have  his  will,  and  she  must  fall. 

i  Gentleman.  'T  is  woeful. 

We  are  too  open  here  to  argue  this ; 
Let 's  think  in  private  more.  \Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.     An  Ante-chamber  in  the  Palace. 
Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  reading  a  letter. 
Chamberlain.     '  My  Lord, — The  horses  your  lordship  sent 
for,  with  all  the  care  I  had,  I  saw  well  chosen,  ridden,  and 
furnished.     They  were  young  and  handsome,  and  of  the  best 
breed  in  the  North.      When  they  were  ready  to  set  out  for  Lon- 
don, a  man  of  my  lord  cardinal's,  by  commission  and  main 
power,  took  'em  from  me  ;  with  this  reason,— >•  his  master  would 
be  served  before  a  subject,  if  not  before  the  king ;  which  stopped 
our  mouths,  sir' 


7 8  KING   HENRY    I' I II. 

I  fear  he  will  indeed.     Well,  let  him  have  them ; 

He  will  have  all,  I  think.  10 

Enter  the  DUKES  OF  NORFOLK  and  SUFFOLK. 

Norfolk.  Well  met,  my  lord  chamberlain. 

Chamberlain.  Good  day  to  both  your  graces. 

Suffolk.   How  is  the  king  employ'd? 

Chamberlain.  I  left  him  private, 

Full  of  sad  thoughts  and  troubles. 

Norfolk.  What 's  the  cause  ? 

Chamberlain.  It  seems  the  marriage  with  his  brother's  wife 
Has  crept  too  near  his  conscience. 

Suffolk.  No  ;  his  conscience 

Has  crept  too  near  another  lady. 

Norfolk.  T  is  so. 

This  is  the  cardinal's  doing,  the  king-cardinal ; 
That  blind  priest,  like  the  eldest  son  of  fortune, 
Turns  what  he  list.     The  king  will  know  him  one  day.        20 

Suffolk.  Pray  God  he  do  !  he  '11  never  know  himself  else. 

Norfolk.  How  holily  he  works  in  all  his  business, 
And  with  what  zeal !  for,  now  he  has  crack'd  the  league 
Between  us  and  the  emperor,  the  queen's  great  nephew, 
He  dives  into  the  king's  soul,  and  there  scatters 
Dangers,  doubts,  wringing  of  the  conscience, 
Fears  and  despairs, — and  all  these  for  his  marriage. 
And  out  of  all  these  to  restore  the  king, 
He  counsels  a  divorce  :  a  loss  of  her 

That  like  a  jewel  has  hung  twenty  years  30 

About  his  neck,  yet  never  lost  her  lustre  ; 
Of  her  that  loves  him  with  that  excellence 
That  angels  love  good  men  with  ;  even  of  her 
That,  when  the  greatest  stroke  of  fortune  falls, 
Will  bless  the  king.     And  is  not  this  course  pious? 

Chamberlain.  Heaven  keep  me  from  such  counsel !     'T  is 
most  true, 


ACT  U.    SCE<\E  //.  .  79 

These  news  are  every  where ;  every  tongue  speaks  'em, 
And  every  true  heart  weeps  for  't.     All  that  daie 
Look  into  these  affairs  see  this  main  end, — 
The  French  king's  sister.     Heaven  will  one  day  open         4* 
The  king's  eyes,  that  so  long  have  slept  upon 
This  bold  bad  man. 

Suffolk.  And  free  us  from  his  slavery. 

Norfolk.  We  had  need  pray, 
And  heartily,  for  our  deliverance, 
Or  this  imperious  man  will  work  us  all 
From  princes  into  pages.     All  men's  honours 
Lie  like  one  lump  before  him,  to  be  fashion'd 
Into  what  pitch  l.e  please. 

Suffolk.  For  me,  my  lords, 

I  love  him  ngt,  nor  fear  him  ;  there  's  my  creed. 
As  I  am  made  without  him,  so  I  '11  stand,  50 

If  the  king  please  :  his  curses  and  his  blessings 
Touch  me  alike ;  they  're  breath  I  not  believe  in. 
I  knew  him  and-I  know  him  ;  so  I  leave  him 
To  him  that  made  him  proud,  the  pope. 

Norfolk.  Let 's  in, 

And  with  some  other  business  put  the  king 
From  these  sad  thoughts,  that  work  too  much  upon  him. — 
My  lord,  you  '11  bear  us  company  ? 

Chamberlain.  Excuse  me ; 

The  king  hath  sent  me  other  where  :  besides, 
You  '11  find  a  most  unfit  time  to  disturb  him. 
Health  to  your  lordships. 

Norfolk.  Thanks,  my  good  lord  chamberlain.  60 

[Exit  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Norfolk  draws  a  curtain.      The  King  is  discovered  sitting,  and 

reading  pensively. 

Suffolk.   How  sad  he  looks  !  sure,  he  is  much  afflicted. 
King  Henry.  Who  is  there  ?  ha  ! 


8o  .  KiNG  HENRY  VIIL 

Norfolk.  Pray  God  he  be  not  angry  ! 

King  Henry.  Who's  there,  I  say?     How  dare  you  thrust 

yourselves 

Tnto  my  private  meditations? 
Who  am  1  ?  ha  ! 

Norfolk.  A  gracious  king,  that  pardons  all  offences 
Malice  ne'er  meant  ;  our  breach  of  duty  this  way 
Is  business  of  estate,  in  which  we  come 
To  know  your  royal  pleasure. 

King  Henry.  Ye  are  too  bold. 

Go  to  ;  I  '11  make  ye  know  your  times  of  business :  70 

Is  this  an  hour  for  temporal  affairs  ?  ha  !— 

Enter  WOLSEY  and  CAMPEIUS. 

Who  's  there  ?  my  good  lord  cardinal  ? — O,  my  Wolsey, 
The  quiet  of  my  wounded  conscience  ; 
Thou  art  a  cure  fit  for  a  king. — You  're  welcome, 

[To  Campeius. 

Most  learned  reverend  sir,  into  our  kingdom  : 
Use  us  and  it.— [To  Wolsey]    My  good  lord,  have  great  care 
I  be  not  found  a  talker. 

Wolsey.  Sir,  you  cannot. 

I  would  your  grace  would  give  us  but  an  hour 
Of  private  conference. 

King  Henry.  [  To  Norfolk  and  Suffolk]  We  are  busy ;  go. 

Norfolk.  [Aside,  as  they  retire]  This  priest  has  no  pride  in 
him. 

Suffolk.  Not  to  speak  of;  80 

I  would  not  be  so  sick  though  for  his  place. 
But  this  cannot  continue. 

Norfolk.  If  it  do, 

I  '11  venture  one  have-at-him. 

Suffolk.  I  another. 

[Exeunt  Norfolk  and  Suffolk- 

Wolsey.  Your  grace  has  given  a  precedent  of  wisdom 


ACT  //.     SCEXK    //.  8 1 

Above  all  princes,  in  committing  freely 

Your  scruple  to  the  voice  of  Christendom. 

Who  can  be  angry  now?  what  envy  reach  you? 

The  Spaniard,  tied  by  blood  and  favour  to  her, 

Must  now  confess,  if  they  have  any  goodness, 

The  trial  just  and  noble.     All  the  clerks,  90 

I  mean  the  learned  ones,  in  Christian  kingdoms 

Gave  their  free  voices.     Rome,  the  nurse  of  judgment, 

Invited  by  your  noble  self,  hath  sent 

One  general  tongue  unto  us,  this  good  man, 

This  just  and  learned  priest,  Cardinal  Campeius, 

Whom  once  more  I  present  unto  your  highness. 

King  Henry.  And  once  more  in  mine  arms  I  bid  him  wel- 
come, 

And  thank  the  holy  conclave  for  their  loves; 
They  have  sent  me'such  a  man  I  would  have  wish'd  for. 

Campeius.  Your  grace  must  needs  deserve  all  strangers' 
loves,  ioo 

You  are  so  noble.     To  your  highness'  hand 
I  tender  my  commission, — by  whose  virtue — 
The  court  of  Rome  commanding — you,  my  Lord 
Cardinal  of  York,  are  join'd  with  me  their  servant 
In  the  unpartial  judging  of  this  business. 

King  Henry.  Two  equal  men.     The  queen  shall  be  ac- 
quainted 
Forthwith  for  what  you  come. — Where  's  Gardiner? 

Wolsey.  I  know  your  majesty  has  always  lov'd  her 
So  dear  in  heart,  not  to  deny  her  that 

A  woman  of  less  place  might  ask  by  law, —  no 

Scholars,  allow'd  freely  to  argue  for  her. 

King  Henry.  Ay,  and  the  best  she  shall  have ;  and  my  fa- 
vour 

To  him  that  does  best :  God  forbid  else  !     Cardinal, 
Prithee,  call  Gardiner  to  me,  my  new  secretary ; 
I  find  him  a  fit  fellow.  [Exit  Wolsey. 

F 


82  XING  HENRY   VIII. 

Enter  WOLSEY,  with  GARDINER. 

Wolsey.  Give   me  your  hand;    much  joy  and  favour  to 

you : 
You  are  the  king's  now. 

Gardiner.  [Aside  to  Wolsey]  But  to  be  commanded 
For  ever  by  your  grace,  whose  hand  has  rais'd  me. 

King  Henry.  Come  hither,  Gardiner. 

[  They  walk  and  whisper. 

Campeius.  My  Lord  of  York,  was  not  one  Doctor  Pace    120 
In  this  man's  place  before  him? 

Wolsey.  Yes,  he  was. 

Campeius.  Was  he  not  held  a  learned  man  ? 

Wolsey.  .Yes,  surely. 

Campeius.  Believe  me,  there  's  an  ill  opinion  spread,  then, 
Even  of  yourself,  lord  cardinal. 

Wolsey.  How  of  me  ? 

Campeius.  They  will  not  stick  to  say  you  envied  him, 
And  fearing  he  would  rise,  he  was  so  virtuous, 
Kept  him  a  foreign  man  still ;  which  so  griev'd  him 
That  he  ran  mad  and  died. 

Wolsey.  Heaven's  peace  be  with  him  ! 

That 's  Christian  care  enough  ;  for  living  murmurers 
There  's  places  of  rebuke.     He  was  a  fool,  130 

For  he  would  needs  be  virtuous:  that  good  fellow, 
If  I  command  him,  follows  my  appointment ; 
I  will  have  none  so  near  else.     Learn  this,  brother, 
We  live  not  to  be  grip'cl  by  meaner  persons. 

King  Henry.  Deliver  this  with  modesty  to  the  queen. — 

[Exit  Gardiner. 

The  most  convenient  place  that  I  can  think  of, 
For  such  receipt  of  learning,  is  Black-friars  ; 
There  ye  shall  meet  about  this  weighty  business. — 
My  Wolsey,  see  it  furnish'd. — O  my  lord ! 
Would  it  not  grieve  an  able  man  to  leave  140 


ACT  IL    SCENE  HI.  83 

So  sweet  a  bedfellow?     But  conscience,  conscience, — 

O,  't  is  a  tender  place  !  and  I  must  leave  her.  {Exeunt. 

SCENE  III.     An  Ante-chamber  in  the  Queen's  Apartments. 
Enter  ANNE  BULLEN  and  an  Old  Lady. 

Anne.  Not  for  that  neither; — here 's  the  pang  that  pinches: 
His  highness  having  liv'd  so  long  with  her,  and  she 
So  good  a  lady,  that  no  tongue  could  ever 
Pronounce  dishonour  of  her, — by  my  life, 
She  never  knew  harm-doing  ; — O,  now,  after 
So  many  courses  of  the  sun  enthron'd, 
Still  growing  in  a  majesty  and  pomp,  the  which 
To  leave  a  thousand-fold  more  bitter  than 
T  is  sweet  at  first  to  acquire,  after  this  process, 
To  give  her  the  avaunt !  it  is  a  pity  to 

Would  move  a  monster. 

Old  Lady.  Hearts  of  most  hard  temper 

Melt  and  lament  for  her. 

Anne.  O,  God's  will  !  much  better 

She  ne'er  had  known  pomp  ;  though  't  be  temporal, 
Yet  if  that  quarrel,  Fortune,  do  divorce 
It  from  the  bearer,  't  is  a  sufferance  panging 
As  soul  and  body's  severing. 

Old  Lady.  Alas,  poor  lady ! 

She  's  a  stranger  now  again. 

Anne.  So  much  the  more 

Must  pity  drop  upon  her.     Verily, 
I  swear  't  is  better  to  be  lowly  born, 
And  range  with  humble  livers  in  content, 
Than  to  be  perk'd  up  in  a  glistering  grief, 
And  wear  a  golden  sorrow. 

Old  Lady.  Our  content 

Is  our  best  having. 

Anne.  By  my  troth  and  maidenhead, 

I  would  not  be  a  queen. 


84  KING  HENRY   VIII. 

Old  Lady.  Beshrew  me,  I  would, 

And  venture  maidenhead  for  't  ;  and  so  would  you, 
For  all  this  spice  of  your  hypocrisy. 
You  that  have  so  fair  parts  of  woman  on  you, 
Have,  too,  a  woman's  heart,  which  ever  yet 
Affected  eminence,  wealth,  sovereignty  : 
Which,  to  say  sooth,  are  blessings  ;  and  which  gifts —          30 
Saving  your  mincing — the  capacity 
Of  your  soft  cheveril  conscience  would  receive, 
If  you  might  please  to  stretch  it. 

Anne.  Nay,  good  troth, — 

Old  Lady.  Yes,  troth,  and  troth.  —  You  would   not  be  a 
queen? 

Anne.  No,  not  for  all  the  riches  under  heaven. 

Old  Lady.  T  is  strange ;  a  three-pence  bow'd  would  hire  me, 
Old  as  I  am,  to  queen  it.     But,  I  pray  you, 
What  think  you  of  a  duchess  ?     Have  you  limbs 
To  bear  that  load  of  title  ? 

Anne.  No,  in  truth. 

Old  Lady.  Then  you  are  weakly  made.     Pluck  off  a  little  : 
I  would  not  be  a  young  count  in  your  way,  41 

For  more  than  blushing  comes  to. 

Anne.  How  you  do  talk  ! 

I  swear  again,  I  would  not  be  a  queen 
For  all  the  world. 

Old  Lady.  In  faith,  for  little  England 

You'd  venture  an  emballing  ;  I  myself 
Would  for  Carnarvonshire,  although  there  long'd 
No  more  to  the  crown  but  that. — Lo,  who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 
Chamberlain.  Good  morrow,  ladies.     What  were  't  worth 

.to  know 
The  secret  of  your  conference  ? 

Anne.  My  good  lord, 


ACT  //.     SCE\K    III.  85 

Not  your  demand  ;  it  values  not  your  asking.  50 

Our  mistress'  sorrows  we  were  pitying.  . 

Chamberlain.  It  was  a  gentle  business,  and  becoming 
The  action  of  good  women  ;  there  is  hope 
All  will  be  well. 

Anne.  Now,  I  pray  God,  amen  ! 

Chamberlain.  You  bear  a  gentle  mind,  and  heavenly  bless 

ings 

Follow  such  creatures.     That  you  may,  fair  lady, 
Perceive  I  speak  sincerely,  and  high  note  's 
Ta'en  of  your  many  virtues,  the  king's  majesty 
Commends  his  good  opinion  to  you,  and 
Does  purpose  honour  to  you  no  less  flowing  60 

Than  Marchioness  of  Pembroke  ;  to  which  title 
A  thousand  pound  a  year,  annual  support, 
Out  of  his  grace  he  adds. 

Anne.  I  do  not  know 

What  kind  of  my  obedience  I  should  tender. 
More  than  my  all  is  nothing;  nor  my  prayers 
Are  not  words  duly  hallow'd,  nor  my  wishes 
More  worth  than  empty  vanities :  yet  prayers  and  wishes 
Are  all  I  can  return.     Beseech  your  lordship, 
Vouchsafe  to  speak  my  thanks,  and  my  obedience, 
As  from  a  blushing  handmaid,  to  his  highness,  70 

Whose  health  and  royalty  I  pray  for. 

Chamberlain.  Lady, 

I  shall  not  fail  to  approve  the  fair  conceit 
The  king  hath  of  you. — \Aside\  I  have  perus'd  her  well  : 
Beauty  and  honour  in  her  are  so  mingled, 
That  they  have  caught  the  king  ;  and  who  knows  yet, 
But  from  this  lady  may  proceed  a  gem 
To  lighten  all  this  isle?— [To  her}  I  '11  to  the  king, 
And  say  I  spoke  with  you. 

Anne.  My  honour'd  lord. 

[Exit  Lord  Chamberlain. 


86  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

Old  Lady.  Why,  this  it  is  ;  see,  see  ! 

[  have  been  begging' sixteen  years  in  court —  80 

Am  yet  a  courtier  beggarly, — nor  could 
Come  pat  betwixt  too  early  and  too  late, 
For  any  suit  of  pounds  ;  and  you,  O  fate  ! 
A  very  fresh-fish  here, — fie,  fie  upon 
This  compell'd  fortune ! — have  your  mouth  fill'd  up 
Before  you  open  it. 

Anne.  This  is  strange  to  me. 

Old  Lady.  How  tastes  it?  is  it  bitter?  forty  pence,  no. 
There  was  a  lady  once — 't  is  an  old  story — 
That  would  not  be  a  queen,  that  would  she  not, 
For  all  the  mud  in  Egypt : — have  you  heard  it  ?  90 

Anne.  Come,  you  are  pleasant. 

Old  Lady.  With  your  theme  1  could 

O'ermount  the  lark.     The  Marchioness  of  Pembroke! 
A  thousand  pounds  a  year ! — for  pure  respect ; 
No  other  obligation  !     By  my  life, 
That  promises  moe  thousands ;  honour's  train 
Is  longer  than  his  foreskin.     By  this  time 
I  know  your  back  will  bear  a  duchess. — Say, 
Are  you  not  stronger  than  you  were  ? 

Anne.  Good  lady, 

Make  yourself  mirth  with  your  particular  fancy, 
And  leave  me  out  on  't.     Would  I  had  no  being,  100 

If  this  salute  my  blood  a  jot !  it  faints  me 
To  think  what  follows. — 
The  queen  is  comfortless,  and  we  forgetful 
In  our  long  absence.     Pray  do  not  deliver 
What  here  you  've  heard  to  her. 

Old  Lady.  What  do  you  think  me  ? 

{Exeunt 


ACT  IL    SCEi\E  jy.  87 

SCENE  IV.     A  Hall  in  Black-friars. 

Trumpets,  sennet,  and  cornets.  Enter  two  Vergers,  with  short 
silver  wands;  next  them,  two  Scribes,  in  the  habit  of  doctors : 
after  them,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  alone ;  after  him, 
•  the  Bishops  of  Lincoln,  Ely,  Rochester,  and  Saint  Asaph  ; 
next  them,  with  some  small  distance,  follows  a  Gentleman 
bearing  the  purse,  with  the  great  seal,  and  a  cardinal's  hat ; 
then  two  Priests,  bearing  each  a  silver  cross ;  then  a  Gentle- 
man-Usher bare-headed,  accompanied  with  a  Sergeant  -  at- 
Arms,  bearing  a  silver  mace ;  then  two  Gentlemen,  bearing 
two  great  silver  pillars  ;  after  them,  side  by  side,  the  two  Car- 
dinals, WOLSEY  and  CAMPEIUS  ;  two  Noblemen  with  the 
sword  and  mace.  Then  enter  the  King  with  his  train,  fol- 
lowed by  the  Queen  with  hers.  The  King  takes  place  under 
the  cloth  of  state;  the  two  Cardinals  sit  under  him  as  judges. 
The  Queen  takes  place  at  some  distance  from  the  King.  The 
Bishops  place  themselves  on  each  side  the  court,  in  manner  of 
a  consistory ;  below  them,  the  Scribes.  The  Lords  sit  next 
the  Bishops.  The  rest  of  the  Attendants  stand  in  convenient 
order  about  the  stage. 

Wolsey.  Whilst  our  commission  from  Rome  is  read, 
Let  silence  be  commanded. 

King  Henry.  What 's  the  need  ? 

It  hath  already  publicly  been  read, 
And  on  all  sides  the  authority  allow'd  ; 
You  may,  then,  spare  that  time. 

Wolsey.  Be  't  so.— Proceed. 

Scribe.  Say,  Henry,  King  of  England,  come  into  the  court. 

Crier.   Henry,  King  of  England,  come  into  the  court. 

King  Htnry.  Here. 

Scribe.  Say,  Katherine,  Queen  of  England,  come  into  the 
court.  '° 

Crier.  Katherine,  Queen  of  England,  come  into  the  court. 
\The  Queen  makes  no  answer,  rises  out  of  her  chair,  goes 


88'  KING  HENRY  VI I  I. 

about  the  court,  comes  to  the  King,  and  kneels  at  his 

feet ;  then  speaks. 

Queen  Katherine.  Sir,  I  desire  you  do  me  right  and  justice, 
And  to  bestow  your  pity  on  me  ;  for 
I  am  a  most  poor  woman,  and  a  stranger, 
Born  out  of  your  dominions,  having  here 
No  judge  indifferent,  nor  no  more  assurance   . 
Of  equal  friendship  and  proceeding.     Alas,  sir, 
In  what  have  I  offended  you  ?  what  cause 
Hath  my  behaviour  given  to  your  displeasure, 
That  thus  you  should  proceed  to  put  me  off,  20 

And  take  your  good  grace  from  me?     Heaven  witness 
I  have  been  to  you  a  true  and  humble  wife, 
At  all  times  to  your  will  conformable : 
Ever  in  fear  to  kindle  your  dislike, 
Yea,  subject  to  your  countenance  ;  glad  or  sorry, 
As  I  saw  it  inclin'd.     When  was  the  hour 
I  ever  contradicted  your  desire, 

Or  made  it  not  mine  too?     Or  which  of  your  friends 
Have  I  not  strove  to  love,  although  I  knew 
He  were  mine  enemy?  what  friend  of  mine,  30 

That  had  to  him  deriv'd  your  anger,  did  I 
Continue  in  my  liking?  nay,  gave  notice 
He  was  from  thence  discharg'd.     Sir,  call  to  mind 
That  I  have  been  your  wife,  in  this  obedience, 
Upward  of  twenty  years,  and  have  been  blest 
With  many  children  by  you.     If  in  the  course 
And  process  of  this  time,  you  can  report, 
And  prove  it  too,  against  mine  honour  aught, 
My  bond  to  wedlock,  or  my  love  and  duty, 
Against  your  sacred  person,  in  God's  name,  4° 

Turn  me  away ;  and  let  the  foul'st  contempt 
Shut  door  upon  me,  and  so  give  me  up 
To  the  sharp'st  kind  of  justice.     Please  you,  sir, 
The  king,  your  father,  was  reputed  for 


ACT  II.    SCENE  IV.  89 

A  prince  most  prudent,  of  an  excellent 

And  unmatched  wit  and  judgment;  Ferdinand, 

My  father,  King  of  Spain,  was  reckon'd  one 

The  wisest  prince  that  there  had  reign'd  by  many 

A  year  before  :  it  is  not  to  be  question'd 

That  they  had  gather'd  a  wise  council  to  them  50 

Of  every  realm,  that  did  debate  this  business, 

Who  deem'd  our  marriage  lawful.     Wherefore  I  humbly 

Beseech  you,  sir,  to  spare  me,  till  I  may 

Be  by  my  friends  in  Spain  advis'd,  whose  counsel 

I  will  implore  ;  if  not,  i'  the  name  of  God, 

Your  pleasure  be  fulfill'd  ! 

Wolsey.  You  have  here,  lady, — 

And  of  your  choice, — these  reverend  fathers  ;  men 
Of  singular  integrity  and  learning, 
Yea,  the  elect  o'  the  land,  who  are  assembled 
To  plead  your  cause.     It  shall  be  therefore  bootless  60 

That  longer  you  desire  the  court,  as  well 
For  your  own  quiet  as  to  rectify 
What  is  unsettled  in  the  king. 

Campeius.  His  grace 

Hath  spoken  well  and  justly;  therefore,  madam, 
It 's  fit  this  royal  session  do  proceed, 
And  that  without  delay  their  arguments 
Be  now  produc'd  and  heard. 

Queen  Katherine.  Lord  cardinal, 

To  you  I  speak. 

Wolsey.  Your  pleasure,  madam  ? 

Queen  Katherine.  Sir, 

I  am  about  to  weep  ;  but,  thinking  that 
We  are  a  queen — or  long  have  dream'd  so, — certain  ^ 

The  daughter  of  a  king,  my  drops  of  tears 
I  '11  turn  to  sparks  of  fire. 

Wolsty.  Be  patient  yet. 

Queen  Katherim.  I  will,  when  you  are  humble  ;  nay,  before, 


9o  KING  HENRY  VIIL 

Or  God  will  punish  me.     I  do  believe, 

Induc'd  by  potent  circumstances,  that 

You  are  mine  enemy,  and  make  my  challenge 

You  shall  not  be  my  judge  ;  for  it  is  you 

Have  blown  this  coal  betwixt  my  lord  and  me, — 

Which  God's  dew  quench  ! — Therefore,  I  say  again, 

I  utterly  abhor,  yea,  from  my  soul,  is 

Refuse  you  for  my  judge  ;  whom,  yet  once  more, 

I  hold  my  most  malicious  foe,  and  think  not 

At  all  a  friend  to  truth. 

Wolsey.  I  do  profess 

You  speak  not  like  yourself;  who  ever  yet 
Have  stood  to  charity,  and  display'd  the  effects 
Of  disposition  gentle,  and  of  wisdom 
O'ertopping  woman's  power.     Madam,  you  do  me  wrong; 
I  have  no  spleen  against  you,  nor  injustice 
For  you  or  any :  how  far  I  have  proceeded, 
Or  how  far  further  shall,  is  warranted  9° 

By  a  commission  from  the  consistory, 
Yea,  the  whole  consistory  of  Rome.     You  charge  me 
That  I  have  blown  this  coal ;  I  do  deny  it. 
The  king  is  present ;  if  it  be  known  to  him 
That  I  gainsay  my  deed,  how  may  he  wound, 
And  worthily,  my  falsehood  !  yea,  as  much 
As  you  have  done  my  truth.     If  he  know 
That  I  am  free  of  your  report,  he  knows 
I  am  not  of  your  wrong.     Therefore,  in  him 
It  lies  to  cure  me  ;  and  the  cure  is  to  i<x> 

Remove  these  thoughts  from  you  :  the  which  before 
His  highness  shall  speak  in,  I  do  beseech 
You,  gracious  madam,  to  unthink  your  speaking, 
And  to  say  so  no  more. 

Queen  Katherhic.  My  lord,  my  lord, 

I  am  a  simple  woman,  much  too  weak 
T'  oppose  your  cunning.    You  're  meek  and  humble-mouth'd ; 


ACT  //.     SCEA'E  iy.  g, 

You  sign  your  place  and  calling  in  full  seeming, 

With  meekness  and  humility,  but  your  heart 

Is  cramm'd  with  arrogancy,  spleen,  and  pride. 

You  have,  by  fortune  and  his  highness'  favours,  «o 

Gone  slightly  o'er  low  steps,  and  now  are  mounted 

Where  powers  are  your  retainers  ;  and  your  words, 

Domestics  to  you,  serve  your  will  as  't  please 

Yourself  pronounce  their  office.     I  must  tell  you, 

You  tender  more  your  person's  honour  than 

Your  high  profession  spiritual ;  that  again 

I  do  refuse  you  for  my  judge,  and  here, 

Before  you  all,  appeal  unto  the  pope, 

To  bring  my  whole  cause  fore  his  holiness, 

And  to  be  judg'd  by  him. 

\Sfte  curtsies  to  the  King,  and  offers  to  depart. 

Campeius.  The  queen  is  obstinate,  120 

Stubborn  to  justice,  apt  to  accuse  it,  and 
Disdainful  to  be  tried  by  't ;  't  is  not  well. 
She  's  going  away. 

King  Henry.  Call  her  again. 

Crier.  Katherine,  Queen  of  England,  come  into  the  court. 

Griffith.   Madam,  you  are  call'd  back. 

Queen  Katherine.  What  need  you  note  it?  pray  you,  keep 

your  way ; 

When  you  are  call'd,  return. — Now  the  Lord  help! 
They  vex  me  past  my  patience. — Pray  you,  pass  on  , 
I  will  not  tarry,  no,  nor  ever  more  130 

Upon  this  business  my  appearance  make 
In  any  of  their  courts.       {Exeunt  Queen  and  her  Attendants. 

King  Henry.  Go  thy  ways,  Kate  : 

That  man  i'  the  world  who  shall  report  he  has 
A  better  wife,  let  him  in  naught  be  trusted, 
For  speaking  false  in  that.     Thou  art  alone — 
If  thy  rare  qualities,  sweet  gentleness, 
Thy  meekness  saint-like,  wife-like  government, 


92  KING   HEiVKY  VII L 

Obeying  in  commanding,  and  thy  parts 

Sovereign  and  pious  else,  could  speak  thee  out — 

The  queen  of  earthly  queens. — She  's  noble  born,  14° 

And  like  her  true  nobility  she  has 

Carried  herself  towards  me. 

Wolsey.  Most  gracious  sir, 

In  humblest  manner  I  require  your  highness 
That  it  shall  please  you  to  declare,  in  hearing 
Of  all  these  ears — for  where  I  am  robb'd  and  bound, 
There  must  I  be  unloosed,  although  not  there 
At  once  and  fully  satisfied — whether  ever  I 
Did  broach  this  business  to  your  highness,  or 
Laid  any  scruple  in  your  way  which  might 
Induce  you  to  the  question  on  't,  or  ever  <so 

Have  to  you,  but  with  thanks  to  God  for  such 
A  royal  lady,  spake  one  the  least  word  that  might 
Be  to  the  prejudice  of  her  present  state, 
Or  touch  of  her  good  person. 

King  Henry.  My  lord  cardinal, 

I  do  excuse  you  ;  yea,  upon  mine  honour, 
I  free  you  from  't.     You  are  not  to  be  taught 
That  you  have  many  enemies,  that  know  not 
Why  they  are  so,  but,  like  to  village  curs, 
Bark  when  their  fellows  do  ;  by  some  of  these 
The  queen  is  put  in  anger.     You  're  excus'd  ;  160 

But  will  you  be  more  justified?  you  ever 
Have  wish'd  the  sleeping  of  this  business,  never 
Desir'd  it  to  be  stirr'd,  but  oft  have  hinder'd,  oft. 
The  passages  made  toward  it. — On  my  honour, 
I  speak  my  good  lord  cardinal  to  this  point, 
And  thus  far  clear  him.     Now,  what  mov'd  me  to  't, 
I  will  be  bold  with  time  and  your  attention  : — 
Then  mark  the  inducement.     Thus  it  came;  give  heed  to  't. 
My  conscience  first  received  a  tenderness, 
Scruple,  and  prick,  on  certain  speeches  uttered  »?o 


ACT  IL    SCENE   II'.  93 

By  the  Bishop  of  Bayonne,  then  French  ambassador. 

Who  had  been  hither  sent  on  the  debating 

A  marriage  'twixt  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and 

Our  daughter  Mary.     V  the  progress  of  this  business, 

Ere  a  determinate  resolution,  he  — 

I  mean  the  bishop — did  require  a  respite, 

Wherein  he  might  the  king  his  lord  advertise 

Whether  our  daughter  were  legitimate. 

Respecting  this  our  marriage  with  the  dowager, 

Sometimes  our  brother's  wife.     This  respite  shook  180 

The  bosom  of  my  conscience,  enter'd  me, 

Yea,  with  a  splitting  power,  and  made  to  tremble 

The  region  of  my  breast ;  which  forc'd  such  way, 

That  many  maz'd  considerings  did  throng, 

And  press'd  in  with  this  caution.     First,  methought 

This  was  a  judgment  on  me;  that  my  kingdom, 

Well  worthy  the  best  heir  o1  the  world,  should  not 

Be  gladded  in  \  by  me.     Then  follows,  that 

I  weigh'd  the  danger  which  my  realms  stood  in 

By  this  my  issue's  fail ;  and  that  gave  to  me  190 

Many  a  groaning  throe.     Thus  hulling  in 

The  wild  sea  of  my  conscience,  I  did  steer 

Toward  this  remedy  whereupon  we  are 

Now  present  here  together  ;  that 's  to  say, 

I  meant  to  rectify  my  conscience, — which 

I  then  did  feel  full  sick,  and  yet  not  well, — 

By  all  the  reverend  fathers  of  the  land 

And  doctors  learn'd. — First,  I  began  in  private 

With  you,  my  Lord  of  Lincoln  ;  you  remember 

How  under  my  oppression  I  did  reek  200 

When  I  first  mov'd  you. 

Lincoln,  Very  well,  my  liege. 

Kin%  Henry.  I  have  spoke  long ;  be  pleas'd  yourself  to  say 
How  far  you  satisfied  me. 

Lincoln.  So  please  your  highness, 


94 


KING  HENRY  VIII. 


The  question  did  at  first  so  stagger  me, — 
Bearing  a  state  of  mighty  moment  in  't, 
And  consequence  of  dread, — that  I  committed 
The  daring'st  counsel  which  I  had  to  doubt, 
And  did  entreat  your  highness  to  this  course 
-Which  you  are  running  here. 

King  Henry.  I  then  mov'd  you, 

My  Lord  of  Canterbury,  and  got  your  leave  *io 

To  make  this  present  summons. — Unsolicited 
I  left  no  reverend  person  in  this  court, 
But  by  particular  consent  proceeded 
Under  your  hands  and  seals :  therefore,  go  on  ; 
For  no  dislike  i'  the  world  against  the  person 
Of  the  good  queen,  but  the  sharp  thorny  points 
Of  my  alleged  reasons  drives  this  forward. 
Prove  but  our  marriage  lawful, — by  my  life 
And  kingly  dignity,  we  are  contented 

To  wear  our  mortal  state  to  come  with  her,  220 

Katherine  our  queen,  before  the  primest  creature 
That 's  paragon'd  o'  the  world. 

Campeius.  So  please  your  highness, 

The  queen  being  absent,  't  is  a  needful  fitness 
That  we  adjourn  this  court  till  further  day: 
Meanwhile  must  be  an  earnest  motion 
Made  to  the  queen,  to  call  back  her  appeal 
She  intends  unto  his  holiness. 

King  Henry.  [Aside]  I  may  perceive 

These  cardinals  trifle  with  me  ;  I  abhor 
This  dilatory  sloth  and  tricks  of  Rome. 
My  learn'd  and  well-beloved  servant,  Cranmer!  93, 

Prithee,  return  ;  with  thy  approach,  I  know, 
My  comfort  comes  along. — Break  up  the  court  ; 
I  say,  set  on.  [Exeunt  in  manner  as  they  entered 


PALACE    AT    BRIDEWELL. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  I.     The  Palace  at  Bridewell.     A  Room  in  the  Queen's 
Apartment. 

The  Queen  and  her  Women  at  work. 

Queen  Katherine.  Take  thy  lute,  wench :  my  soul  grows  saa 

with  troubles  ; 
Sing,  and  disperse  'em,  if  thou  canst.     Leave  working. 


9 6  KJNG  HENRY  VIII. 

Song. 

Orpheus  with  his  lute  made  trees, 
And  the  mountain-tops  that  freeze, 

Bow  themselves  when  he  did  sing : 
To  his  music  plants  and  flowers 
Ever  sprung,  as  sun  and  showers 

There  had  made  a  lasting  Spring. 

Every  thing  that  heard  him  play, 
Even  the  billows  of  the  sea, 

Hung  their  heads,  and  then  lay  by. 
In  sweet  music  is  such  art, 
Killing  care  and  grief  of  heart 

Fall  asleep,  or  hearing  die. 

Enter  a  Gentleman. 

Queen  Katherine.   How  now  ! 

Gentleman.  An  't  please  your  grace,  the  two  great  cardinals 
vVait  in  the  presence. 

Queen  Katherine.         Would  the}'  speak  with  me  ? 

Gentleman.  They  will'd  me  say  so,  madam. 

Queen  Katherine.  Pray  their  graces 

To  come  near.  \Exit  Gentleman.}  What  can  be  their  business 
With  me,  a  poor  weak  woman,  fallen  from  favour?  20 

I  do  not  like  their  coming,  now  I  think  on  't. 
They  should  be  good  men,  their  affairs  as  righteous  ; 
But  all  hoods  make  not  monks. 

Enter  WOLSEY  and  CAMPEIUS. 

Wolsty.  Peace  to  your  highness. 

Queen  Katherine.  Your  graces  find  me  here  part  of  a  house- 
wife; 

I  would  be  all,  against  the  worst  may  happen. 
What  are  your  pleasures  with  me,  reverend  lords? 


ACT  III.    SCENE   I.  97 

Wolsey.  May  it  please  yon,  noble  madam,  to  withdraw 
into  your  private  chamber,  we  shall  give  you 
The  full  cause  of  our  coming. 

Queen  Katherine.  Speak  it  here. 

There  's  nothing  I  have  done  yet,  o'  my  conscience,  30 

Deserves  a  corner;  would  all  other  women    . 
Could  speak  this  with  as  free  a  soul  as  I  do ! 
My  lords,  I  care  not — so  much  I  am  happy 
Above  a  number— if  my  actions 
\Yere  tried  by  every  tongue,  every  eye  saw  'em, 
Envy  and  base  opinion  set  against  'em, 
I  know  my  life  so  even.     If  your  business 
Seek  me  out,  and  that  way  I  am  wife  in, 
Out  with  it  boldly;  truth  loves  open  dealing. 

Wolsey.  Tanta  est  erga  te  mentis  integritas,  regina^serenis- 
sima, —  41 

Queen  Katherine.  O,  good  my  lord,  no  Latin  ! 
I  am  not  such  a  truant  since  my  coming 
As  not  to  know  the  language  I  have  liv'd  in: 
A  strange  tongue  makes  my  cause  more  strange,  suspicious ; 
Pray,  speak  in  English.     Here  are  some  will  thank  you, 
If  you  speak  truth,  for  their  poor  mistress'  sake: 
Believe  me,  she  has  had  much  wrong.     Lord  cardinal, 
The  willing'st  sin  I  ever  yet  committed 
May  be  absolv'd  in  English. 

Wolsey.  Noble  lady,  & 

l^am  sorry  my  integrity  should  breed — 
And  service  to  his  majesty  and  yoy — 
So  deep  suspicion  where  all  faith  was  meant. 
We  come  not  by  the  way  of  accusation, 
To  taint  that  'honour  every  good  tongue  blesses, 
Nor  to  betray  you  any  way  to  sorrow, — 
You  have  too  much,  good  lady  ;  but  to  know 
How  you  stand  minded  in  the  weighty  difference 
Between  the  king  and  you,  and  to  deliver, 

G 


9&  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

Like  free  and  honest  men,  our  just  opinions,  * 

And  comforts  to  your  cause. 

Campeius.  Most  honour'd  madam, 

My  Lord  of  York,  out  of  his  noble  nature, 
Zeal  and  obedience  he  still  bore  your  grace, 
Forgetting,  like  a  good  man,  your  late  censure 
Both  of  his  truth  and  him — which  was  too  far, — 
Offers,  as  I  do,  in  a  sign  of  peace; 
His  service  and  his  counsel. 

Queen  Katherine.  [Aside]       To  betray  me. — 
My  lords,  I  thank  you  both  for  your  good  wills ; 
Ye  speak  like  honest  men — pray  God  ye  prove  so ! — 
But  how  to  make  ye  suddenly  an  answer, 
In  such  a  point  of  weight  so  near  mine  honour — 
More  near  my  life,  I  fear — with  my  weak  wit, 
And  to  such  men  of  gravity  and  learning, 
In  truth,  I  know  not.     I  was  set  at  work 
Among  my  maids  ;  full  little,  God  knows,  looking 
Either  for  such  men  or  such  business. 
For  her  sake  that  I  have  been — for  I  feel 
The  last  fit  of  my  greatness, — good  your  graces, 
Let  me  have  time  and  counsel  for  my  cause. 
Alas,  I  am  a  woman,  friendless,  hopeless  !  so 

Wolsey.  Madam,  you  wrong  the  king's  love  with  these  rears; 
Your  hopes  and  friends  are  infinite. 

Queen  Katherine.  In  England, 

But  little  for  my  profit ;  can  you  think,  lords, 
That  any  Englishman  dare  give  me  counsel  ? 
Or  be  a  known  friend,  'gainst  his  highness'  pleasure, — 
Though  he  be  grown  so  desperate  to  be  honest, — 
And  live  a  subject?     Nay,  forsooth,  my  friends, 
They  that  must  weigh  out  my  afflictions, 
They  that  my  trust  must  grow  to,  live  not  here  ; 
They  are,  as  all  my  other  comforts,  far  hence, 
In  mine  own  country,  lords. 


ACT  III.    SCENE   /. 


99 


Camp  f jus.  I  would  your  grace 

Would  leave  your  griefs,  and  take  my  counsel. 

Queen  Katherine.  How,  sir  ? 

Campetus.  Put  your  main  cause  into  the  king's  protection  ; 
He  's  loving  and  most  gracious  :  't  will  be  much 
Both  for  your  honour  better  and  your  cause ; 
For  if  the  trial  of  the  law  o'ertake  ye, 
You  '11  part  away  disgrac'd. 

Wolsey.  He  tells  you  rightly. 

Queen  Katherine.  Ye  tell  me  what  ye  wish  for  both, — my 

ruin ! 

Is  this  your  Christian  counsel  ?  out  upon  ye  ! 
Heaven  is  above  all  yet ;  there  sits  a  Judge  100 

That  no  king  can  corrupt. 

Campeius.  Your  rage  mistakes  us. 

Queen  Katherine.    The  more  shame  for  ye !    holy  men   1 

thought  ye, 

Upon  my  soul,  two  reverend  cardinal  virtues  ; 
But  cardinal  sins,  and  hollow  hearts,  I  fear  ye. 
Mend  'em  for  shame,  my  lords.     Is  this  your  comfort? 
The  cordial  that  ye  bring  a  wretched  lady, — 
A  woman  lost  among  ye,  laugh'd  at,  scorn'd  ? 
I  will  not  wish  ye  half  my  miseries, 
I  have  more  charity;  but  say  I  warn'd  ye : 
Take  heed,  for  heaven's  sake,  take  heed,  lest  at  once          no 
The  burthen  of  my  sorrows  fall  upon  ye. 

Wolsey.  Madam,  this  is  a  mere  distraction  ; 
You  turn  the  good  we  offer  into  envy. 

Queen  Katherine.  Ye  turn  me  into  nothing.     Woe  upon  ye, 
And  all  such  false  professors !     Would  ye  have  me — 
If  ye  have  any  justice,  any  pity, 
If  ye  be  any  thing  but  churchmen's  habits — 
Put  my  sick  cause  into  his  hands  that  hates  me? 
Alas,  he  's  banish'd  me  his  bed  already; 
His  love  too  long  ago  !     I  am  old,  my  lords,  120 


ioo  KING  HENRY  VII L 

And  all  the  fellowship  I  hold  now  with  him 
Is  only  my  obedience.     What  can  happen 
To  me  above  this  wretchedness  ?  all  your  studies 
Make  me  a  curse  like  this. 

Campeius.  Your  fears  are  worse. 

Queen  Katherine.  Have  I  liv'd  thus  long — let  me  speak 

myself, 

Since  virtue  finds  no  friends — a  wife,  a  true  on,e? 
A  woman — I  dare  say  without  vain-glory— 
Never  yet  branded  with  suspicion  ? 
Have  I  with  all  my  full  affections 

Still  met  the  king  ?  lov'cl  him  next  heaven  ?  obey'd  him  ?      130 
Been,  out  of  fondness,  superstitious  to  him  ? 
Almost  forgot  my  prayers  to  .content  him  ? 
And  am  I  thus  rewarded?     'T  is  not  well,  lords. 
Bring  me  a  constant  woman  to  her  husband, 
One  that  ne'er  dream'd  a  joy  beyond  his  pleasure, 
And  to  that  woman,  when  she  has  done  most, 
Yet  will  I  add  an  honour, — a  great  patience. 

Wolsey.  Madam,  you  wander  from  the  good  we  aim  at. 

Queen  Katherine.  My  lord,  I  dare  not  make  myself  so  guilty, 
To  give  up  willingly  that  noble  title  Mo 

Your  master  wed  me  to  ;  nothing  but  death 
Shall  e'er  divorce  my  dignities. 

Wolsey.  Pray  hear  me. 

Queen  Katherine.  Would  I  had  never  trod  this  English  earth, 
Or  felt  the  flatteries  that  grow  upon  it ! 
Ye  have  angels'  faces,  but  heaven  knows  your  hearts ! 
What  will  become  of  me  now,  wretched  lady? 
I  am  the  most  unhappy  woman  living. — 
Alas,  poor  wenches,  where  are  now  your  fortunes  ? 

[To  her  Women 

Shipwrack'd  upon  a  kingdom  where  no  pity, 
No  friends,  no  hope,  no  kindred  weep  for  me,  .5o 

Almost  no  grave  allow'd  me. — Like  the  lily, 


ACT  HI.     SCENE   I.  10 1 

That  once  was  mistress  of  the  field  and  flourish'd, 
I  '11  hang  my  head  and  perish. 

Wolsey.  If  your  grace 

Could  but  be  brought  to  know  our  ends  are  hoiu'st, 
You  'd  feel  more  comfort.     Why  should  we,  good  lady, 
Upon  what  cause,  wrong  you  ?  alas,  our  places, 
The  way  of  our  profession  is  against  it ; 
We  are  to  cure  such  sorrows,  not  to  sow  them. 
For  goodness'  sake,  consider  what  you  do  ; 
How  you  may  hurt  yourself,  ay,  utterly  160 

Grow  from  the  king's  acquaintance,  by  this  carriage. 
The  hearts  of  princes  kiss  obedience, 
'So  much  they  love  it;  but  to  stubborn  spirits 
They  swell,  and  grow  as  terrible  as  storms. 
I  know  you  have  a  gentle,  noble  temper, 
A  soul  as  even  as  a  calm  ;  pray  think  us 
Those  we  profess — peace-makers,  friends,  and  servants. 

Campeius.  Madam,  you  '11  find  it  so.     You  wrong  your  virtues 
With  these  weak  women's  fears  ;  a  noble  spirit 
As  yours  was  put  into  you  ever  casts  170 

Such  doubts,  as  false  coin,  from  it.     The  king  loves  you  ; 
Beware  you  lose  it  not :  for  us,  if  you  please 
To  trust  us  in  your  business,  we  are  ready 
To  use  our  utmost  studies  in  your  service. 

Queen  Katherine.  Do  what  ye  will,  my  lords,  and  pray  for- 
give me, 

If  I  have  us'd  myself  unmannerly  ; 
You  know  I  am  a  woman,  lacking  wit 
To  make  a  seemly  answer  to  such  persons. 
Pray  do  my  service  to  his  majesty  ; 

He  has  my  heart  yet,  and  shall  have  my  prayers  i&« 

While  I  shall  have  my  life.     Come,  reverend  fathers  . 
Bestow  your  counsels  on  me  ;  she  now  begs 
That  little  thought,  when  she  set  footing  here, 
She  should  have  bought  her  dignities  so  dear.  [  Exeunt. 


102  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

SCENE  II.     Ante-chamber  to  the  King's  Apartment. 

Enter  the  DUKE  OF   NORFOLK,  the   DUKE  OF   SUFFOLK,  the 

EARL  OF  SURREY,  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Norfolk.  If  you  will  now  unite  in  your  complaints, 
And  force  them  with  a  constancy,  the  cardinal 
Cannot  stand  under  them  ;  if  you  omit 
The  offer  of  this  time,  I  cannot  promise 
But  that  you  shall  sustain  moe  new  disgraces, 
With  these  you  bear  already. 

Surrey.  I  am  joyful 

To  meet  the  least  occasion  that  may  give  me 
Remembrance  of  my  father-in-law,  the  duke, 
To  be  reveng'd  on  him. 

Suffolk.  Which  of  the  peers 

Have  uncontemn'd  gone  by  him,  or  at  least  «> 

Strangely  neglected?     When  did  he  regard 
The  stamp  of  nobleness  in  any  person 
Out  of  himself? 

Chamberlain.      My  lords,  you  speak  your  pleasures. 
What  he  deserves  of  you  and  me,  I  know ; 
What  we  can  do  to  him — though  now  the  time 
Gives  way  to  us — I  much  fear.     If  you  cannot 
Bar  his  access  to  the  king,  never  attempt 
Any  thing  on  him,  for  he  hath  a  witchcraft 
Over  the  king  in  's  tongue. 

Norfolk.  O,  fear  him  not ; 

His  spell  in  that  is  out:  the  king  hath  found  >• 

Matter  against  him  that  for  ever  mars 
The  honey  of  his  language.     No,  he  's  settled, 
Not  to  come  off,  in  his  displeasure. 

Surrey.  Sir, 

I  should  be  glad  to  hear  such  news  as  this 
Once  every  hour. 

Norfolk.  Believe  it,  this  is  true. 


ACT  III.     SCENE   II.  103 

In  the  divorce,  his  contrary  proceedings 
Are  all  unfolded;  wherein  he  appears, 
As  I  could  wish  mine  enemy. 

Surrey.  How  came 

His  practices  to  light? 

Suffolk.  Most  strangely. 

Surrey.  O,  how  ?  how  ? 

Suffolk.  The  cardinal's  letter  to  the  pope  miscarried,      30 
And  came  to  the  eye  o'  the  king ;  wherein  was  read, 
How  that  the  cardinal  did  entreat  his  holiness 
To  stay  the  judgment  o'  the  divorce;  for  if 
It  did  take  place,  '  I  do,'  quoth  he,  'perceive 
My  king  is  tangled  in  affection  to 
A  creature  of  the  queen's,  Lady  Anne  Bullen.' 

Surrey.   Has  the  king  this? 

Suffolk.  Believe  it. 

Surrey.  Will  this  work  ? 

Chamberlain.    The    king    in    this    perceives   him,  how  he 

coasts 

And  hedges  his  own  way.     But  in  this  point 
All  his  tricks  founder,  and  he  brings  his  physic  40 

After  his  patient's  death  ;  the  king  already 
Hath  married  the  fair  lady. 

Surrey.  Would  he  had  ! 

Suffolk.   May  you  be  happy  in  your  wish,  my  lord  ; 
For,  I  profess,  you  have  it. 

Surrey.  Now  all  my  joy 

Trace  the  conjunction  ! 

Suffolk.  My  amen  to  't ! 

Norfolk.  All  men's ! 

Suffolk.  There  's  order  given  for  her  coronation. — 
Marry,  this  is  yet  but  young,  and  may  be  left 
To  some  ears  unrecounted. — But,  my  lords, 
She  is  a  gallant  creature,  and  complete 
In  mind  and  feature  ;  I  persuade  me,  from  her  5o 


104  KING  HENRY  VII I. 

Will  fall  some  blessing  to  this  land,  which  shall 
In  it  be  memoriz'd. 

Surrey.  But  will  the  king 

Digest  this  letter  of  the  cardinal's  ? 
The  Lord  forbid ! 

Norfolk.  Marry,  amen ! 

Suffolk.  No,  no  ; 

There  be  more  wasps  that  buzz  about  his  nose 
Will  make  this  sting  the  sooner.     Cardinal  Campeius 
Is  stolen  away  to  Rome  ;  hath  ta'en  no  leave  ; 
Has  left  the  cause  o'  the  king  unhandled,  and 
Is  posted  as  the  agent  of  our  cardinal, 

To  second  all  his  plot.     I  do  assure  you,  60 

The  king  cried  *  ha !'  at  this. 

Chamberlain.  Now  God  incense  him, 

And  let  him  cry  'ha!'  louder. 

Norfolk.  But,  my  lord, 

When  returns  Cranmer? 

Suffolk.   He  is  return'd  in  his  opinions,  which 
Have  satisfied  the  king  for  his  divorce, 
Together  with  all  famous  colleges 
Almost  in  Christendom.     Shortly,  I  believe, 
His  second  marriage  shall  be  publish'd,  and 
Her  coronation.     Katherine  no  more 

Shall  be  call'd  queen,  but  princess  dowager,  70 

And  widow  to  Prince  Arthur. 

Norfolk.  This  same  Cranmer  's 

A  worthy  fellow,  and  hath  ta'en  much  pain 
In  the  king's  business. 

Suffolk.  He  has  ;  and  we  shall  see  him 

For  it  an  archbishop. 

Norfolk.  So  I  hear. 

Suffolk.  T  is  so.— 

The  cardinal ! 


ACT  III.     SCENE  II.  105 

Enter  WOLSEY  and  CROMWELL. 

Norfolk.  Observe,  observe  ;  he  's  moody. 

Wolsey.  The  packet,  Cromwell, 
Gave  't  you  the  king? 

Cromwell.  To  his  own  hand,  in  's  bedchamber. 

Wolsey.  Look'd  he  o'  the  inside  of  the  paper? 

Cromwell.  Presently 

He  did  unseal  them,  and  the  first  he  view'd, 
He  did  it  with  a  serious  mind  ;  a  heed  80 

Was  in  his  countenance  ;  you  he  bade 
Attend  him  here  this  morning. 

Wolsey.  Is  he  ready 

To  come  abroad  ? 

Cromwell.  I  think  by  this  he  is. 

Wolsey.  Leave  me  a  while.—  [Exit  Cromwell. 

It  shall  be  to  the  Duchess  of  Alen^on, 
The  French  king's  sister :  he  shall  marry  her. — 
Anne  Bullen  ?     No  ;  I  '11  no  Anne  Bullens  for  him  : 
There  's  more  in  't  than  fair  visage. — Bullen  ! 
No,  we  '11  no  Bullens. — Speedily  I  wish 
To  hear  from  Rome.— The  Marchioness  of  Pembroke!        90 

Norfolk.   He  's  discontented. 

Suffolk.          .  May  be  he  hears  the  king 

Does  whet  his  anger  to  him. 

Surrey.  Sharp  enough, 

Lord,  for  thy  justice  ! 

Wolsey.  The  late  queen's  gentlewoman,  a  knight's  daughter, 
To  be  her  mistress'  mistress !  the  queen's  queen  !— 
This  candle  burns  not  clear  :  't  is  I  must  snuff  it ; 
Then  out  it  goes. — What  though  I  know  her  virtuous 
And  well  deserving,  yet  I  know  her  for 
A  spleeny  Lutheran  ;  and  not  wholesome  to 
Our  cause,  that  she  should  lie  i'  the  bosom  of  i<x> 

Our-hard-rul'd  king.     Again,  there  is  sprung  up 


106  AY<VG  HENRY   VIII. 

An  heretic,  an  arch  one,  Cranmer;  one 
Hath  crawl'd  into  the  favour  of  the  king, 
And  is  his  oracle. 

Norfolk.  He  is  vex'd  at  something. 

Suffolk.   I  would   't  were  something  that  would  fret  the 

string, 
The  master-corcf  on  's  heart ! 

Enter  the  King,  reading  a  schedule;  and  LOVELL. 

Suffolk.  The  king,  the  king. 

King  Henry.  What  piles  of  wealth  hath  he  accumulated 
To  his  own  portion  !  and  what  expense  by  the  hour 
Seems  to  flow  from  him  !     How,  i'  the  name  of  thrift, 
Does  he  rake  this  together? — Now,  my  lords, —  uo 

Saw  you  the  cardinal  ? 

Norfolk.  My  lord,  we  have 

Stood  here  observing  him.     Some  strange  commotion 
Is  in  his  brain  :  he  bites  his  lip,  and  starts ; 
Stops  on  a  sudden,  looks  upon  the  ground, 
Then  lays  his  finger  on  his  temple ;  straight 
Springs  out  into  fast  gait ;  then  stops  again, 
Strikes  his  breast  hard ;  and  anon  he  casts 
His  eye  against  the  moon.     In  most  strange  postures 
We  have  seen  him  set  himself. 

King  Henry.  It  may  well  be  ; 

There  is  a  mutiny  in  's  mind.     This  morning  120 

Papers  of  state  he  sent  me  to  peruse, 
As  I  requir'd  ;  and  wot  you  what  I  found 
There, — on  my  conscience,  put  unwittingly? 
Forsooth,  an  inventory,  thus  importing, — 
The  several  parcels  of  his  plate,  his  treasure, 
Rich  stuffs,  and  ornaments  of  household,  which 
I  find  at  such  proud  rate  that  it  out-speaks 
Possession  of  a  subject. 

Norfolk.  It 's  heaven's  will  : 


ALT  n/.     SCENE  II.  107 

Some  spirit  put  this  paper  in  the  packet, 
To  bless  your  eye  withal. 

King  Henry.  If  we  did  think  130 

His  contemplation  were  above  the  earth, 
And  nVd  on  spiritual  object/he  should  still 
Dwell  in  his  musings  ;  but  I  am  afraid 
His  thinkings  are  below  the  moon,  not  worth 
His  serious  considering. 

l/fe  takes  his  seat,  and  whispers  Lovell,  who  goes  to  Wolsey. 

Wolsey.  Heaven  forgive  me ! 

Ever  God  bless  your  highness  ! 

King  Henry.  Good  my  lord, 

You  are  full  of  heavenly  stuff,  and  bear  the  inventory 
Of  your  best  graces  in  your  mind,  the  which 
You  were  now  running  o'er  ;  you  have  scarce  time 
To  steal  from  spiritual  leisure  a  brief  span,  140 

To  keep  your  earthly  audit.     Sure,  in  that 
I  deem  you  an  ill  husband,  and  am  glad 
To  have  you  therein  my  companion. 

Wolsey.  Sir, 

For  holy  offices  I  have  a  time  ;  a  time 
To  think  upon'the  part  of  business  which 
I  bear  i'  the  state ;  and  nature  does  require 
Her  times  of  preservation,  which,  perforce, 
I  her  frail  son,  amongst  my  brethren  mortal, 
Must  give  my  tendance  to. 

King  Henry.  You  have  said  well. 

Wolsey.   And  ever  may  your  highness  yoke  together,       150 
As  I  will  lend  you  cause,  my  doing  well 
With  my  well  saying! 

King  Henry.  'T  is  well  said  again  ; 

And  't  is  a  kind  of  good  deed  to  say  well : 
And  yet  words  are  no  deeds.     My  father  lov'd  you  ; 
He  said  he  did,  and  with  his  deed  did  crown 
His  word  upon  you :  since  I  had  my  office, 


io8  KING   HEXRY   VI IL 

I  have  kept  you  next  my  heart ;  have  not  alone 
Employed  you  where  high  profits  might  come  home, 
But  par'd  my  present  havings,  to  bestow 
My  bounties  upon  you. 

Wolsey.  [Aside]  What  should  this  mean  ?  160 

Surrey.  [Aside]  The  Lord  increase  this  business! 

King  Henry.  Have  I  not  made  you 

The  prime  man  of  the  state?     I  pray  you,  tell  me, 
If  what  I  now  pronounce  you  have  found  true ; 
And,  if  you  may  confess  it,  say  withal, 
If  you  are  bound  to  us  or  no.     What  say  you  ? 

Wolsey.  My  sovereign,  I  confess,  your  royal  graces, 
Shower'd  on  me  daily,  have  been  more  than  could 
My  studied  purposes  requite  ;  which  went 
Beyond  all  man's  endeavours  :  my  endeavours 
Have  ever  come  too  short  of  my  desires,  170 

Yet  fil'd  with  my  abilities.     Mine  own  ends 
Have  been  mine  so  that  evermore  they  pointed 
To  the  good  of  your  most  sacred  person  and 
The  profit  of  the  state.     For  your  great  graces 
Heap'd  upon  me,  poor  undeserver,  I 
Can  nothing  render  but  allegiant  thanks, 
My  prayers  to  heaven  for  you,  my  loyalty, 
Which  ever  has  and  ever  shall  be  growing 
Till  death,  that  winter,  kill  it. 

King  Henry.  Fairly  answer'd  ; 

A  loyal  and  obedient  subject  is  180 

Therein  illustrated.     The  honour  of  it 
Does  pay  the  act  of  it ;  as,  i'  the  contrary, 
The  foulness  is  the  punishment.     I  presume, 
That  as  my  hand  has  open'd  bounty  to  you, 
My  heart  dropp'd  love,  my  power  rain'd  honour,  more 
On  you  than  any,  so  your  hand  and  heart, 
Your  brain  and  every  function  of  your  power, 
Should,  notwithstanding  that  your  bond  of  duty. 


ACT  111.     SCENE    II.  109 

As  't  were  in  love's  particular,  be  more 

To  me,  your  friend,  than  any. 

Wolsey.  I  do  profess  19° 

That  for  your  highness'  good  I  ever  labour'd 

More  than  mine  own  ;  that  am  true,  and  will  be, 

Though  all  the  world  should  crack  their  duty  to  you, 

And  throw  it  from  their  soul.     Though  perils  did 

Abound  as  thick  as  thought  could  make  them,  and 

Appear  in  forms  more  horrid,  yet  my  duty, 

As  doth  a  rock  against  the  chiding  flood, 

Should  the  approach  of  this  wild  river  break, 

And  stand  unshaken  yours. 

King  Henry.  'T  is  nobly  spoken. 

Take  notice,  lords,  he  has  a  loyal  breast,  *oo 

For  you  have  seen  him  open  't. — Read  o'er  this  ; 

\_Giirs  hi m  papers. 

And,  after,  this ;  and  then  to  breakfast  with 

What  appetite  you  have. 

\Exit  King,  frowning  upon  Cardinal  Wolsey ;  the  No- 
bles throng  after  hint,  smiling  and  whispering. 
Wolsey.  What  should  this  mean  ? 

What  sudden  anger  's  this  ?  how  have  I  reap'd  it  ? 

He  parted  frowning  from  me,  as  if  ruin 

Leap'd  from  his  eyes ;  so  looks  the  chafed  lion 

Upon  the  daring  huntsman  that  has  gall'd  him, 

Then  makes  him  nothing.     I  must  read  this  paper ; 

I  fear,  the  story  of  his  anger. — 'T  is  so  ; 

This  paper  has  undone  me  ! — 'T  is  the  account  a 

Of  all  that  world  of  wealth  I  have  drawn  together 

For  mine  own  ends ;  indeed,  to  gain  the  popedom, 

And  fee  my  friends  in  Rome.     O  negligence, 

Fit  for  a  fool  to  fall  by  !     What  cross  devil 

Made  me  put  this  main  secret  in  the  packet 

I  sent  the  king?     Is  there  no  way  to  cure  this? 

No  new  device  to  beat  this  from  his  brains? 


no  KING   HENRY   VIII. 

I  know  't  will  stir  him  strongly ;  yet  I  know 

A  way,  if  it  take  right,  in  spite  of  fortune 

Will  bring  me  off  again.     What 's  this  ? — '  To  the  pope  '  ?  220 

The  letter,  as  I  live,  with  all  the  business 

I  writ  to  's  holiness.     Nay  then,  farewell ! 

I  have  touch'd  the  highest  point  of  all  my  greatness, 

And  from  that  full  meridian  of  my  glory, 

I  haste  now  to  my  setting ;  I  shall  fall 

Like  a  bright  exhalation  in  the  evening, 

And  no  man  see  me  more. 

Enter  the  DUKES  OF  NORFOLK  and  SUFFOLK,  the  EARL  OP- 
SURREY,  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Norfolk.  Hear  the  king's  pleasure,  cardinal ;  who  com 

mands  you 

To  render  up  the  great  seal  presently 

Into  our  hands,  and  to  confine  yourself  130 

To  Asher-house,  my  Lord  of  Winchester's, 
Till  you  hear  further  from  his  highness. 

Wolsey.  Stay ; 

Where  's  your  commission,  lords?  words  cannot  carry 
Authority  so  weighty. 

Suffolk.  Who  dare  cross  'em, 

Bearing  the  king's  will  from  his  mouth  expressly? 

Wolsey.  Till  I  find  more  than  will,  or  words,  to  do  it — 
I  mean  your  malice — know,  officious  lords, 
I  dare  and  must  deny  it.     Now,  I  feel 
Of  what  coarse  metal  ye  are  moulded — envy. 
How  eagerly  ye  follow  my  disgraces,  340 

As  if  it  fed  ye !  and  how  sleek  and  wanton 
Ye  appear  in  every  thing  may  bring  my  ruin  ! 
Follow  your  envious  courses,  men  of  malice  ; 
You  have  Christian  warrant  for  'em,  and,  no  doubt, 
In  time  will  find  their  fit  rewards.     That  seal 
You  ask  wjth  such  a  violence,  the  king — 


AC'/   ///.     SCE.\'E  II.  in 

Mine  and  your  master — with  his  own  hand  gave  me, 

Bade  me  enjoy  it,  with  the  place  and  honours, 

During  my  life,  and  to  confirm  his  goodness, 

Tied  it  by  letters  patents.    Now,  who  '11  take  it  ?  25° 

Surrey.  The  king  that  gave  it. 

Wolsey.  It  must  be  himself,  then. 

Surrey.  Thou  art  a  proud  traitor,  priest. 

Wolsey.  Proud  lord,  thou  liest ; 

Within  these  forty  hours  Surrey  durst  better 
Have  burnt  that  tongue  than  said  so. 

Surrey.  Thy  ambition, 

Thou  scarlet  sin,  robb'd  this  bewailing  land 
Of  noble  Buckingham,  my  father-in-law; 
The  heads  of  all  thy  brother  cardinals, 
With  thee  and  all  thy  best  parts  bound  together, 
Weigh'd  not  a  hair  of  his.     Plague  of  your  policy  ! 
You  sent  me  deputy  for  Ireland,  260 

Far  from  his  succour,  from  the  king,  from  all 
That  might  have  mercy  on  the  fault  thou  gav'st  him  ; 
Whilst  your  great  goodness,  out  of  holy  pity, 
Absolv'd  him  with  an  axe. 

Wolsey.  This,  and  all  else 

This  talking  lord  can  lay  upon  my  credit, 
I  answer,  is  most  false.     The  duke  by  law 
Found  his  deserts ;  how  innocent  I  was 
From  any  private  malice  in  his  end, 
His  noble  jury  and  foul  cause  can  witness. 
If  I  lov'd  many  words,  lord,  I  should  tell  you  270 

You  have  as  little  honesty  as  honour, 
That  in  the  way  of  loyalty  and  truth 
Towards  the  king,  my  ever  royal  master, 
Dare  mate  a  sounder  man  than  Surrey  can  be, 
And  all  that  love  his  follies. 

Surrey.  By  my  soul, 

Your  long  coat,  priest,  protects  you  ;  thou  shouldst  feel 


112  KING  HENRY   VIII. 

My  sword  i'  the  life-blood  of  thee  else. — My  lords, 

Can  ye  endure  to  hear  this  arrogance  ? 

And  from  this  fellow?     If  we  live  thus  tamely, 

To  be  thus  jaded  by  a  piece  of  scarlet,  «8c 

Farewell  nobility ;  let  his  grace  go  forward, 

And  dare  us  with  his  cap,  like  larks. 

Wolsey.  All  goodness 

Is  poison  to  thy  stomach. 

Surrey.  Yes,  that  goodness 

Of  gleaning  all  the  land's  wealth  into  one, 
Into  your  own  hands,  cardinal,  by  extortion  ; 
The  goodness  of  your  intercepted  packets, 
You  writ  to  the  pope  against  the  king ;  your  goodness, 
Since  you  provoke  me,  shall  be  most  notorious.— 
My  Lord  of  Norfolk,  as  you  are  truly  noble, 
As  you  respect  the  common  good,  the  state  ^ 

Of  our  despis'd  nobility,  our  issues — 
Who,  if  he  live,  will  scarce  be  gentlemen — 
Produce  the  grand  sum  of  his  sins,  the  articles 
Collected  from  his  life. — I  '11  startle  you. 

Wolsey.  How  much,  methinks,  I  could  despise  this  man, 
But  that  I  am  bound  in  charity  against  it. 

Norfolk.  Those  articles,  my  lord,  are  in  the  king's  hand  : 
But,  thus  much,  they  are  foul  ones. 

Wolsey.  So  much  fairer 

And  spotless  shall  mine  innocence  arise 
When  the  king  knows  my  truth. 

Surrey.  This  cannot  save  you.    300 

I  thank  my  memory,  I  yet  remember 
Some  of  these  articles ;  and  out  they  shall. 
Now,  if  you  can  blush  and  cry  guilty,  cardinal, 
You  '11  show  a  little  honesty. 

Wolsey.  Speak  on,  sir ; 

I  dare  your  worst  objections  :  if  I  blush, 
It  is  to  see  a  nobleman  want  manners. 


ACT  III.     SCENE  II.  II3 

Surrey.   I  had  rather  want  those  than  my  head.     Have  at 

you. 

First,  that  without  the  king's  assent  or  knowledge, 
You  wrought  to  be  a  legate  ;  by  which  power 
You  maim'd  the  jurisdiction  of  all  bishops.  3'° 

Norfolk.  Then,  that  in  all  you  writ  to  Rome,  or  else 
To  foreign  princes,  *  Ego  et  Rex  meus ' 
Was  still  inscrib'd  ;  in  which  you  brought  the  king 
To  be  your  servant. 

Suffolk.  Then,  that  without  the  knowledge 

Either  of  king  or  council,  when  you  went 
Ambassador  to  the  emperor,  you  made  bold 
To  carry  into  Flanders  the  great  seal. 

Surrey.  Item,  you  sent  a  large  commission 
To  Gregory  de  Cassalis,  to  conclude, 

Without  the  king's  will  or  the  state's  allowance,  320 

A  league  between  his  highness  and  Ferrara. 

Suffolk.  That  out  of  mere  ambition  you  have  caus'd 
Your  holy  hat  to  be  stamp'd  on  the  king's  coin. 

Surrey.  Then,  that  you  have  sent  innumerable  substance— 
By  what  means  got,  I  leave  to  your  own  conscience — 
To  furnish  Rome,  and  to  prepare  the  ways 
You  have  for  dignities ;  to  the  mere  undoing 
Of  all  the  kingdom.     Many  more  there  are  ; 
Which,  since  they  are  of  you,  and  odious, 
I  will  not  taint  my  mouth  with. 

Chamberlain.  O,  my  lord,  33c 

Press  not  a  falling  man  too  far !  't  is  virtue. 
His  faults  lie  open  to  the  laws  ;  let  them, 
Not  you,  correct  him.     My  heart  weeps  to  see  him 
So  little  of  his  great  self. 

Surrey.  I  forgive  him. 

Suffolk.  Lord  cardinal,  the  king's  further  pleasure  is, — 
Because  all  those  things  you  have  done  of  late 
By  your  power  legatine  within  this  kingdom, 

H 


H4  KING  HENRY  F//7. 

Fall  into  the  compass  of  a  praemunire, — 

That  therefore  such  a  writ  be  sued  against  you ; 

To  forfeit  all  your  goods,  lands,  tenements,  340 

Chattels,  and  whatsoever,  and  to  be 

Out  of  the  king's  protection. — This  is  my  charge. 

Norfolk.  And  so  we  '11  leave  you  to  your  meditations 
How  to  live  better.     For  your  stubborn  answer, 
About  the  giving  back  the  great  seal  to  us, 
The  king  shall  know  it,  and,  no  doubt,  shall  thank  you. 
So,  fare  you  well,  my  little  good  lord  cardinal. 

\Exeunt  all  but  Wolsey. 

Wolsey.  So,  farewell  to  the  little  good  you  bear  me. 
Farewell,  a  long  farewell,  to  all  my  greatness  ! 
This  is  the  state  of  man  :  to-day  he  puts  forth  350 

The  tender  leaves  of  hopes  ;  to-morrow  blossoms, 
And  bears  his  blushing  honours  thick  upon  him  ; 
The  third  day  comes  a  frost,  a  killing  frost, 
And — when  he  thinks,  good  easy  man,  full  surely 
His  greatness  is  a-ripening — nips  his  root, 
And  then  he  falls  as  I  do.     I  have  ventur'd, 
Like  little  wanton  boys  that  swim  on  bladders, 
This  many  summers  in  a  sea  of  glory, 
But  far  beyond  my  depth  ;  my  high-blown  pride, 
At  length  broke  under  me,  and  now  has  left  me,  360 

Weary  and  old  with  service,  to  the  mercy 
Of  a  rude  stream  that  must  for  ever  hide  me. 
Vain  pomp  and  glory  of  this  world,  I  hate  ye ! 
I  feel  my  heart  new  open'd.     O,  how  wretched 
Is  that  poor  man  that  hangs  on  princes'  favours  1 
There  is  betwixt  that  smile  we  would  aspire  to, 
That  sweet  aspect  of  princes,  and  their  ruin, 
More  pangs  and  fears  than  wars  or  women  have  j 
And  when  he  falls,  he  falls  like  Lucifer, 
Never  to  hope  again.— 


ACT  in.    SCEM-:  n.  115 

Enter  CROMWELL,  amazedly. 

Why,  how  now,  Cromwell !  37° 

Cromwell.  I  have  no  power  to  speak,  sir. 

Wolsey.  What!  amaz'd 

At  my  misfortunes?  can  thy  spirit  wonder       , 
A  great  man  should  decline?     Nay,  an  you  weep, 
I  am  fallen  indeed. 

Cromwell.  How  does  your  grace  ? 

Wolsey.  Why,  well : 

Never  so  truly  happy,  my  good  Cromwell. 
I  know  myself  now;  and  I  feel  within  me 
A  peace  above  all  earthly  dignities, 
A  still  and  quiet  conscience.     The  king  has  cur'd  me, 
I  humbly  thank  his  grace,  and  from  these  shoulders, 
These  ruin'd  pillars,  out  of  pity,  taken  38o 

A  load  would  sink  a  navy — too  much  honour. 
O,  't  is  a  burthen,  Cromwell,  't  is  a  burthen 
Too  heavy  for  a  man  that  hopes  for  heaven  ! 

Cromwell.  I  am  glad  your  grace  has  made  that  right  use 
of  it. 

Wolsey.  I  hope  I  have  :  I  am  able  now,  methinks — 
Out  of  a  fortitude  of  soul  I  feel — 
To  endure  more  miseries,  and  greater  far 
Than  my  weak-hearted  enemies  dare  offer. 
What  news  abroad  ? 

Cromwell.  The  heaviest  and  the  worst 

Is  your  displeasure  with  the  king. 

Wolsey.  God  bless  him  !  390 

Cromwell.  The  next  is,  that  Sir  Thomas  More  is  chosen 
Lord  chancellor  in  your  place. 

Wolsey.  That 's  somewhat  sudden  ; 

But  he  's  a  learned  man.  May  he  continue 
Long  in  his  highness'  favour,  and  do  justice 
For  truth's  sake  and  his  conscience  ;  that  his  bones, 


TI6  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

When  he  has  run  his  course,  and  sleeps  in  blessings, 
May  have  a  tomb  of  orphans'  tears  wept  on  'em  ! 
What  more  ? 

Cromwell.  That  Cranmer  is  return'd  with  welcome, 
InstalPd  lord  archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

Wolsey.  That 's  news  indeed  ! 

Cromwell.  Last,  that  the  Lady  Anne, 

Whom  the  king  hath  in  secrecy  long  married,  4°i 

This  day  was  view'd  in  open  as  his  queen, 
Going  to  chapel  ;  and  the  voice  is  now 
Only  about  her  coronation. 

Wolsey.  There  was  the  weight  that  pull'd  me  down.     O 

Cromwell  ! 

The  king  has  gone  beyond  me  ;  all  my  glories 
In  that  one  woman  I  have  lost  for  ever. 
No  sun  shall  ever  usher  forth  mine  honours, 
Or  gild  again  the  noble  troops  that  waited 
Upon  my  smiles.     Go,  get  thee  from  me,  Cromwell ;  4»° 

1  am  a  poor  fallen  man,  unworthy  now 
To  be  thy  lord  and  master.     Seek  the  king ; 
That  sun,  I  pray,  may  never  set !     I  have  told  him 
What  and  how  true  thou  art ;  he  will  advance  thee. 
Some  little  memory  of  me  will  stir  him — 
I  know  his  noble  nature — not  to  let 
Thy  hopeful  service  perish  too.     Good  Cromwell, 
Neglect  him  not ;  make  use  now,  and  provide 
For  thine  own  future  safety. 

Cromwell.  O  my  lord  ! 

Must  I  then  leave  you  ?  must  I  needs  forego  4*> 

So  good,  so  noble,  and  so  true  a  master  ? 
Bear  witness,  all  that  have  not  hearts  of  iron, 
With  what  a  sorrow  Cromwell  leaves  his  lord ! — 
The  king  shall  have  my  service,  but  my  prayers 
For  ever  and  for  ever  shall  be  yours. 

Wolsey.  Cromwell,  I  did  not  think  to  shed  a  tear 


ACT  III.     SCENE  II.  117 

In  all  my  miseries ;  but  thou  hast  forc'd  me, 
Out  of  thy  honest  truth,  to  play  the  woman. 
Let 's  dry  our  eyes  ;  and  thus  far  hear  me,  Cromwell : 
And — when  I  am  forgotten,  as  I  shall  be,  43c 

And  sleep  in  dull,  cold  marble,  where  no  mention 
Of  me  more  must  be  heard  of— say,  I  taught  thee  ; 
Say,  Wolsey,  that  once  trod  the  ways  of  glory, 
And  sounded  all  the  depths  and  shoals  of  honour, 
Found  thee  a  way,  out  of  his  wrack,  to  rise  in  ; 
A  sure  and  safe  one,  though  thy  master  miss'd  it. 
Mark  but  my  fall,  and  that  that  ruin'd  me. 
Cromwell,  I  charge  thee,  fling  away  ambition  : 
By  that  sin  fell  the  angels ;  how  can  man,  then, 
The  image  of  his  Maker,  hope  to  win  by  't  ?  440 

Love  thyself  last;  cherish  those  hearts  that  hate  thee  : 
Corruption  wins  not  more  than  honesty. 
Still  in  thy  right  hand  carry  gentle  peace, 
To  silence  envious  tongues  ;  be  just,  and  fear  not. 
Cet  all  the  ends  thou  aim'st  at  be  thy  country's, 
Thy  God's,  and  truth's  ;  then,  if  thou  fall'st,  O  Cromwell ! 
Thou  fall'st  a  blessed  martyr.     Serve  the  king ; 
And, — prithee,  lead  me  in  : 
There  take  an  inventory  of  all  I  have, 

To  the  last  penny  ;  't  is  the  king's :  my  robe,  450 

And  my  integrity  to  heaven,  is  all 
I  dare  now  call  mine  own.     O  Cromwell,  Cromwell! 
Had  I  but  serv'd.my  God  with  half  the  zeal 
I  serv'd  my  king,  he  would  not  in  mine  age 
Have  left  me  naked  to  mine  enemies. 

Cromwell.  Good  sir,  have  patience. 

Wolsey.  So  1  have.     Farewell 

The  hopes  of  court!  my  hopes  in  heaven  do  dwell.  \Exeunt 


ACT  IV. 

I.     A  Street  in  Westminster. 
Enter  two  Gentlemen,  meeting. 
I  Gentleman.  You  're  well  met,  once  again. 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  /.  H9 

2  Gentleman.  So  are  you. 

1  Gentleman.  You  come  to  take  your  stand  here,  and  behold 
The  Lady  Anne  pass  from  her  coronation. 

2  Gentleman.  'T  is  all  my  business.    At  our  last  encounter, 
The  Duke  of  Buckingham  came  from  his  trial. 

1  Gentleman.  'T  is  very  true ;  but  that  time  offer'd  sorrow ; 
This,  general  joy. 

2  Gentleman.       •  'T  is  well ;  the  citizens, 

I  am  sure,  have  shown  at  full  their  royal  minds — t 

As,  let  'em  have  their  rights,  they  are  ever  forward —  10 

In  celebration  of  this  day  with  shows, 

Pageants,  and  sights  of  honour. 

1  Gentleman.  Never  greater, 
Nor,  i  '11  assure  you,  better  taken,  sir. 

2  Gentleman.  May  I  be  bold  to  ask  what  that  contains, 
That  paper  in  your  hand  ? 

1  Gentleman.  Yes ;  't  is  the  list 
Of  those  that  claim  their  offices  this  day 

By  custom  of  the  coronation. 

The  Duke  of  Suffolk  is  the  first,  and  claims 

To  be  high-steward  ;  next,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk, 

He  to  be  earl  marshal.     You  may  read  the  rest.  20 

2  Gentleman.  I   thank  you,  sir:   had  I  not  known  those 

customs, 

I  should  have  been  beholding  to  your  paper. 
But,  I  beseech  you,  what 's  become  of  Katherine, 
The  princess  dowager?  how  goes  her  business? 

i  Gentleman.  That  I  can  tell  you  too.     The  Archbishop 
Of  Canterbury,  accompanied  with  other 
Learned  and  reverend  fathers  of  his  order, 
Held  a  late  court  at  Dunstable,  six  miles  off 
From  Ampthill  where  the  princess  lay,  to  which 
She  was  often  cited  by  them,  but  appear'd  not ;  3c 

And,  to  be  short,  for  not  appearance,  and 
The  king's  late  scruple,  by  the  main  assent 


120  -KING  HENRY  VIII. 

Of  all  these  learned  men  she  was  divorced, 
And  the  late  marriage  made  of  none  effect : 
Since  which  she  was  remov'd  to  Kimbolton, 
Where  she  remains  now  sick. 

2  Gentleman.  Alas,  good  lady  ! — 

{Trumpets t 
The  trumpets  sound  ;  stand  close,  the  queen  is  coming.       37 

[Hautboys. 

The  Order  of  the  Procession. 
A  lively  flourish  of  trumpets :  then  Enter 

1.  Two  Judges. 

2.  Lord  Chancellor,  with  purse  and  mace  before  him. 

3.  Choristers  singing. 

4.  Mayor  of  London,  bearing  the  mace.     Then,  Garter,  in  hh 

coat  of  arms  ;  and  on  his  head  a  gilt  copper  crown. 

5.  MARQUESS  DORSET,  bearing  a  sceptre  of  gold ;  on  his  head 

a  demi-coronal  of  gold.  With  him  the  EARL  OF  SURREY, 
bearing  the  rod  of  silver  with  the  dove ;  crowned  with 
an  earl's  coronet.  Collars  of  SS. 

6.  DUKE  OF  SUFFOLK,  in  his  robe  of  estate,  his  coronet  on  hh 

head,  bearing  a  long  white  wand,  as  High-steward.  With 
him,  the  DUKE  OF  NORFOLK,  with  the  rod  of  marshal- 
ship ;  a  coronet  on  his  head.  Collars  of  SS. 

7.  A  canopy  borne  by  four  of  the  Cinque-ports;  under  it,  t/ic 

Queen  in  her  robe  ;  her  hair  richly  adorned  with  pearl ; 
crowned.  On  each  side  her,  the  Bishops  of  London  and 
Winchester. 

8.  T/ie  old  DUCHESS  OF  NORFOLK,  in  a  coronal  of  gold,  wrought 

with  flowers,  bearing  the  Queen's  train. 

9.  Certain  Ladies  or  Countesses,  with  plain  circlets  of  gola^ 

without  flowers. 

2  Gentleman.  A  royal  train,  believe   me.- -These  I  know? 
Who's  that,  that  bears  the  sceptre? 


ACT  IV.     SC/-:\K    /.  I2i 

1  Gentleman.  Marquess  Dorset ; 
Anil  that  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  with  the  rod.  40 

2  Gentleman.  A  bold,  brave  gentleman.     That  should  be 
The  Duke  of  Suffolk. 

1  Gentleman.  T  is  the  same, — high-steward. 

2  Gentleman.   And  that  my  Lord  of  Norfolk  ? 

1  Gentleman.  Yes. 

2  Gentleman.  Heaven  bless  thee  ! 

[Looking  on  the  Queen. 

Thou  hast  the  sweetest  face  I  ever  look'd  on.— 
Sir,  as  I  have  a  soul,  she  is  an  angel. 

1  Gentleman.  They  that  bear 

The  cloth  of  honour  over  her,  are  four  barons 
Of  the  Cinque-ports. 

2  Gentleman.  Those  men  are  happy;  and  so  are  all  are 

near  her. 

I  take  it  she  that  carries  up  the  train  5o 

Is  that  old  noble  lady,  Duchess  of  Norfolk. 

1  Gentleman.   It  is  ;  and  all  the  rest  are  countesses. 

2  Gentleman.  Their  coronets  say  so.     These  are  stars,  in- 

deed. 

\Exit  Procession,  with  a  great  flourish  of  trumpets. 

Enter  a  third  Gentleman. 

1  Gentleman.  God  save  you,  sir !     Where  have  you  been 

broiling? 

3  Gentleman.  Among  the  crowd  i'  the  abbey,  where  a  fingei 
Could  not  be  wedg'd  in  more  ;  I  am  stifled 

With  the  mere  rankness  of  their  joy. 

2  Gentleman.  You  saw  the  ceremony? 

3  Gentleman.  That  I  did. 

1  Gentleman.  How  was  it  ?  60 
3  Gentleman.  Well  worth  the  seeing. 

2  Gentleman.  Good  sir,  speak  it  to  us. 

3  Gentleman.  As  well  as  I  am  able.     The  rich  stream 


122  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

Of  lords  and  ladies,  having  brought  the  queen 

To  a  prepar'd  place  in  the  choir,  fell  off 

A  distance  from  her,  while  her  grace  sat  down 

To  rest  a  while — some  half  an  hour  or  so — 

In  a  rich  chair  of  state,  opposing  freely 

The  beauty  of  her  person  to  the  people. 

Believe  me,  sir,  she  is  the  goodliest  woman 

That  ever  lay  by  man  ;  which  when  the  people 

Had  the  full  view  of,  such  a  noise  arose 

As  the  shrouds  make  at  sea  in  a  stiff  tempest, 

As  loud  and  to  as  many  tunes  :  hats,  cloaks, — 

Doublets,  I  think, — flew  up  ;  and  had  their  faces 

Been  loose,  this  day  they  had  been  lost.     Such  joy 

I  never  saw  before.     No  man  living 

Could  say  '  This  is  my  wife '  there,  all  were  woven 

So.  strangely  in  one  piece. 

2  Gentleman.  But  what  follow'd  ? 

3  Gentleman.  At  length  her  grace  rose,  and  with  modest 

paces  80 

Came  to  the  altaf,  where  she  kneel'd,  and  saint-like 
Cast  her  fair  eyes  to  heaven  and  pray'd  devoutly;* 
Then  rose  again,  and  bow'd  her  to  the  people : 
When  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
She  had  all  the  royal  makings  of  a  queen, 
As  holy  oil,  Edward  Confessor's  crown, 
The  rod,  and  bird  of  peace,  and  all  such  emblems 
Laid  nobly  on  her;  which  perform 'd,  the  choir, 
With  all  the  choicest  music  of  the  kingdom, 
Together  sung  Te  Deum.     So  she  parted,  90 

And  with  the  same  full  state  pac'd  back  again 
To  York-place,  where  the  feast  is  held. 

i  Gentleman.  Sir, 

You  must  no  more  call  it  York-place  ;  that 's  past, 
For  since  the  cardinal  fell  that  title  's  lost : 
T  is  now  the  king's,  and  call'd  Whitehall, 


AC 7'  //.     SCENE   II.  I23 

3  Gentleman.  I  know  it ; 

But  't  is  so  lately  alter'd,  that  the  old  name 
Is  fresh  about  me. 

2  Gentleman.          What  two  reverend  bishops 
Were  those  that  went  on  each  side  of  the  queen  ? 

3  Gentleman.    Stokesly  and   Gardiner :    the   one  of  Win- 

chester, 

Newly  preferr'd  from  the  king's  secretary  ;  100 

The  other,  London. 

2  Gentleman.  He  of  Winchester 

Is  held  no  great  good  lover  of  the  archbishop's, 
The  virtuous  Cranmer. 

3  Getitleman.  All  the  land  knows  that : 
However,  yet  there  's  no  great  breach  ;  when  it  comes, 
Cranmer  will  find  a  friend  will  not  shrink  from  him. 

2  Gentleman.  Who  may  that  be,  1  pray  you  ? 

3  Gentleman.  Thomas  Cromwell  ; 
A  man  in  much  esteem  with  the  king,  and  truly 

A  worthy  friend.     The  king  has  made  him 

Master  o'  the  jewel-house, 

And  one,  already,  of  the  privy-council.  no 

2  Gentleman.  He  will  deserve  more. 

3  Gentleman.  Yes,  without  all  doubt. 
Come,  gentlemen,  ye  shall  go  my  way,  which 

is  to  the  court,  and  there  ye  shall  be  my  guests; 
Something  I  can  command.  As  I  walk  thither, 
I  '11  te.ll  ye  more. 

Both.  You  may  command  us,  sir.  {Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.     Kimbolton. 
Enter  KATHERINE,  sick;  led  between  GRIFFITH  and  PATIENCE. 

Griffith.   How  does  your  grace  ? 

Katherine.  O,  Griffith,  sick  to  death ; 

My  legs,  like  loaden  branches,  bow  to  the  earth, 


124  KING  HENRY  VI II. 

Willing  to  leave  their  burthen.     Reach  a  chair : — 
So, — now,  methinks,  I  feel  a  little  ease. 
Didst  thou  not  tell  me,  Griffith,  as  thou  led'st  me, 
That  the  great  child  of  honour,  Cardinal  Wolsey, 
Was  dead  ? 

Griffith.      Yes,  madam  ;  but  I  think  your  grace, 
Out  of  the  pain  you  suffer'd,  gave  no  ear  to  't. 

Katherine.  Prithee,  good  Griffith,  tell  me  how  he  died  ; 
If  well,  he  stepp'd  before  me,  happily,  \ 

For  my  example. 

Griffith.  Well,  the  voice  goes,  madam  ; 

For  after  the  stout  Earl  Northumberland 
Arrested  him  at  York,  and  brought  him  forward, 
As  a  man  sorely  tainted,  to  his  answer, 
He  fell  sick  suddenly,  and  grew  so  ill 
He  could  not  sit  his  mule. 

Katherine.  Alas,  poor  man ! 

Griffith.  At  last,  with  easy  roads,  he  came  to  Leicester, 
Lodg'd  in  the  abbey,  where  the  reverend  abbot 
With  all  his  covent,  honourably  receiv'd  him; 
To  whom  he  gave  these  words  :  'O  father  abbot,  ; 

An  old  man,  broken  with  the  storms  of  state, 
is  come  to  lay  his  weary  bones  among  ye  ; 
Give  him  a  little  earth  for  charity!' 
So  went  to  bed,  where  eagerly  his  sickness 
Pursued  him  still ;  and  three  nights  after  this, 
About  the  hour  of  eight,  which  he  himself 
Foretold  should  be  his  last,  full  of  repentance, 
Continual  meditations,  tears,  and  sorrows, 
He  gave  his  honours  to  the  world  again. 
His  blessed  part  to  heaven,  and  slept  in  peace. 

Katherine.   So  may  he  rest !  his  faults  lie  gently  on  him  ! 
Yet  thus  far,  Griffith,  give  me  leave  to  speak  him, 
And  yet  with  charity.     He  was  a  man 
Of  an  unbounded  stomach,  ever  ranking 


ACT  IV.     SCRXE  II.  125 

Himself  with  princes;  one  that  by  suggestion 

Tith'd  all  the  kingdom  :  simony  was  fair  play  ; 

His  own  opinion  was  his  law:  i'  the  presence 

He  would  say  untruths,  and  be  ever  double, 

Both  in  his  words  and  meaning.     He  was  never, 

But  where  he  meant  to  ruin,  pitiful ;  ^o 

His  promises  were,  as  he  then  was,  mighty, 

But  his  performance,  as  he  is  now,  nothing. 

Of  his  own  body  he  was  ill,  and  gave 

The  clergy  ill  example. 

Griffith.  Noble  madam, 

Men's  evil  manners  live  in  brass;  their  virtues 
We  write  in  water.     May  it  please  your  highness 
To  hear  me  speak  his  good  now  ? 

Katherine.  Yes,  good  Griffith  ; 

I  were  malicious  else. 

Griffith.  This  cardinal, 

Though  from  an  humble  stock,  undoubtedly 
Was  fashion'd  to  much  honour  from  his  cradle.  50 

He  was  a  scholar,  and  a  ripe  and  good  one ; 
Exceeding  wise,  fair  spoken,  and  persuading ; 
Lofty  and  sour  to  them  that  lov'd  him  not, 
But  to  those  men  that  sought  him  sweet  as  summer. 
And  though  he  were  unsatisfied  in  getting — 
Which  was  a  sin — yet  in  bestowing,  madam, 
He  was 'most  princely;  ever  witness  for  him 
Those  twins  of  learning  that  he  rais'd  in  you, 
Ipswich  and  Oxford  !  one  of  which  fell  with  him, 
•Unwilling  to  outlive  the  good  that  did  it ;  **> 

The  other,  though  unfinished,  yet  so  famous, 
So  excellent  in  art,  and  still  so  rising, 
That  Christendom  shall  ever  speak  his  virtue. 
His  overthrow  heap'd  happiness  upon  him, 
For  then,  and  not  till  then,  he  felt  himself. 
And  found  the  blessedness  of  being  little; 


I26  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

And,  to  add  greater  honours  to  his  age 

Than  man  could  give  him,  he  died  fearing  God. 

Katherine.  After  my  death  I  wish  no  other  herald, 
No  other  speaker  ot  my  living  actions,  7° 

To  keep  mine  honour  fromjcorruption, 
But  such  an  honest  chronicler  as  Griffith. 
vVhom  I  most  hated  living,  thou  hast  made  me, 
With  thy  religious  truth  and  modesty, 
Now  in  his  ashes  honour.     Peace  be  with  him  ! — 
Patience,  be  near  me  still ;  and  set  me  lower  : 
I  have  not  long  to  trouble  thee. — Good  Griffith, 
Cause  the  musicians  play  me  that  sad  note 
I  nam'd  my  knell,  whilst  I  sit  meditating  79 

On  that  celestial  harmony  I  go  to.        [Sad  and  solemn  music. 

Griffith.  She  is  asleep.     Good  wench,  let's  sit  down  quiet, 
For  fear  we  wake  her. — Softly,  gentle  Patience. 

The  Vision. 

Enter,  solemnly  tripping  one  after  another ;  six  Personages,  dad 
in  white  robes,  wearing  on  their  heads  garlands  of  bays,  and 
golden  vizards  on  their  faces  ;  branches  of  bays,  or  palm,  in 
their  hands.  They  first  congee  unto  her,  then  dance  ;  and,  at 
certain  changes,  the  first  two  hold  a  spare  garland  over  her 
head;  at  which  the  other  four  make  reverend  curtsies  ;  then, 
the  two  that  held  the  garland  deliver  the  same  to  the  other 
next  two,  who  observe  the  same  order  in  their  changes,  and 
holding  the  garland  over  her  head.  Which  done,  they  deliver 
the  same  garland  to  the  last  two,  who  likewise  observe  the 
same  order :  at  which,  as  it  were  by  inspiration,  she  makes 
in  her  sleep  signs  of  rejoicing,  and  holdct/i  up  her  hands  to 
heaven.  And  so  in  their  dancing  they  vanish,  carrying  tht 
garland  with  them.  The  music  continues. 

Katherine.  Spirits  of  peace,  where  are  ye?    Are  ye  all  gone. 
And  leave  me  here  in  wretchedness  behind  ye  ? 


ACT  //'.     SCENE  II.  ,-27 

Griffith.   Madam,  we  are  here. 

Katherine.  It  is  not  you  I  call  for. 

Saw  ye  none  enter  since  I  slept  ? 

Griffith.  None,  madam. 

Katherine.  No?     Saw  you  not,  even  now,  a  blessed  troop 
Invite  me  to  a  banquet,  whose  bright  faces 
Cast  thousand  beams  upon  me  like  the  sun? 
They  promis'd  me  eternal  happiness,  9° 

And  brought  me  garlands,  Griffith,  which  I  feel 
I  am  not  worthy  yet  to  wear  ;  I  shall,  assuredly. 

Griffith.   I  am  most  joyful,  madam,  such  good  dreams 
Possess  your  fancy. 

Katherine.  Bicl  the  music  leave  ; 

They  are  harsh  and  heavy  to  me.  \Music  ceases. 

Patience.  Do  you  note 

How  much  her  grace  is  alter'd  on  the  sudden  ? 
How  long  her  face  is  drawn  ?  how  pale  she  looks, 
And  of  an  earthy  cold  ?     Mark  her  eyes  ! 

Griffith.   She  is  going,  wench.     Pray,  pray. 

Patience.  Heaven  comfort  her ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Messenger.  An  't  like  your  grace,— 

Katherine.  You  are  a  saucy  fellow  ; 

Deserve  we  no  more  reverence  ? 

Griffith.  You  are  to  blame,          101 

Knowing  she  will  not  lose  her  wonted  greatness, 
To  use  so  rude  behaviour;  go  to,  kneel. 

Messenger.   I  humbly  do  entreat  your  highness'  pardon  ; 
My  haste  made  me  unmannerly.     There  is  staying 
A  gentleman  sent  from  the  king  to  see  you. 

Katherine.  Admit  him  entrance,  Griffith  ;  but  this  fellow 
Let  me  ne'er  see  again.          [Exeunt  Griffith  and  Messenger. 


Enter  GRIFFITH,  with  CAPUCIUS. 
If  rny  sight  fail  not, 

You  should  be  lord  ambassador  from  the  emperor, 
My  royal  nephew,  and  your  name  Capucius.  nc 

Capucius.   Madam,  the  same,  your  servant. 

Katherine.  O,  my  lord, 

The  times  and  titles  now  are  alter'd  strangely 
With  me  since  first  you  knew  me  !     But,  I  pray  you, 
What  is  your  pleasure  with  me  ? 

Capucius.  Noble  lady, 

First,  mine  own  service  to  your  grace ;  the  next, 
The  king's  request  that  I  would  visit  you ; 
Who  grieves  much  for  your  weakness,  and  by  me 
Sends  you  his  princely  commendations, 
And  heartily  entreats  you  take  good  comfort. 

Katherine.  O,  my  good  lord,  that  comfort  comes  too  late  . 
'T  is  like  a  pardon  after  execution.  121 

That  gentle  physic,  given  in  time,  had  cur'd  me, 
But  now  I  am  past  all  comforts  here  but  prayers. 
How  does  his  highness? 

Capucius.  Madam,  in  good  health. 

Katherine.   So  may  he  ever  do,  and  ever  flourish, 
When  I  shall  dwell  with  worms,  and  my  poor  name 
Banish'd  the  kingdom  ! — Patience,  is  that  letter 
1  caus'd  you  write  yet  sent  away  ? 

Patience.  No,  madam. 

[  Giving  it  to  Katherine. 

Katherine.  Sir,  I  most  humbly  pray  you  to  deliver 
This  to  my  lord  the  king, — 

Capucius.  Most  willing,  madam.  . « 

Katherine.   In  which  I  have  commended  to  his  goodness 
The  model  of  our  chaste  loves,  his  young  daughter — 
The  dews  of  heaven  fall  thick  in  blessings  on  her! — 
Beseeching  him  to  give  her  virtuous  breeding — 


ACT  Jl\    SCEA'E   II.  ,29 

She  is  young,  and  of  a  noble  modest  nature  ; 

I  hope,  she  will  deserve  well— and  a  little 

To  love  her  for  her  mother's  sake,  that  lov'd  him, 

Heaven  knows  how  dearly  !     My  next  poor  petition 

Is  that  his  noble  grace  would  have  some  pity 

Upon  my  wretched  women,  that  so  long  140 

Have  follow'd  both  my  fortunes  faithfully  ; 

Of  which  there  is  not  one,  I  dare  avow — 

And  now  I  should  not  lie — but  will  deserve, 

For  virtue  and  true  beauty  of  the  soul, 

For  honesty  and  decent  carriage, 

A  right  good  husband,  let  him  be  a  noble  ; 

And,  sure,  those  men  are  happy  that  shall  have  'em. 

The  last  is  for  my  men, — they  are  the  poorest, 

But  poverty  could  never  draw  'em  from  tpe, — 

That  they  may  have  their  wages  duly  paid   em,  130 

And  something  over  to  remember  me  by: 

If  heaven  had  pleas'd  to  have  given  me  longer  life, 

And  able  means,  we  had  not  parted  thus. 

These  are  the  whole  contents  ; — and,  good  my  lord, 

By  that  you  love  the  dearest  in  this  world, 

As  you  wish  Christian  peace  to  souls  departed, 

Stand  these  poor  people's  friend,  and  urge  the  king 

To  do  me  this  last  right. 

Capucius.  By  heaven,  I  will, 

Or  let  me  lose  the  fashion  of  a  man  ! 

Katherine.   I  thank  you,  honest  lord.     Remember  me     160 
In  all  humility  unto  his  highness  ; 
Say  his  long  trouble  now  is  passing 
Out  of  this  world  ;  tell  him  in  death  I  bless'd  him, 
For  so  I  will. — Mine  eyes  grow  dim. — Farewell, 
My  lord.— Griffith,  farewell. — Nay,  Patience, 
You  must  not  leave  me  yet:  I  must  to  bed; 
Call  in  more  women. — When  I  am  dead,  good  wench, 
Let  me  be  us'd  with  honour ;  strew  me  over 

I 


130 


KING  HENRY  VIII. 


With  maiden  flowers,  that  all  the  world  may  know 

I  was  a  chaste  wife  to  my  grave.     Embalm  me,  170 

Then  lay  me  forth ;  although  unqueen'd,  yet  like 

A  queen,  and  daughter  to  a  king,  inter  me. 

I  can  no  more. —  [Exeunt,  leading  Kathcrine, 


CHRIST  CHURCH,  OXFORD. 


PALACE  AT  GREENWICH.      RETURNING  FROM   THE  CHRISTENING. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I.    A  Gallery  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  GARDINER,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  a  Page  with  a  torch 

before  him. 

Gardiner.  It 's  one  o'clock,  boy,  is  't  not? 
Boy.  It  hath  struck 

Gardiner.  These  should  be  hours  for  necessities, 

Not  for  delights  ;  times  to  repair  our  nature 

With  comforting  repose,  and  not  for  u$ 

To  waste  these  times. — 


I32  KING   HENRY  /'///. 


Enter  SIR  THOMAS  LOVELL. 

Good  hour  of  night,  Sir  Thomas, 
Whither  so  late  ? 

Lovell.  Came  you  from  the  king,  my  lord  ? 

Gardiner.  I  did,  Sir  Thomas,  and  left  him  at  primero 
With  the  Duke  of  Suffolk. 

Lovell.  I  must  to  him  too, 

Before  he  go  to  bed.     I  '11  take  my  leave. 

Gardiner.  Not  yet,  Sir  Thomas  Lovell.     What 's  the  mat- 
ter ?  10 

It  seems  you  are  in  haste  ;  an  if  there  be 

No  great  offence  belongs  to  't,  give  your  friend 

Some  touch  of  your  late  business.     Affairs  that  walk — 

As  they  say  spirits  do — at  midnight  have 

In  them  a  wilder  nature  than  the  business 

That  seeks  dispatch  by  day. 

Lovell.  My  lord,  I  love  you, 

And  durst  commend  a  secret  to  your  ear, 
Much  weightier  than  this  work.     The  queen  's  in  labour. 
They  say,  in  great  extremity,  and  fear'd 
She  '11  with  the  labour  end. 

Gardiner.  The  fruit  she  goes  with  20 

I  pray  for  heartily,  that  it  may  find 
Good  time,  and  live ;  but  for  the  stock,  Sir  Thomas, 
I  wish  it  grubb'd  up  now. 

Lovell.  Methinks  I  could 

Cry  the  amen ;  and  yet  my  conscience  says 
She  's  a  good  creature,  and,  sweet  lady,  does 
Deserve  our  better  wishes. 

Gardiner.  But,  sir,  sir, — 

Hear  me,  Sir  Thomas  :  you  're  a  gentleman 
Of  mine  own  way;  I  know  you  wise,  religious  ; 
And,  let  me  tell  you,  it  will  ne'er  be  well, 
'T  will  not,  Sir  Thomas  I,ovell,  take  't  of  me,  30 


ACT  V.     SCENE  /. 


133 


Till  Cranmer,  Cromwell,  her  two  hands,  and  she, 
Sleep  i»i  their  graves. 

Lovell.  Now,  sir,  you  speak  of  two 

The  most  remark'd  i'  the  kingdom.    '  As  for  Cromwell, 
Beside  that  of  the  jewel-house,  is  made  master 
()'  the  rolls,  and  the  king's  secretary;  further,  sir, 
Stands  in  the  gap  and  trade  of  more  preferments, 
With  which  the  time  will  load  him.     The  archbishop 
Is  the  king's  hand  and  tongue  ;  and  who  dare  speak 
One  syllable  against  him  ? 

Gardiner.  Yes,  yes,  Sir  Thomas, 

There  are  that  dare,  and  I  myself  have  ventur'd  4o 

To  speak  my  mind  of  him  ;  and,  indeed,  this  day — 
Sir,  I  may  tell  it  you,  I  think — I  have 
Incens'd  the  lords  o'  the  council  that  he  is — 
For  so  I  know  he  is,  they  know  he  is — 
A  most  arch  heretic,  a  pestilence 
That  does  infect  the  land  ;  with  which  they  mov'd 
Have  broken  with  the  king,  who  hath  so  far 
Given  ear  to  our  complaint — of  his  great  grace 
And  princely  care,  foreseeing  those  fell  mischiefs 
Our  reasons  laid  before  him — hath  commanded  50 

To-morrow  morning  to  the  council-board 
He  be  convented.     He  's  a  rank  weed,  Sir  Thomas, 
And  we  must  root  him  out.     From  your  affairs 
I  hinder  you  too  long;  good  night,  Sir  Thomas. 

Lovell.   Many  good  nights,  my  lord.      I  rest  your  servant. 

\Exepnt  Gardiner  and  Page. 

As  LOVELL  is  going  out,  enter  the  King  and  the  DUKE  OF 

SUFFOLK. 

King  Henry.   Charles,  I  will  play  no  more  to-night : 
My  mind  's  not  on  't;  you  are  too  hard  for  me. 
Suffolk.  Sir,  I  did  never  win  of  you  before. 
King  Henry.  But  lijtle,  Charles  ; 


134  KING  HEKRY  VI I  I. 

Nor  shall  not  when  my  fancy  's  on  my  play. —  60 

Now,  Lovell,  from  the  queen  what  is  the  news  ? 

Lovell.   I  could  not  personally  deliver  to  her 
What  you  commanded  me ;  but  by  her  woman 
I  sent  your  message,  who  return'd  her  thanks 
In  the  greatest  humbleness,  and  desir'd  your  highness 
Most  heartily  to  pray  for  her. 

King  Henry.  What  say'st  thou,  ha  ? 

To  pray  for  her?  what,  is  she  crying  out? 

Lovell.  So  said  her  woman,  and  that  her  sufferance  made 
Almost  each  pang  a  death. 

King  Henry.  Alas,  good  lady  ! 

Suffolk.  God  safely  quit  her  of  her  burthen,  and  7o 

With  gentle  travail,  to  the  gladding  of 
Your  highness  with  an  heir  ! 

King  Henry.  'T  is  midnight,  Charles  ; 

Prithee,  to  bed,  and  in  thy  prayers  remember 
The  estate  of  my  poor  queen.     Leave  me  alone, 
For  I  must  think  of  that  which  company 
Would  not  be  friendly  to. 

Suffolk.  •        I  wish  your  highness 

A  quiet  night,  and  my  good  mistress  will 
Remember  in  my  prayers. 

King  Henry.  Charles,  good  night. — 

[Exit  Suffolk. 

Enter  SIR  ANTHONY  DENNY. 
Well,  sir,  what  follows  ? 

Denny.  Sir,  I  have  brought  my  lord  the  archbishop,         so 
As  you  commanded  me. 

King  Henry.  Ha  !  Canterbury  ? 

Denny.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

King  Henry.  'T  is  true  ;  where  is  he,  Denny  ? 

Denny.  He  attends  your  highness'  pleasure. 

King  Henry.  Bring  him  to  us. 

[Exit  Denny. 


ACT   V.     SCENE  /.  I35 

Lovell.  [Aside]  This  is  about  that  which  the  bishop  spake  ; 
I  am  happily  come  hither. 

Enter  DENNY  with  CRANMER. 

King  Henry.  Avoid  the  gallery.  [Lovell  seems  to  stayJ] 

Ha  ! — I  have  said. — Be  gone. 
What ! —  [Exeunt  Lovell  and  Denny. 

Cranmer.  I  am  fearful. — Wherefore  frowns  he  thus  ? 
T  is  his  aspect  of  terror ;  all  's  not  well. 

King  Henry.   How  now,  my  lord  !     You  do  desire  to  know 
Wherefore  I  sent  for  you. 

Cranmer.  [Kneeling]         It  is  my  duty          .  90 

To  attend  your  highness'  pleasure. 

King  Henry.  Pray  you,  arise, 

My  good  and  gracious  Lord  of  Canterbury. 
Come,  you  and  I  must  walk  a  turn  together; 
I  have  news  to  tell  you.     Come,  come,  give  me  your  hand. 
Ah,  my  good  lord,  I  grieve  at  what  I  speak, 
And  am  right  sorry  to  repeat  what  follows. 
I  have,  and  most  unwillingly,  of  late 
Heard  many  grievous,  I  do  say,  my  lord, 
Grievous  complaints  of  you,  which,  being  consider'd, 
Have  mov'd  us  and  our  council,  that  you  shall  100 

This  morning  come  before  us;  where  I  know 
You  cannot  with  such  freedom  purge  yourself 
But  that,  till  further  trial  in  those  charges 
Which  will  require  your  answer,  you  must  take 
Your  patience  to  you,  and  be  well  contented 
To  make  your  house  our  Tower.     You  a  brother  of  us, 
It  fits  we  thus  proceed,  or  else  no  witness 
Would  come  against  you. 

Cranmer.  [Kneeling  agaifi]  I  humbly  thank  your  highness, 
And  am  right  glad  to  catch  this  good  occasion 
Most  throughly  to  be  winnow'd,  where  my  chaff  no 

And  corn  shall  fly  asunder  ;  for,  I  know, 


136  A'/.VG  HENRY   VIII. 

There  's  none  stands  under  more  calumnious  tongues 
Than  I  myself,  poor  man. 

King  Henry.  Stand  up,  good  Canterbury  ; 

Thy  truth  and  thy  integrity  is  rooted 
In  us,  thy  friend.     Give  me  thy  hand,  stand  up; 
Prithee,  let  's  walk.     Now,  by  my  halidom, 
What  manner  of  man  are  you?     My  lord,  I  look'd 
You  would  have  given  me  your  petition  that 
I  should  have  ta'en  some  pains  to  bring  together 
Yourself  and  your  accusers,  and  to  have  heard  you,  120 

Without  indurance,  further. 

Cranmer.     .  Most  dread  liege, 

The  good  I  stand  on  is  my  truth  and  honesty ; 
If  they  shall  fail,  I,  with  mine  enemies, 
Will  triumph  o'er  my  person,  which  I  weigh  not, 
Being  of  those  virtues  vacant.     I  fear  nothing 
What  can  be  said  against  me. 

King  Henry.  Know  you  not 

How  your  state  stands  i'  the  world,  with  the  whole  world  ? 
Your  enemies  are  many,  and  not  small;  their  practices 
Must  bear  the  same  proportion,  and  not  ever 
The  justice  and  the  truth  o'  the  question  carries  .  130 

The  due  o'  the  verdict  with  it.     At  what  ease 
Might  corrupt  minds  procure  knaves  as  corrupt 
To  swear  against  you  !  such  things  have  been  done. 
You  are  potently  oppos'd,  and  with  a  malice 
Of  as  great  size.     Ween  you  of  better  luck, 
I  mean  in  perjur'd  witness,  than  your  Mastei, 
Whose  minister  you  are,  whiles  here  he  liv'd 
Upon  this  naughty  earth  ?     Go  to,  go  to  ; 
You  take  a  precipice  for  no  leap  of  danger, 
And  woo  your  own  destruction. 

Cranmer.  God  and  your  majesty     M° 

Protect  mine  innocence,  or  T  fall  into 
The  trap  is  laid  for  me  ! 


ACT   r.     SCENE   I. 


137 


A7//£-  Henry.  Be  of  good  cheer ; 

1'hey  shall  no  more  prevail  than  we  give  way  to. 
Keep  comfort  to  you  ;  and  this  morning  see 
You  do  appear  before  them.     If  they  shall  chance, 
In  charging  you  with  matters,  to  commit  you, 
The  best  persuasions  to  the  contrary 
Fail  not  to  use,  and  with  what  vehemency 
The  occasion  shall  instruct  you  ;  if  entreaties 
Will  render  you  no  remedy,  this  ring  150 

Deliver  them,  and  your  appeal  to  us 
There  make  before  them. — Look,  the  good  man  weeps; 
He  's  honest,  on  mine  honour. — God's  blest  mother! 
I  swear  he  is  true-hearted,  and  a  soul 
None  better  in  my  kingdom. — Get  you  gone, 
And  do  as  I  have  bid  you. — \Exit  Cranmerl\     He  has  stran 

gled 
His  language  in  his  tears. 

Enter  an  Old  Lady. 

Gentleman.  [Within]  Come  back ;  what  mean  you  ? 

Lady.  I  '11  not  come  back ;  the  tidings  that  I  bring 
Will  make  my  boldness  manners. — Now,  good  angels 
Fly  o'er  thy  royal  head,  and  shade  thy  person  160 

Under  their  blessed  wings  ! 

King  Henry.  Now,  by  thy  looks 

I  guess  thy  message.     Is  the  queen  deliver'd  ? 
Say  ay,  and  of  a  boy. 

Lady.  Ay,  ay,  my  liege, 

And  of  a  lovely  boy ;  the  God  of  heaven 
Both  now  and  ever  bless  her ! — 't  is  a  girl 
Promises  boys  hereafter.     Sir,  your  queen 
Desires  your  visitation,  and  to  be 
Acquainted  with  this  stranger;  't  is  as  like  you 
As  cherrv  is  to  cherry. 

King  Henry.  Lovell, — 


I38  KING    HEXRY   I'///. 

Enter  LOVELL. 

Lovell.  Sir.  i6g 

King  Henry.  Give  her    an  hundred   marks.     I  '11   to  the 
queen.  [Exit  King. 

Lady.  An  hundred  marks !     By  this  light  I  '11  ha'  more. 

An  ordinary  groom  is  for  such  payment ; 

I  will  have  more,  or  scold  it  out  of  him. 

Said  I  for  this  the  girl  was  like  to  him  ? 

I  will  have  more,  or  else  unsay  't;  and  now, 

While  it  is  hot,  I'll  put  it  to  the  issue.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.     The  Lobby  before  the  Council-chamber. 

Enter  CRANMER  ;  Servants,  Door-keeper,  etc.,  attending. 

Cranmer.  I  hope  I  am  not  too  late ;  and  yet  the  gentleman. 
That  was  sent  to  me  from  the  council,  pray'd  me 
To  make  great  haste.     All  fast?  what  means  this?     Ho! 
Who  waits  there? — Sure,  you  know  me? 

Door-keeper.  Yes,  my  lord ; 

But  yet  I  cannot  help  you. 

Cranmer.  Why? 

Door-keeper.  Your  grace  must  wait  till  you  be  call'd  for. 

Enter  DOCTOR  BUTTS. 

Cranmer.  So. 

Butts.  [Aside]  This  is  a  piece  of  malice.     I  am  glad 
I  came  this  way  so  happily ;  the  king 
Shall  understand  it  presently.  [Exit  Butts. 

Cranmer.  [Aside]  'T  is  Butts,  10 

The  king's  physician.     As  he  pass'd  along, 
How  earnestly  he  cast  his  eyes  upon  me! 
Pray  heaven  he  sound  not  my  disgrace  !     For  certain 
This  is  of  purpose  laid  by  some  that  hate  me— 
God  turn  their  hearts !   I  never  sought  their  malice — 


ACT  V.    SCENE  III.  139 

To  quench  mine  honour;  they  would  shame  to  make  me 
Wait  else  at  door,  a  fellow  counsellor 
'Along  boys,  grooms,  and  lackeys.     But  their  pleasures 
Must  be  fulfilled,  and  I  attend  with  patience. 

Enter  the  King  and  BUTTS,  at  a  window  above. 

Butts.   I  '11  show  your  grace  the  strangest  sight — 

King  Henry.  What 's  that,  Butts  ? 

Butts.   I  think  your  highness  saw  this  many  a  day.  21 

King  Henry.  Body  o'  me,  where  is  it  ? 

Butts.  There,  my  lord ; 

The  high  promotion  of  his  grace  of  Canterbury, 
Who  holds  his  state  at  door  'mongst  pursuivants, 
Pages,  and  footboys. 

King  Henry.  Ha  !     T  is  he  indeed. 

Is  this  the  honour  they  do  one  another? 
'T  is  well  there  's  one  above  'em  yet.     I  had  thought 
They  had  parted  so  much  honesty  among  'em — 
At  least,  good  manners — as  not  thus  to  suffer 
A  man  of  his  place,  and  so  near  our  favour,  *> 

To  dance  attendance  on  their  lordships'  pleasures, 
And  at  the  door,  too,  like  a  post  with  packets. 
By  holy  Mary,  Butts,  there  's  knavery: 
Let  'em  alone,  and  draw  the  curtain  close  ; 
We  shall  hear  more  anon. —  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  III.     The  Council-chamber. 

Enter  the  Lord  Chancellor,  the  DUKE  OF  SUFFOLK,  EARL  OF 
SURREY,  Lord  Chamberlain,  GARDINER,  and  CROMWELL. 
The  Chancellor  places  himself  at  the  upper  end  of  the  table, 
on  the  left  hand ;  a  seat  being  left  void  above  him,  as  for  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  The  rest  seat  themselves  in  order 
on  each  side.  Cromwell  at  the  lower  end,  as  secretary. 
Chancellor.  Speak  to  the  business,  master  secretary; 

Why  are  we  met  in  council  ? 


1 40  KING   HENRY  VI IT. 

Cromwell.  Please  your  honours, 

The  chief  cause  concerns  his  grace  of  Canterbury. 

Gardiner.    Has  he  had  knowledge  of  it? 

Cromwell.  Yes. 

Norfolk.  Who  waits  there  ? 

Door-keeper.   Without,  my  noble  lords? 

Gardiner.  Yes. 

Door-keeper.  My  lord  archbishop, 

And  has  done  half  an  hour,  to  know  your  pleasures. 

Chancellor.  Let  him  come  in. 

Door-keeper.  Your  grace  may  enter  now. 

\Cranmer  approaches  the  council-table. 

Chancellor.  My  good  lord  archbishop,  I  'm  very,  sorry 
To  sit  here  at  this  present  and  behold 

That  chair  stand  empty:  but  we  all  are  men,  10 

In  our  own  natures  frail,  and  capable 
Of  our  flesh;  few  are  angels  :  out  of  which  frailty 
And  want  of  wisdom  you,  that  best  should  teach  us, 
Have  misdemean'd  yourself,  and  not  a  little, 
Toward  the  king  first,  then  his  laws,  in  filling 
The  whole  realm,  by  your  teaching  and  your  chaplains — 
For  so  we  are  inform'd — with  new  opinions, 
Divers  and  dangerous,  which  are  heresies, 
And,  not  reform'd,  may  prove  pernicious. 

Gardiner.  Which  reformation  must  be  sudden,  too,          20 
My  noble  lords ;  for  those  that  tame  wild  horses 
Pace  'em  not  in  their  hands  to  make  'em  gentle, 
But  stop  their  mouths  with  stubborn  bits,  and  spur  them 
Till  they  obey  the  manage      If  we  suffer, 
Out  of  our  easiness  and  childish  pity 
To  one  man's  honour,  this  contagious  sickness, 
Farewell  all  physic  ;  and  what  follows  then  ? 
Commotions,  uproars,  with  a  general  taint 
Of  the  whole  state  ;  as,  of  late  days,  our  neighbours, 
The  upper  Germany,  can  dearly  witness,  30 

Yrt  fui shly  pitied  in  our  memories. 


ACT  V.     SCENE  ///.  j^, 

Cranmer.  My  good  lords,  hitherto,  in  all  the  progress 

Both  of  my  life  and  office,  I  have  labourd, 

And  with  no  little  study,  that  my  teaching 

And  the  strong  course  of  my  authority 

Might  go  one  way,  and  safely  ;  and  the  end 

Was  ever  to  do  well :  nor  is  there  living  — 

I  speak  it  with  a  single  heart,  my  lords— 

A  man  that  more  detests,  more  stirs  against, 

Both  in  his  private  conscience  and  his  place,  40 

Defacers  of  a  public  peace  than  I  do. 

Pray  heaven  the  king  may  never  find  a  heart 

With  less  allegiance  in  it !     Men  that  make 

Envy  and  crooked  malice  nourishment 

Dare  bite  the  best.     I  do  beseech  your  lordships, 
That  in  this  case  of  justice  my  accusers, 
Be  what  they  will,  may  stand  forth  face  to  face, 
And  freely  urge  against  me. 

Suffolk.  Nay,  my  lord, 

That  cannot  be ;  you  are  a  counsellor, 

And  by  that  virtue  no  man  dare  accuse  you.  so 

Gardiner.  My  lord,  because   we  have  business  of  more 

moment, 

We  will  be  short  with  you.     'T  is  his  highness'  pleasure, 
And  our  consent,  for  better  trial  of  you, 
From  hence  you  be  committed  to  the  Tower, 
Where,  being  but  a  private  man  again, 
You  shall  know  many  dare  accuse  you  boldly, — 
More  than,  I  fear,  you  are  provided  for. 

Crunmer.  Ay,  my  good  Lord  of  Winchester,  I  thank  you  -, 
You  are  always  my  good  friend :  if  your  will  pass, 
I  shall  both  find  your  lordship  judge  and  juror,  6« 

You  are  so  merciful.     I  see  your  end  ; 
'T  is  my  undoing.     Love  and  meekness,  lord, 
Become  a  churchman  better  than  ambition  .• 
\Vin  straying  souls  with  modesty  again, 


I42 


KING   HENRY   VIII. 


Cast  none  away.     That  1  shall  clear  myself, 
Lay  all  the  weight  ye  can  upon  my  patience, 
I  make  as  little  doubt  as  you  do  conscience 
In  doing  daily  wrongs.      1  could  say  more, 
But  reverence  to  your  calling  makes  me  modest. 

Gardiner.   My  lord,  my  lord,  you  are  a  sectary  ;  70 

That 's  the  plain  truth  :  your  painted  gloss  discovers, 
To  men  that  understand  you,  words  and  weakness. 

Cromivdl.   My  Lord  of  Winchester,  you  are  a  little, 
By  your  good  favour,  too  sharp  ;  men  so  noble, 
However  faulty,  yet  should  find  respect 
For  what  they  have  been  :  't  is  a  cruelty 
To  load  a  falling  man. 

Gardiner.  Good  master  secretary, 

I  cry  your  honour  mercy  ;  you  may,  worst 
Of  all  this  table,  say  so. 

Cromwell.  Why,  my  lord  ? 

Gardiner.  Do  not  I  know  you  for  a  favourer  80 

Of  this  new  sect?  ye  are  not  sound. 

Cromwell.  Not  sound  ? 

Gardiner.  Not  sound,  I  say. . 

Cromwell.  Would  you  were  half  so  honest ! 

Men's  prayers,  then,  would  seek  you,  not  their  fears. 

Gardiner.  I  shall  remember  this  bold  language. 

Cromwell.  Do. 

Remember  your  bold  life  too. 

Chancellor.  This  is  too  much  ; 

Forbear,  for  shame,  my  lords. 

Gardiner.  I  have  done. 

Cromwell.  And  I. 

Chancellor.  Then  thus  for  you,  my  lord. — It  stands  agreed, 
I  take  it,  by  all  voices,  that  forthwith 
You  be  convey'd  to  the  Tower  a  prisoner, 
There  to  remain  till  the  king's  further  pleasure  90 

Be  known  unto  us.     Are  you  all  agreed,  lords? 


ACT  V.     SCKA'E   III,  ,43 

All.  We  are. 

Cranmer.  Is  there  no  other  way  of  mercy, 

But  I  must  needs  to  the  Tower,  my  lords  ? 

Gardiner.  What  other 

Would  you  expect  ?     You  are  strangely  troublesome. 
Let  some  o'  the  guard  be  ready  there. 

Enter  Guard. 

Cranmer.  For  me  ? 

Must  I  go  like  a  traitor  thither? 

Gardiner.  Receive  him, 

And  see  him  safe  i'  the  Tower. 

Cranmer.  Stay,  good  my  lords  ; 

I  have  a  little  yet  to  say.—  Look  there,  my  lords. 
By  virtue  of  that  ring  I  take  my  cause 

Out  of  the  gripes  of  cruel  men,  and  give  it  100 

To  a  most  noble  judge,  the  king  my  master. 

Chamberlain.  This  is  the  king's  ring. 

Surrey.  'T  is  no  counterfeit. 

Suffolk.  T  is  the  right  ring,  by  heaven  !     I  told  ye  all, 
When  we  first  put  this  dangerous  stone  a  rolling, 
'T  would  fall  upon  ourselves. 

Norfolk.  Do  you  think,  my  lords, 

The  king  will  suffer  but  the  little  finger 
Of  this  man  to  be  vex'd? 

Chancellor.  'T  is  now  too  certain, 

How  much  more  is  his  life  in  value  with  him. 
Would  I  were  fairly  out  on  't ! 

Cromwell.  My  mind  gave  me, 

In  seeking  tales  and  informations  no 

Against  this  man,  whose  honesty  the  devil 
And  his  disciples  only  envy  at, 
Ye  blew  the  fire  that  burns  ye.     Now  have  at  ye. 


1^4  KING  iiENKY  yiu. 

i 

Enter  the  King,  frowning  on  them;  he  takes  his  seat. 

Gardiner.  Dread  sovereign,  how  much  are  we  bound  tc 

heaven 

In  daily  thanks,  that  gave  us  such  a  prince, 
Not  only  good  and  wise,  but  most  religious  ; 
One  that  in  all  obedience  makes  the  church 
The  chief  aim  of  his  honour,  and,  to  strengthen 
That  holy  duty,  out  of  dear  respect, 

His  royal  self  in  judgment  comes  to  hear  iac 

The  cause  betwixt  her  and  this  great  offender. 

King  Henry.  You  were  ever  good  at  sudden  commenda- 
tions, 

Bishop  of  Winchester,  but  know,  I  come  not 
To  hear  such  flattery  now,  and  in  my  presence ; 
They  are  too  thin  and  bare  to  hide  offences. 
To  me  you  cannot  reach  you  play  the  spaniel, 
And  think  with  wagging  of  your  tongue  to  win  me; 
But  whatsoe'er  thou  tak'st  me  for,  I  'm  sure 
Thou  hast  a  cruel  nature,  and  a  bloody. — 
[T0  Cranmer~\  Good  man,  sit  down.     Now,  let  me  see  the 
proudest,  13° 

He  that  dares  most,  but  wag  his  finger  at  thee  ; 
By  all  that 's  holy,  he  had  better  starve 
Than  but  once  think  this  place  becomes  thee  not. 

Surrey.  May  it  please  your  grace, — 

King  Henry.  No,  sir,  it  does  not  please  me, 

I  had  thought  I  had  had  men  of  some  understanding 
And  wisdom  of  my  council,  but  I  find  none. 
Was  it  discretion,  lords,  to  let  this  man, 
This  good  man— few  of  you  deserve  that  title, — 
This  honest  man,  wait  like  a  lousy  footboy 
At  chamber  door  ?  and  one  as  great  as  you  are  ?  14° 

Why,  what  a  shame  was  this  !     Did  my  commission 
Bid  ye  so  far  forget  yourselves  ?     I  gave  ye 


ACT  I'. 

Power  as  he  was  a  counsellor  to  try  him. 
Not  as  a  groom.     There  's  some  of  \v.  1  see, 
More  out  of  malice  than  integrity, 
Would  try  him  to  the  utmost,  had  \\-  mean  ; 
Which  ye  shall  never  have  while  1  live. 

Chancellor.  Thus  tar, 

My  most  dread  sovereign,  may  it  like  your  grace 
To  let  my  tongue  excuse  all.     What  was  purposed 
Concerning  his  imprisonment  was  rather —  150 

If  there  be  faith  in  men — meant  for  his  trial, 
And  fair  purgation  to  the  world,  than  malice, — 
I  'm  sure,  in  me. 

King  Henry.        Well,  well,  my  lords,  respect  him  • 
Take  him,  and  use  him  well ;  he  's  worthy  of  it. 
I  will  say  thus  much  for  him  :  if  a  prince 
May  be  beholding  to  a  subject,  I 
Am,  for  his  love  and  service,  so  to  him. 
Make  me  no  more  ado,  but  all  embrace  him  ; 
Be  friends,  for  shame,  my  lords  ! — My  Lord  of  Canterbury, 
I  have  a  suit  which  you  must  not  deny  me,  160 

That  is,  a  fair  young  maid  that  yet  wants  baptism ; 
You  must  be  godfather,  and  answer  for  her. 

Cranmer.  The  greatest  monarch  now  alive  may  glory 
In  such  an  honouf ;  how  may  I  deserve  it, 
That  am  a  poor  and  humble  subject  to  you  ? 

King  Henry.    Come,  come,  my    lord,  you  'd   spare  your 

spoons.     You  shall  have 

Two  noble  partners  with  you, — the  old  Duchess  of  Norfolk, 
And  Lady  Marquess  Dorset;  will  these  please  you? — 
Once  more,  my  Lord  of  Winchester,  I  charge  you, 
Embrace  and  love  this  man. 

Gardiner.  With  a  true  heart  170 

And  brother-love,  I  do  it. 

Cranmer.  And  let  heaven 

Witness  how  clear  I  hold  this  confirmation. 


146  KING  HENRY   VI I L 

King  Henry.  Good  man  !  those  joyful  tears  show  thy  true 

heart. 

The  common  voice,  I  see,  is  verified 
Of  thee,  which  says  thus, '  Do  my  Lord  of  Canterbury 
A  shrewd  turn,  and  he  is  your  friend  for  ever.' 
Come,  lords,  we  trifle  time  away  ;  I  long 
To  have  this  young  one  made  a  Christian. 
As  I  have  made  ye  one,  lords,  one  remain  ;  Vc 

So  I  grow  stronger,  you  more  honour  gain.  \JExeunt. 

SCENE  IV.     The  Palace  Yard. 
Noise  and  tumult  within.     Enter  Porter  and  his  Man. 

Porter.  You'll  leave  your  noise  anon,  ye  rascals!  do  you 
take  the  court  for  Parish-garden  ?  ye  rude  slaves,  leave  your 
gaping ! 

[One  within^  Good  master  porter,  I  belong  to  the  larder. 

Porter.  Belong  to  the  gallows,  and  be  hanged,  you  rogue ! 
Is  this  a  place  to  roar  in? — Fetch  me  a  dozen  crab-tree 
staves,  and  strong  ones;  these  are  but  switches  to  'em. — I  '11 
scratch  your  heads!  you  must  be  seeing  christenings!  Do 
you  look  for  ale  and  cakes  here,  you  rude  rascals  ? 

Man.  Pray,  sir,  be  patient :  't  is  as  much  impossible,        ic 
Unless  we  sweep  'em  from  the  door  with  cannons, 
To  scatter  'em,  as  't  is  to  make  'em  sleep 
On  May-day  morning ;  which  will  never  be. 
We  may  as  well  push  against  Paul's  as  stir  'em. 

Porter.  How  got  they  in,  and  be  hang'd  ? 

Man.   Alas,  I  know  not ;  how  gets  the  tide  in? 
As  much  as  one  sound  cudgel  of  four  foot — 
You  see  the  poor  remainder — could  distribute, 
I  made  no  spare,  sir. 

Porter.  You  did  nothing,  sir. 

Man.  I  am  not  Samson,  nor  Sir  Guy,  nor  Colbrand,  ao 
To  mow  'em  down  before  me  ;  but  if  I  spar'd  any 


ACT  V.     SCENE   IV.  147 

That  had  a  head  to  hit,  either  young  or  old, 

Let  me  ne:er  hope  to  see  a  chine  again  ; 

And  that  I  would  not  for  a  cow, — God  save  her! 

|  One  within.  \   I  )o  you  hear,  master  porter  ? 

Porter.  I  shall  be  with  you  presently,  good  master  puppy. 
-Keep  the  door  close,  sirrah. 

Man.  What  would  you  have  me  do? 

Porter.  What  should  you  do  but  knock  'em  down  by  the 
dozens?  Is  this  Moorfielcls  to  muster  in  ?  3o 

Man.  There  is  a  fellow  somewhat  near  the  door;  he  should 
be  a  brazier  by  his  face,  for,  o'  my  conscience,  twenty  of  the 
dog-days  now  reign  in  's  nose  :  all  that  stand  about  him  are 
under  the  line  ;  they  need  no  other  penance.  That  fire-drake 
did  I  hit  three  times  on  the  head,  and  three  times  was  his 
nose  discharged  against  me  :  he  stands  there,  like  a  mortar- 
piece,  to  blow  us.  There  was  a  haberdasher's  wife  of  small 
wit  near  him,  that  railed  upon  me  till  her  pinked  porringer  fell 
off  her  head,  for  kindling  such  a  combustion  in  the  state.  I 
missed  the  meteor  once,  and  hit  that  woman,  who  cried  out, 
'Clubs!'  when  I  might  see  from  far  some  forty  truncheoners 
draw  to  her  succour,  which  were  the  hope  o'  the  Strand,  where 
she  was  quartered.  They  fell  on  ;  I  made  good  my  place  ; 
at  length  they  came  to  the  broomstaff  to  me  :  I  defied  'em 
still ;  when  suddenly  a  file  of  boys  behind  'em,  loose  shot, 
delivered  such  a  shower  of  pebbles  that  I  was  fain  to  draw 
mine  honour  inland  let  'em  win  the  work.  The  devil  was 
amongst  'em,  I  think,  surely.  48 

Porter.  These  are  the  youths  that  thunder  at  a  playhouse, 
and  fight  for  bitten  apples  ;  that  no  audience  but  the  Tribu- 
lation of  Tower-hill,  or  the  limbs  of  Limehouse,  their  dear 
brothers,  are  able  to  endure.  I  have  some  of  'em  in  Limbo 
Patrum,  and  there  they  are  like  to  dance  these  three  days, 
besides  the  running  banquet  of  two  beadles  that  is  to  come. 


148  KING   HENRY   VIII. 

Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Chamberlain.   Mercy  o'  me,  what  a  multitude  are  here ! 
They  grow  still,  too;  from  all  parts  they  are  coming, 
As  if  we  kept  a  fair  here  !     Where  are  these  porters, 
These  lazy  knaves? — Ye  've  made  a  fine  hand,  fellows  ; 
There  's  a  trim  rabble  let  in.     Are  all  these 
Your  faithful  friends  o'  the  suburbs?     We  shall  have  60 

Great  store  of  room,  no  doubt,  left  for  the  ladies, 
When  they  pass  back  from  the  christening. 

Porter.  An  't  please  your  honour, 

WTe  are  but  men  ;  and  what  so  many  may  do, 
Not  being  torn  a -pieces,  we  have  done : 
An  army  cannot  rule  'em. 

Chamberlain.  As  I  live, 

If  the  king  blame  me  for  't,  I  '11  lay  ye  all 
By  the  heels,  and  suddenly  ;  and  on  your  heads 
Clap  round  fines  for  neglect.     Ye  're  lazy  knaves, 
And  here  ye  lie  baiting  of  bombards  when 
Ye  should  do  service.      Hark  !  the  trumpets  sound;  7° 

They  're  come  already  from  the  christening. 
Go,  break  among  the  press,  and  find  a  way  out 
To  let  the  troop  pass  fairly,  or  I  '11  find 
A  Marshalsea  shall  hold  ye  play  these  two  months. 

Porter.  Make  way  there  for  the  princess  ! 

Man.  Vou  great  fellow, 

Stand  close  up,  or  I  '11  make  your  head  ache. 

Porter.  You  i'  the  camblet,  get  up  o'  the  rail ; 
I  '11  pick  you  o'er  the  pales  else.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  V.     The  Palace  at  Greenwich. 

Enter  Trumpets,  sounding  ;  then  two  Aldermen,  Lord  Mayor, 
Garter,  CRANMER,  DUKE  OF  NORFOLK,  with  his  marshaPs 
j/^  DUKE  OF  SUFFOLK, /a*?  Noblemen  bearing  great  s 


ACT   /'.     SCKXE    I'. 


1 49 


ing  bowls  for  the  christening  gifts  ,-  then,  four  Noblemen  bear- 
ing a  canopy,  under  which  the  Drrmss  OF  NORFOLK,  god- 
mother, bearing  the  child  richly  habited  in  a  mantle,  etc.,  train 
borne  by  a  lady;  then  follows  the  MARCHIONESS  OF  DORSET, 
the  other  godmother,  and  ladies.  The  Troop  pass  once  about 
the  stage,  and  Garter  speaks. 

Garter.  Heaven,  from  thy  endless  goodness,  send  prosper- 
ous life,  long,  and  ever  happy,  to  the  high  and  mighty  prin- 
cess of  England.  Elizabeth  ! 

Flourish.     Enter  King  and  7 rain.  • 

Cranmer.  And  to  your  royal  grace,  and  the  good  queen, 

\Knceling. 

My  noble  partners  and  myself  thus  pray  : 
All  comfort,  joy,  in  this  most  gracious  lady, 
Heaven  ever  laid  up  to  make  parents  happy, 
May  hourly  fall  upon  ye  ! 

King  Henry.  Thank  you,  good  lord  archbishop  ; 

What  is  her  name? 

Cranmer.  Elizabeth. 

King  Henry.  Stand  up,  lord. — 

[The  King  kisses  the  child. 

With  this  kiss  take  my  blessing  ;  God  protect  thee  !  10 

Into  whose  hand  I  give  thy  life. 

Cran  mer.  Amen. 

King  Henry.   My  noble  gossips,  ye  have  been  too  prodigal. 
I  thank  ye  heartily  ;  so  shall  this  lady, 
When  she  has  so  much  English. 

Cranmer.  Let  me  speak,  sir, 

For  heaven  now  bids  me  ;  and  the  words  I  utter 
Let  none  think  flattery,  for  they  '11  find  'em  truth. 
This  royal  infant — heaven  still  move  about  her! — 
Though  in  her  cradle,  yet  now  promises 
Upon  this  land  a  thousand  thousand  blessings, 
Which  time  shall  bring  to  ripeness.     She  shall  be —  M 


I5o  KING  HENRY  VI II. 

But  few  now  living  can  behold  that  goodness — 

A  pattern  to  all  princes  living  with  her, 

And  all  that  shall  succeed  ;  Saba  was  never 

More  covetous  of  wisdom  and  fair  virtue 

Than  this  pure  soul  shall  be:  all  princely  graces, 

That  mould  up  such  a  mighty  piece  as  this  is, 

With  all  the  virtues  that  attend  the  good, 

Shall  still  be  doubled  on  her ;  truth  shall  nurse  her, 

Holy  and  heavenly  thoughts  still  counsel  her; 

She  shall  be  lov'd  and  fear'd  ;  her  own  shall  bless  her ;      3-' 

Her  foes  shake  like  a  field  of  beaten  corn, 

And  hang  their  heads  with  sorrow ;  good  grows  with  her. 

In  her  days  every  man  shall  eat  in  safety 

Under  his  own  vine  what  he  plants,  and  sing 

The  merry  songs  of  peace  to  all  his  neighbours. 

God  shall  be  truly  known  ;  and  those  about  her 

From  her  shall  read  the  perfect  ways  of  honour, 

And  by  those  claim  their  greatness,  not  by  blood. 

Nor  shall  this  peace  sleep  with  her :  but  as  when 

The  bird  of  wonder  dies,  the  maiden  phcenix,  4° 

Her  ashes  new  create  another  heir, 

As  great  in  admiration  as  herself, 

So  shall  she  leave  her  blessedness  to  one — 

When  heaven  shall  call  her  from  this  cloud  of  darkness — 

Who  from  the  sacred  ashes  of  her  honour 

Shall  star-like  rise,  as  great  in  fame  as  she  was, 

And  so  stand  fix'd.     Peace,  plenty,  love,  truth,  terror, 

That  were  the  servants  to  this  chosen  infant, 

Shall  then  be  his,  and  like  a  vine  grow  to  him. 

Wherever  the  bright  sun  of  heaven  shall  shine,  so 

His  honour  and  the  greatness  of  his  name 

Shall  be,  and  make  new  nations ;  he  shall  flourish, 

And,  like  a  mountain  cedar,  reach  his  branches 

To  all  the  plains  about  him.     Our  children's  children 

Shall  see  this,  and  bless  heaven. 


ACT  V.    SCENE   V.  15, 

King  Henry.  Thou  speakest  wonders. 

Cranmer.  She  shall  be,  to  the  happiness  of  England, 
An  aged  princess  ;  many  days  shall  see  her, 
And  yet  no  day  without  a  deed  to  crown  .it. 
Would  I  had  known  no  more  !  but  she  must  die ; 
She  must,  the  saints  must  have  her:  yet  a  virgin,  60 

A  most  unspotted  lily  shall  she  pass 
To  the  ground,  and  all  the  world  shall  mourn  her. 

King  Henry.  O,  lord  archbishop  ! 
Thou  hast  made  me  now  a  man ;  never,  before 
This  happy  child,  did  I  get  any  thing. 
This  oracle  of  comfort  has  so  pleas'd  me, 
That  when  I  am  in  heaven  I  shall  desire 
To  see  what  this  child  does,  and  praise  my  Maker. — 
I  thank  ye  all. — To  you,  my  good  lord  mayor, 
And  your  good  brethren,  I  am  much  beholding;  70 

I  have  receiv'd  much  honour  by  your  presence, 
And  ye  shall  find  me  thankful. — Lead  the  way,  lords; 
Ye  must  all  see  the  queen,  and  she  must  thank  ye; 
She  will  be  sick  else.     This  day,  no  man  think 
Has  business  at  his  house,  for  all  shall  stay ; 
This  little  one  shall  make  it  holiday.  [Exeunt. 


MEDAL    OF   JAMES    I. 


KING  HENRY  VII L 


EPILOGUE. 

Tis  ten  to  one,  this  play  can  never  please 

All  that  are  here.     Some  come  to  take  their  ease, 

And  sleep  an  act  or  two ;  but  those,  we  fear, 

We  've  frighted  with  our  trumpets  ;  so,  't  is  clear, 

They  '11  say  't  is  naught :  others,  to  hear  the  city 

Abus'd  extremely,  and  to  cry, 'That's  witty,' 

Which  we  have  not  done  neither;  that,  I  fear, 

All  the  expected  good  we're  like  to  hear 

For  this  play,  at  this  time,  is  only  in 

The  merciful  construction  of  good  women, 

'For  such  a  one  we  show'd  'em.     If  they  smile 

And  say  't  will  do,  I  know  within  a  while 

All  the  best  men  are  ours  ;  for  't  is  ill  hap, 

If  they  hold  when  their  ladies  bid  'em  clap. 


i;oLL>    MEDAL   OF    HENRY    VIII. 


NOTES, 


ABBREVIATIONS  USED   IN  THE  NOTES. 

Abbott  (or  Gr.),  Abbott's  Shakespearian  Grammar  (third  edition1. 

Adee,  MS.  notes  sent  to  the  editor  by  Mr.  Alvey  A.  Adee,  Washington,  D.  C 

A.  S.,  Anglo-Saxon. 

A.  V.,  Authorized  Version  of  the  Bible  (1611). 

B.  and  F.,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 
B.  J.,  Ben  Jonson. 

Catnb.  ed.,  "  Cambridge  edition  "  of  Shakespeare,  edited  by  Clark  and  Wright. 

Cf.  (confer),  compare. 

Clarke,  "  Cassell's  Illustrated  Shakespeare,''  edited  by  Charles  and  Mary  Cowdeiv 
Clarke  (London,  n.  d.). 

Colt.,  Collier  (second  edition). 

Coll.  MS.,  Manuscript  Corrections  of  Second  Folio,  edited  by  Collier. 

D.,  Dyce  (second  edition). 

H.,  Hudson  ("  Harvard"  edition). 

Halliwell,  J.  O.  .Halliwell  (folio  ed.  of  Shakespeare). 

Id.  (idem},  the  same. 

J.  H.,  Rev.  John  Hunter's  edition  of  Henry  VII I.  (London,  1865). 

K.,  Knight  (second  edition). 

Nares,  Glossary,  edited  by  Hahiweil  and  W  right  ;London,  1859). ' 

Prol.,  Prologue. 

Rich-,  Richardson's  Dictionary  (London,  1838). 

S.,  Shakespeare. 

Schmidt,  A.  Schmidt's  Shakespeare- Lexicon  (Berlin,  1874). 

Sr.,  Singer. 

St.,  Staunton. 

Theo.,  Theobald. 

V.,  Verplanck. 

W.,  R.  Grant  White. 

Walker,  Wm.  Sidney  Walker's  Critical  Examination  of  the  Text  of  Skakespeart 
(London,  1860). 

Warb.,  Warburton. 

Wb.,  Webster's  Dictionary  (revised  quarto  edition  of  1879). 

Wore.,  Worcester's  Dictionary  (quarto  edition). 

The  abbreviations  of  the  names  of  Shakespeare's  Plays  will  be  readily  understood  ;  as 
T.  N.  for  Twelfth  Night,  Cor.  for  Coriolanus,  3  Hen.  VI.  for  The  Third  Part  of  King 
Henry  the  Sixth,  etc.  P.  P.  refers  to  The  Passionate  Pilgrim  ;  V.  and  A .  to 
and  Adonis;  L.  C.  to  Lover's  Complaint ;  and  Sonn.  to  the  Sonnets. 

When  the  abbreviation  of  the  name  of  a  play  is  followed  bv  a  reference 
Rolfe's  edition  of  the  play  is  meant. 
The  numbers  of  the  lines  (except  for  the  present  play)  are  those  of  the  "  Globe  "  cd 


NOTES. 


GREAT   SEAL,  CARDINAL'S    HAT,  ETC. 


THE  PROLOGUE. 

DR.  JOHNSON  expressed  the  opinion  that  the  Prologue  and  the  Epilogue 
«>f  this  play  were  not  Written  by  Shakespeare,  and  the  majority  of  the  re- 
cent editors  agree  with  him.  D.  says  that,  "  whoever  wrote  them,  they 
are  manifestly  not  by  Shakespeare."  W.  remarks  that  there  can  hardly 
be  a  doubt  on  this  point  "  in  the  mind  of  any  reader  who  has  truly  appre- 
ciated the  poet's  style  or  his  cast  of  thought."  K.,  on  the  other  hand, 
considers  that  "  the  prologue  is  a  complete  exposition  of  the  idea  of  the 
drama,"  and  that  it  is  unquestionably  Shakespeare's.  See  the  quotation 
from  K.,  p.  38  above.  See  also  Temp.  p.  145.  Some  of  the  critics  have 
suggested  that  the  Prologue  may  be  Ben  Jonson's. 

3.  Sad)  higJi,  and  working.  "  Of  a  lofty  character,  and  of  stirring  inter- 
est." St.  reads  "  Sad  and  high-working." 

9.  May  here  find  truth.  On  the  repetition  of  the  words  true  and  truth 
in  the  prologue,  and  their  possible  connection  with  the  original  title  of  the 
play,  see  p.  10  above. 


156  NOTES. 

16.  In  a  long  motley  coat.  Alluding  to  the  fools  of  the  old  plays  and 
their  professional  costume.  See  M.  of  V.  p.  142  (note  on  Patch},  and 
Temp.  p.  131  (note  on  Pied  ninny}. 

Guarded.     Trimmed.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  140. 

20.  Opinion.  Reputation.  Cf.  i  Hen.  IV.  v.  4.  48:  "Thou  hast  re- 
deem'd  thy  lost  opinion."  Or,  as  H.  suggests,  it  may  refer  to  the  title 
Alt  is  True,  "  which  would  naturally  beget  an  opinion  or  expectation  of 
truth  in  what  was  to  be  shown  ;  which  opinion  or  expectation  would  be 
forfeited  or  destroyed  by  the  course  in  question."  The  parenthetical 
addition,  "  We  now  intend  only  to  make  good  that  opinion  or  expecta- 
tion," would  then  follow  naturally  enough. 

24.  Happiest  hearers.  As  Steevens  remarks, "  happy  appears  to  be  used 
with  one  of  its  Roman  meanings  ;  that  is,  propitious  or  favourable''''  (cf. 
Virgil,  Eel.  v. :  "  Sis  bonus  o  felixque  tuis") ;  "a  sense  of  the  word,"  he 
adds,  "which  must  have  been  unknown  to  Shakespeare,  but  was  familiar 
to  Jonson."  .  The  poet's  "small  Latin,"  however,  might  easily  have  in- 
cluded this  common  meaning  of  a  very  common  word.  Cf.  v.  4.  65  below. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. — In  the  folio  the  play  is  divided  into  acts  and  scenes,  and  the 
stage-directions  are  remarkably  full,  but  there  is  no  list  of  dramatis  persona. 

Enter  the  Duke  of  A'orfolk,  etc.  This  Duke  of  Norfolk  is  Thomas  How- 
ard, son  of  the  "Jockey  of  Norfolk"  of  Richard  III.  (v.  3.  304),  who  was 
slain  at  Bosworth  Field,  and  whose  blood  was  attainted.  His  honours 
were,  however,  restored  in  his  son,  who  became  Lord  Treasurer,  Earl 
Marshal,  and  Knight  of  the  Garter.  This  Duke  of  Buckingham  is  also 
the  son  and  heir  of  the  Duke  in  RicJiard  III.,  whose  forfeited  honours 
(see  below,  ii.  i)  were  restored  in  his  son  by  Henry  VII.  He  was  Lord 
High  Constable  and  a  Knight  of  the  Garter.  Lord  Abergavenny  is 
George  Neville,  third  baron  of  that  name,  and  "one  of  the  very  few  no- 
blemen of  his  time  who  was  neither  beheaded  himself,  nor  the  son  of  a 
beheaded  father,  nor  the  father  of  a  beheaded  son.  His  brother,  Sir 
Thomas,  however,  was  compelled  to  follow  the  fashion"  (W.). 

2.  Since  last  we  saw.     That  is,  saw  each  other.     Cf.  "  When  shall  we 
see  again?"  in  T.  and  C.  iv.  4.  59  and  Cymb.  i.  2.  124.     The  3d  folio  has 
"  Since  last  we  saw  y'  in  France."     Gr.  382. 

3.  Fresh.     Cf.  iv.  i.  97  below. 

6.  Suns  of  glory.    Francis  I.  and  Henry  VIII.    The  3d  folio  has  "sons 
of  glory  ;"  but  the  latter  part  of  the  line,  and  these  suns  in  33  below,  are 
in  favour  of  the  original  reading. 

7.  The  -vale  of  Andren.     In  the  2d  folio  Andren  is  altered  to  "  Arde," 
but  S.  gave  the  word  as  he  found  it  in  Holinshed's  Chronicle:  "  The  daie 
of  the  meeting  was  appointed  to  be  on  the  thursdaie  the  seauenth  of 
lune,  vpon  which  daie  the  two  kings  met  in  the  vale  of  Andren." 

Guynes  and  Arde.  Two  towns  in  Picardy,  the  one  belonging  to  the 
English,  the  other  to  the  French.  The  famous  "  Field  of  the  Cloth  of 
Gold"  was  in  the  valley  between  the  two. 


AC 7'  I.     .sr/^A'A*    /.  157 

10.  As  they  grew  together.     As  if,  etc.     Gr.  103. 

12.  ^//  M<r  w>W<r  time.    Cf.  M.  />/  I '.  iii.  4.  81  :  "  all  my  whole  devu  c  ; 
I  hen.  17.  i.  I.  126:   "all  the  whole  army,"  etc. 

(6.  Each  folUnuing  day,  etc.  "  Dies  diem  docet.  Every  day  learned 
something  from  the' preceding,  till  the  concluding  day  collected  all  the 
splendour  of  the  former  shows"  (Johnson).  On  /'/'.»,  see  Temp.  p.  120. 

19.  Clinquant.  \Y.  says  this  is  "a  descriptive  word,  derived  from  the 
tinkle  or  gentle  clash  of  metal  ornaments,"  and  this  agrees  with  the  defi- 
nition in  Rich. ;  but  Wore,  and  Wb.  both  make  it  mean  "glittering,  shin- 
ing," as  do  Nares,  D.  (Glossary},  Schmidt,  and  the  commentators  gener- 
ally. The  word  is  evidently  from  the  French  clinquant,  tinsel,  glitter ;  but 
this,  according  to  Wb.  (see  also  Scheler,  Diet.  d'Etymol.  Franc.),  is  from 
the  Dutch  klinken,  to  clink.  The  tinsel,  named  first  from  \\sjingle,  naturally 
came  to  suggest  rather  its  glitter.  In  B.  and  F.'we  find  mention  of  "A 
clinquant  petticoat  of  some  rich  stuff."  S.  uses  the  word  only  here. 

23.  Chernbins.  On  this  form  of  the  word  (the  only  one  found  in  the 
folio),  see  Temp.  p.  115. 

25.  That  their  very  'labour.     So  that  ;  as  in  38  below.     Gr.  283. 

26.  As  a  painting.     That  is,  it  gave  them  rosy  cheeks. 

30.  Him  in  eye,  Still  him  in  praise.  See  Gr.  381.  Johnson  quotes  Dry- 
den's  "  Two  chiefs  So  match'd,  as  each  seem'd  worthiest  when  alone." 

32.  No  discerner,  etc.  "No  critical  observer  would  venture  to  pro- 
nounce his  judgment  in  favour  of  either  king"  (V.).  On  this  use  of  cen- 
sure, cf.  W.  T.  ii.  i.  37  :  "  In  my  just  censure,  in  my  true  opinion  ;"  Oth. 
ii.  3.  193  :  *'  mouths  of  wisest  censure,"  etc.  The  verb  also  means  to 
pass  judgment  upon,  to  estimate  ;  as  in  K.  John,  ii.  i.  328 :  "  whose  equal- 
ity By  our  best  eyes  cannot  be  censured,"  etc.  In  71  G.  of  V.  i.  2.  19,  we 
have  "  Should  censure  thus  on  lovely  gentlemen." 

38.  Beiris  mas  believed.     That  is,  the  old  romantic  legend  of  Bevis  of 
Southampton.     This  Bevis  was  a  Saxon  whom  William  the  Conqueror 
made  Earl  of  Southampton.     For  his  exploit  of  subduing  the  giant  Asca- 
pard,  see  our  ed.  of  2  Hen.  VI.  p.  160.     Camden,  in  his  Britannia,  says 
that  "  while  the  monks  endeavoured  to  extol  Bevis  by  legendary  tales, 
they  have  obscured  and  drowned  his  truly  noble  exploits." 

39.  As  I  belong  to  worship,  etc.     As  I  am  of  the  more  honoured  class, 
and  in  that  honour  love  and  seek  honesty,  the  course  of  these  triumphs 
and  pleasures,  however  well  related,  must  lose  in  the  description  part  of 
that  spirit  and  energy  which  were  expressed  in  the  real  action  (Johnson), 
Some  make  taste/ = narration,  treating  (Lat.  tractare). 

42.  All  was  royal,  etc.     In  the  folio  the  reading  is  as  follows  : 

"Sue.  All  was  Royall. 
To  the  disposing  of  it  nought  rebell'd. 
Order  gaue  each  thing  view.     The  Office  did 
Distinctly  his  full  Function :  who  did  guide, 
I  mean  who  set  the   l'«ody,  and  the  Limbes 
Of  this  great  Sport  together  ? 

Nor.  As  you  guesse : 
One  certes.  that  promises  no  Element 
In  such  a  businesse. 

Buc.  I  pray  you  who,  my  Lord  ?'' 


158  NOTES. 

Theo.  arranged  the  passage  as  in  the  text,  and  has  been  followed  by  the 
more  recent  editors,  with  the  exception  of  K.  and  V.,  who  defend  the  orig- 
inal reading.  K.  says:  "After  the  eloquent  description  by  Norfolk  of 
the  various  shows  of  the  pageant,  he  [Buckingham]  makes  a  general  obser- 
vation that  '  order '  must  have  presided  over  these  complicated  arrange- 
ments— 'gave  each  thing  view.'  He  then  asks,  '  Who  did  guide?' — who 
made  the  body  and  limbs  work  together  ?  Norfolk  then  answers,  'As  you 
guess' — according  to  your  guess, one  did  guide: — 'one  certes,'  etc." 

48.  That  promises  no  element,  etc.  "  Of  whom  it  would  not  be  expected 
that  he  would  find  his  proper  sphere  in  such  a  business"  (Schmidt).  For 
certes  (=certainly),  see  Temp.  p.  133. 

54.  Fierce  vanities.     Fierce  here  appears  to  mean  "  extreme,  excessive." 
Cf.  T.  of  A.  iv.  2.  30:  "O  the  fierce  wretchedness  that  glory  brings!'' 
Ben  Jonson  {Poetaster,  v.  3)  speaks  of  "fierce  credulity." 

55.  Keech.     A  lump  of  fat.     "  It  had  a  triple  application  to  Wolsey,  as 
a  corpulent  man,  a  reputed  butcher's  son,  and  a  bloated  favourite"  (W.). 
In  i  Hen.  IV.  ii.  4.  252,  Prince  Henry  calls  Falstaff  a  "greasy  tallow- 
keech'   ("  Tallow  Catch"  in  the  folio). 

56.  Beneficial  sun.     "  King  Henry.     Wolsey  stands  between  the  king 
and  his  subjects.     See  the  next  scene,  where  the  king  knows  nothing  of 
the  grievous  taxes  Wolsey  is  imposing"  (Adee).    Beneficial= beneficent ; 
as  in  C.  of  E.  i.  i.  152. 

60.  Chalks  successors  their  way.  Cf  Temp.  v.  i.  203 :  "  For  it  is  you 
that  have  chalk'd  forth  the  way." 

63.  Out  of  his  self -drawing  web,  he  gives  us  note.  The  folio  reads  :  "  Out 
of  his  Selfe-drawing  Web.  O  giues  vs  note,"  etc.  The  correction  is  by 
Capell  (who  suggests  that  the  O  is  a  misprint  for  A  or  '</,  which  is  often 
used  for  he)  and  is  adopted  by  D.  and  W.  K.  reads  "  — O  !  give  us  note ! — " 
(that  is,  Mark  what  I  say!),  and  is  followed  by  V.  On  note  (  =  notice, 
information),  cf.  i.  2.  48  below ;  and  see  Temp.  p.  126. 

65.  Heaven  gives  for  him.  That  is,  for  his  own  use.  Warb.  (followed 
by  D.)  reads,  "A  gift  that  heaven  gives;  which  brings  for  him,"  etc., 
and  Johnson  suggested  "  heaven  gives  to  him." 

75.  The  file  Of  all  the  gentry.  The  list  of  them.  Cf.  Macb.  v.  2.  8  :  "I 
have  a  file  Of  all  the  gentry." 

77.  To  whom  as  great  a  charge . . .  lay  upon.  Some  editors  read  "  Too, 
whom,"  etc.  But  double  prepositions  are  not  uncommon  in  S.  See 
Gr.  407.  H.  suggests  that  the  expression  may  be  elliptical  for  "  To 
whom  he  gave  as  great  a  charge,  as  he  meant  to  lay  upon  them  little  hon- 
our." 

7&  His  own  letter  .  .  .  he  papers.     The  folio  reads, 

"  his  owne  Letter 

The  Honourable  Boord  of  Councell,  out 
Must  fetch  him  in,  he  Papers." 

Pope  says  :  "  He  papers,  a  verb  :  his  own  letter,  by  his  own  single  author- 
ity, and  without  the  concurrence  of  the  council,  must  fetch  him  in  whom 
he  papers  down.  I  don't  understand  it,  unless  this  be  the  meaning." 
This  explanation  is  accepted  by  most  of  the  editors,  but  some  have  read 
"  the  papers"  (that  is,  "  all  communications  on  the  subject,"  which  he  re- 


ACT  L     SCKNE   I. 


'59 


quires  by  "  his  own  letter"  to  be  addressed  to  himself),  and  St.  conjectures 
"  he  paupers."  We  find  papers  as  a  verb  in  Albion's  England,  chap. 
80 :  "Set  is  the.soveraigne  Sunne  did  shine  when  paper'd  last  our 
penne." 

84.  Have  broke  their  backs  -with  laying  manors  on  them.     Cf.  K.  John, 
ii.  i.  70:  "  Bearing  their  birthrights  proudly  on  their  backs."     Burton,  in 
his  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  (ed.  1634),  says  :  "  'Tis  an  ordinary  thing  to 
put  a  thousand  oakes,  or  an  hundred  oxen,  into  a  sute  of  apparell,  to 
weare  a  whole  manor  on  his  backe." 

85.  What  did  this  vanity,  etc.     "  What  effect  had  this  pompous  show 
but  the  production'  of  a  wretched  conclusion  ?"  (Johnson.)     St.  says,  "  but 
furnish  discourse  on  the  poverty  of  its  result." 

88.  Not  values.     For  the  transposition,  see  Gr.  305. 

90.  l^he  hideoiis  storm  that  followed.     "  Monday  the  xviii.  of  June  was 
such  an  hideous  storme  of  wind  and  weather,  that  many  conjectured  it  did 
prognosticate  trouble  and  hatred  shortly  after  to  follow  between  princes" 
(Holinshed). 

91.  Not  consulting.     That  is,  independently  of  each  other. 

93.  Aboded.  Foreboded.  Cf.  3  Hen.  VI.  v.  6.  45  :  "  aboding  luckless 
time."  In  the  same  play  (iv.  7. 13)  we  have  the  noun  abodements.  Budded, 
in  Norfolk's  reply,  is  probably  a  play  upon  aboded. 

97.  The  ambassador  is  silenced.     "Refused  an  audience"  (Johnson). 
On  Marry,  is  V,  cf.  Ham.  i.  4.  13  ;  and  see  M.  of  V.  p.  138. 

98.  A  proper  title  of  a  peace.     A  fine  description  of  &  peace,  this  making 
an  ambassador  hold  his  peace  !     On  the  ironical  use  of  proper,  cf.  Macb. 
'"•4.60:  "O.  proper  stuff! 

This  is  the  very  painting  of  your  fear." 

100.  Carried.     Managed.     Cf.  i.  2.  134  below. 

Like  it  your  grace.  May  it  like,  or  please,  your  grace.  We  have  the 
full  expression  in  v.  3.  148  below  :  "  may  it  like  your  grace,"  etc.  Cf. 
Hen.  V.  iv.  I.  16  :  "this  lodging  likes  me  better  :"  Lear,  ii.  2.  96:  "his 
countenance  likes  me  not,"  etc. 

115.  Surveyor.     Charles  Knevet.     Cf.  Holinshed,  p.  164  below. 

1 1 6.  Where  's  his  examination  ?    That  is,  where  is  he  to  be  examined  ? 

117.  So  please  you.     If\\.  please  you.     Gr.  133. 

1 20.  This  butcher's  cur.  "  Wolsey  was  not  the  son  of  a  butcher,  but,  as 
we  know  by  his  father's  will,  of  a  substantial  and  even  wealthy  burgess 
of  Ipswich,  where,  and  in  Stoke,  he  was  a  considerable  landholder.  A 
butcher  might  be  all  this  now,  and  more,  but  not  then"  (W.). 

Venom-mouth? d.  The  folios  have  "  venom'd-mouth'd,"  which  may  be 
what  S.  wrote. 

122.  A  beggar's  book.  A  beggar's  learning.  "Although  the  duke  is 
afterwards  called  'a  learned  gentleman,'  and  is  known  from  contempo- 
rary authority  to  have  had  a  taste  for  letters,  yet  it  is  not  out  of  character 
that  he  should  here  use  the  insolent  and  narrow  tone  of  his  order  in  those 
times"  (V.).  The  Coll.  MS.  has  "a  beggar's  brood,"  and  Lettsom  sug- 
gests "beggar's  brat."  Cf.  2  Hen.  VI.  iv.  7.  77:  "Because  my  book 
(that  is,  learning)  preferr'd  me  to  the  king." 


160  NOTES. 

124.  Temperance.  Patience,  moderation.  Cf.  Cor  iii.  3.  28:  "Being 
Dnce  chaf'd,  he  cannot  Be  rein'd  again  to  temperance." 

128.  Bores  me,  etc.     "Undermines  me  with  some  device"  (St.). 
132.  Anger  is  like,  etc.     Cf.  Massinger,  The  Unnatural  Combat: 

"  Let  passion  work,  and,  like  a  hot-rein'd  horse, 
'T  will  quickly  tire  itself." 

137.  From  a  month  of  honour,  etc.  "I  will  crush  this  base-born  fel- 
low, by  the  due  influence  of  my  rank,  or  say  that  all  distinction  of  per- 
sons is  at  an  end  "  (Johnson). 

139.  Advis'd.     Considerate,  careful.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  130. 

140.  Heat  not  a  furnace,  etc.     Possibly,  as  Steevens  suggests,  an  allu- 
sion to  Han.  iii.  22. 

144.  Mounts  the  liqtwr.     Cf.  i.  2.  205  below  ;  and  see  Temp.  p.  128. 

147.  More  stronger.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  159  (on  More  elder},  or  Gr.  II. 

148.  If  "with  the  sap  of  reason,  etc.     Cf.  Ham.  iii.  4.  123  : 

•'  Upon  the  heat  and  flame  of  thy  distemper 
Sprinkle  cool  patience." 

151.  Top-proud.     "Topping  all  others"  (Cor.  ii.  i.  23)  in  pride. 

152.  Whom  from  the  flow  of  gall,  etc.     Whom  I  call  so,  not  from  mere 
bitterness  of  feeling,  but  from  honest  indignation. 

154.  Founts  in  July.     The  folio  has  "  Founts  in  Inly." 

159.  Equal.     For  the  adverbial  use,  see  Gr.  i. 

164.  Suggests.     Incites  or  tempts.     See  Temp.  p.  127,  on   Suggestion. 

167.  /'  the  rinsing.  The  folio  has  "  ith'  wrenching,"  which  is  proba- 
bly a  corruption  of  rinsing,  as  Pope  conjectured. 

172.  Count-cardinal.  Wolsey  is  called  "king-cardinal"  in  ii.  2.  20. 
Pope  reads  here  "  court-cardinal,"  and  has  been  followed  by  some  editors. 

176.  Charles  the  emperor.     Charles  V.,  emperor  of  Germany. 

178.  His  colour.     His  pretext.    Cf.  A.  and  C.  i.  3.  32  :  "  seek  no  colour 
for  your  going." 

179.  Visitation.     Visit.     See  Temp.  p.  130. 

183.  He  privily.     The  he  was  added  in  the  2d  folio. 

186.  Paid  ere  he  promised,  etc.  "  Gave  a  bribe  before  Wolsey  gave  a 
promise  ;  and  by  Wolsey's  acceptance  of  the  bribe  the  suit  was  virtually 
granted  before  it  was  presented"  (J.  H.). 

190.  Foresaid.     S.  uses  foresaid  six  times,  aforesaid  three  times. 

195.  Something  mistaken.  Somewhat  mistaken  or  misapprehended  by 
you.  On  something,  see  M.  of  V.  p.  130,  or  Gr.  68. 

197.  He  shall  appear  in  proof.  That  is,  /'//  which  he  shall  appear  in 
the  proving,  or  when  brought  to  the  test.  For  the  ellipsis,  see  Gr.  394. 
Cf.  v.  i.  84  below. 

204.  Device  and  practice.  Intrigue  and  artifice.  Cf.  Oth.  v.  2.  292: 
"  Fallen  in  the  practice  of  a  cursed  slave."  See  also  iii.  2.  29  and  v.  i. 
128  below.  Cf.  Ham.  p.  255. 

I  am  sorry  To  see  you  to1  en,  etc.  Johnson  explains  this,  "  I  am  sorry  to 
be  present  and  an  eye-witness  of  your  loss  of  liberty  ;"  St.  (perhaps  rightly), 
"  I  am  sorry,  since  it  is  to  see  you  deprived  of  liberty,  that  I  am  a  witness 
of  this  scene  ;"  J.  H.,  "  called  away  from  liberty  to  attend  to  such  a  busi- 


ACT  I.    SCENE  /.  161 

ness  as  this."     Coll.  puts  a  colon  after  liberty,  and  a  comma  after  pres- 
'nt. 

208.   That  dye.     The  literal  meaning  of  attainder  is  a  staining. 

211.  Aberga'ny.     The  usual  pronunciation  of  the  name. 

217.  Attach.     Arrest.     Cf.  Ol/t.  p.  161.     Lord  Montacnte  was   Henry 
Pole,  grandson  to  George,  Duke  of  Clarence,  and  eldest  brother  to  Car- 
dinal Pole.     He  was  restored  to  favour  at  this  time,  but  was  afterwards 
arrested  for  another  treason  and  executed. 

218.  Confessor.     Accented  by  S.  on  the  first  or  second  syllable,  as  suits 
the  measure.     Surveyor  he  accents  on  the  first  only  in  222. 

219.  His  chancellor.  The  folio  has  "  his  Councellour,"  but  in  ii.  1.20,  "Sir 
Gilbert  Pecke,  his  Chancellour,"  which  agrees  with  Hall  and  Holinshed. 

221.  Nicholas  Hopkins.  The  folio  has  "  Michael  I  Hopkins  ;"  probably, 
as  W.  suggests,  from  the  printer's  mistaking  the  abbreviation  'W/V//."  for 
"  Mich."  K.  retains  the  reading  of  the  folio,  thinking  that  "  the  poet  might 
intend  Buckingham  to  give  the  Nicholas  Hopkins  of  the  Chronicles  a 
wrong  Christian  name  in  his  precipitation."  The  Carthusians,  or  "  monks 
of  the  Chartreuse,"  appeared  in  England  about  1180,  and  in  1371  a  mon- 
astery of  the  order  was  founded  on  the  site  of  the  present  Charter-house 
(the  name  is  a  corruption  of  Chartreuse},  in  London. 

225.  Whose  figure  even  this  instant  cloud,  etc.  Whose  refers  to  Buck- 
ingham, not  to  shadow.  "The  speaker  says  that  his  life  is  cut  short 
already,  and  that  what  they  see  is  but  the  shadow  of  the  real  Buckingham 
whose  figure  is  assumed  by  the  instant  [the  present,  the  passing]  cloud 


DUKE   OF    BUCKINGHAM. 

L 


102 


NOTES, 


which  darkens  the  sun  of  his  prosperity.  Johnson  first  proposed  to  read, 
'  this  instant  cloud  puts  out?  and  in  so  doing  diverted  the  minds  of  many- 
readers  (including  editors  and  commentators)  from  the  real  meaning  of 
the  passage,  and  created  an  obscurity  for  them  which  otherwise  might 
not  have  existed"  (W.).  Sr.,  V.,  and  H.  adopt  Johnson's  emendation. 

SCENE  II. — 2.  /'  the  level.  In  the  direct  aim.  See  M.  of  V.  p.  131, 
note  on  Label  at ;  and  cf.  Sonn.  117.  u  :  "Bring  me  within  the  level  of 
your  frown,  But  shoot  not  at  me." 

3.  Confederacy.     Conspiracy. 

6.  Justify.     Verify,  prove.     See  Temp.  p.  141,  on  Justify  you  traitors. 

9.  The  king  risethfrom  his  state.  That  is,  from  his  throne.  Cf.  I  Hen. 
IV.  ii.  4. 416:  "  This  chair  shall  be  my  state,  this  dagger  my  sceptre,"  etc. 

19.  Of  true  condition.     Of  loyal  character. 

24.  Putter-on.  Instigator.  Cf.  W.  T.  ii.  i.  141  :  "  You  are  abus'd,  and 
by  some  putter-on."  Put  on  is  often  used  with  a  like  sense  ;  as  in  Ham. 
iv.  7.  132 :  "  We'll  put  on  those  shall  praise  your  excellence." 

27.  Such  which.     See  Gr.  278.     For  sides  the  Coll.  MS.  has  "ties." 

32.  Longing.    Belonging.    It  is  doubtful,  however,  whether  the  word  is 
•\  contraction  of  "belonging,"  though  Abbott  (Gr.  460),  W.,  and  others 
mint  it  "'longing."     See  Rich.,  under  /<?;/£•  and  belong;  and  cf.  M.  of  V. 
p.  153  (note  on  Bated),  and  Temp.  p.  118  (note  on  Hests\     Examples  of 
'ong  with  this  sense  are  common  in  Old  English  ;  as  in  Chaucer,  Kmghtes 
7't/e,  1420  :  "  That  to  the  sacrifice  longen  schal."     For  examples  in  S., 
see  T.  of  S.  iv.  2.  45,  iv.  4.  7,  A.  W.  iv.  2.  42,  Cor.  v.  3.  170,  Hen.  V.  ii.  4. 
80,  etc. 

33.  Spinsters.    Spinners.    See  on  this  word  Trench,  English,  Past  and 
Present,  Amer.  ed.  p.  121  ;  also  his  Select  Glossary,  s.v. 

37.  Danger  sewes  among  them.  Danger  is  often  personified  by  our  old 
poets  ;  as  by  Chaucer,  Gower,  Skelton,  and  Spenser  (Steevens). 

40.  Please  you.     If  it  please  you.     See  M.  of  V.  pp.  134,  136. 

42.  7 front  but  in  that  file,  etc.  Johnson  says,  "  I  am  but  first  in  the  row 
of  counsellors  ;"  but  Wolsey  disclaims  any  priority.  "  \fnce  in  that  file," 
he  says,  or  "  I  am  but  one  in  the  row."  On  tell  ( —  count)  see  Temp.  p.  123. 

44.  But  you  frame,  etc.  But  you  originate  these  measures  which  are 
adopted  by  the  council. 

52.  Too  hard  an  exclamation.  Too' harsh  an  outcry  against  you.  Cf. 
2  Hen.  IV.  ji.  i.  87  :  "this  tempest  of  exclamation." 

55.  Bolden'd.  Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  ii.  7.  91  :  "  Art  thou  thus  bolden'd,  man,  by 
thy  distress  ?"  S.  also  used  embolden  ;  as  in  M.  W.  ii'.  2.  173,  T.  of  A.  iii. 
5.  3,  etc.  Some  print  "  'bolden'd  ;"  but  see  on  32  above. 

64.  This  tractable  obedience,  etc.  Their  resentment  gets  the  better  of 
their  obedience.  This  is  the  folio  reading,  but  Rowe  (followed  by  D.) 
altered  it  to  "That,"  and  the  Coll.  MS.  to  "Their." 

67.  There  is  no  primer  business.  No  more  urgent  business.  The  folio 
has  "  no  primer  basenesse,"  which  K.  retains.  I),  calls  it  "  the  next  thing 
to  nonsense,"  and  W.  remarks  that,  though  it  has  a  meaning,  "it  is  a  mean- 
ing entirely  inappropriate  in  the  context."  \Varb.  suggested  business, 
and  the  Coll.  MS.  has  the  same  emendation. 


ACT  I.     SCENE  II.  i63 

78.   To  cope.     Of  encountering.     Cf.  A.  Y.  L.  ii.  i.  67  :  "I  love  to  cope 
him  in  these  sullen  fits  ;"   T.  ami  C.  ii.  3.  275  :  "Ajax  shall  cope  the  best." 
80.  /\>r<«  tritnm\L     Just  fitted  out. 

82.  Sick  interpreters.     [11 'disposed  critics. 

Oncewe,ik  ones.  Sometimes  (at  one  time  or  another)  weak  ones.  Cf. 
Jer.  xiii.  27. 

83.  AW  allow*  d.     Not  approved.     Cf.  2  flcn.  //'.  p.  185. 

84.  /fitting a  grosser  quality.     Suiting  or  gratifying  a  baser  nature. 
94.  Stick  them  in  cm  ivill.      I'.i  ing  them  under  arbitrary  rule  (after  tear- 
ing them  from  the  protection  of  the  laws). 

96.  A  trembling  contribution.     That  is,  that  may  well  make  us  tremble. 
The  Coll.  MS.  has  "  trebling."      Si-c  (Jr.  4  and  372. 

97.  Lop.     The  lop-wood,  or  smaller  branches. 
105.  Hardly  conceive.     Have  hard  thoughts. 

no.  Is  run  in  your  displeasure.  Has  incurred  (which  is,  literally,  run 
into]  your  displeasure.  See  Gr.  295. 

118.  Complete.  Accomplished.  The  accent  is  on  the  first  syllable. 
Cf.  L.  L.  L.  i.  I.  137:  "A  maid  of  grace  and  complete  majesty;"  Ham. 
{.4.  52  :  "That  thou,  dead  corse,  again  in  complete  steel,"  etc.  See  Gr. 
492.  Below  (iii.  2.  49)  we  have  the  word  with  the  ordinary  accent :  "  She 
is  a  gallant  creature  and  complete." 

128.  Feel  too  little.     Experience,  or  suffer  from  them,  too  little. 

132.  First,  it  wax  usual,  etc.  Holinshed  says:  "And  first  he  uttered 
that  the  duke  was  accustomed,  bv  way  of  talk,  to  say  how  he  meant  so  to 
use  the  matter  that  he  would  attain  to  the  crown  if  King  Henry  chanced 
to  die  without  issue  ;  and  that  he  had  talk  and  conference  of  that  matter 
on  a  time  with  George  Nevill,  Lord  of  Abergavenny,  unto  whom  he  had 
given  his  daughter  in  marriage  ;  and  also  that  he  threatened  to  punish 
the  cardinal  for  his  manifold  misdoings,  being  without  cause  his  mortal 
enemy." 

134.  He*  II. carry  it.  See  on  i.  i.  100  above.  The  folio  has  "hee'l" 
(not  "hell, "as  W.  says),  which  Pope  altered  to  "he'd."  But,  as  D.  re- 
marks, "in  such  sentences  we  frequently  find  our  early  writers  using  will 
where  we  should  use  would."  Cf.  C.  of  E.  i.  2.  85  : 

"  If  I  should  pay  your  worship  those  again, 
Perchance  you  -will  not  bear  them  patiently;" 

and  Cor.  i.  9.  I : 

"  If  I  should  tell  thee  o'er  this  thy  day's  work, 
Thau  'It  not  believe  thy  deeds." 

Cf.,  a  few  lines  above,  "  If  we  shall  stand  still,  .  .  .  We  should  take  root." 
See  also  John,  viii.  55  ;  and  cf.  Gr.  370,  371. 

139.  This  dangerous  conception,  etc.    "This  particular  part  of  this  dan- 
gerous design"  (Johnson).     D.  changes  This  to  "  His." 

140.  By  his  wish.     "  In  accordance  with  his  wish"  (Gr.  145). 
143.  Deliver  all.     Relate  all.  -  See  Temp.  p.  144. 

145.  Upon  our  fail.     In  case  of  our  failing  to  have  an  heir. 

147.  Nicholas  Henton.  The  folio  reading,  altered  bv  some  editors  to 
"Nicholas  Hopkins;"  but  the  man  was  often  called  Henton,  from  the 
monastery  to  which  he  belonged.  Holinshed  says  :  " — being  brought 


T  64  NOTES. 

into  a  full  hope  that  he  should  be  king,  by  a  vain  prophecy  which  one 
Nicholas  Hopkins,  a  monk  of  an  house  of  the  Chartreux  order  beside 
Bristow,  called  Henton,  sometime  his  confessor,  had  opened  to  him." 

148.  What.     Who.     Gr.  254.     On  cfafessor,  see  K.  and  J.  p.  179. 

162.  Car.  Changed  by  Warb.  to  "Court,"  as  in  Holinshed.  Choice  = 
chosen,  appointed  ;  the  only  instance  of  this  sense  in  S. 

164.  Under  the  confession"* s  seal.  The  folio  misprints  "  vnder  the 
Commissions  Scale  ;"  corrected  by  Theo.  Holinshed  says  :  "The  duke 
in  talk  told  the  monk,  that  he  had  done  very  well  to  bind  his  chaplain, 
John  de  la  Court,  under  the  seal  of  confession,  to  keep  secret  such  matter." 

This  whole  passage  is  a  close  paraphrase  of  Holinshed:  "The  same 
duke,  the  tenth  day  of  May,  in  the  twelfth  year  of  the  King's  reign,  at  Lon- 
don in  a  place  called  the  Rose,  within  the  parish  of  Saint  Laurence  Poult- 
ney,  in  Canwick  street  ward,  demanded  of  the  said  Charles  Knevet  esquire 
what  was  the  talk  amongst  the  Londoners  concerning  the  king's  journey 
beyond  the  seas.  And  the  said  Charles  told  him  that  many  stood  in  doubt 
of  that  journey,  lest  the  Frenchmen  meant  some  deceit  towards  the  king. 
Whereto  the  duke  answered,  that  it  was  to  be  feared,  lest  it  would  come 
to  pass  according  to  the  words  of  a  certain  holy  monk.  For  there  is, 
saith  he,  a  Chartreux  monk  that  divers  times  hath  sent  to  me,  willing  me 
to  send  unto  him  my  chancellor.  And  I  did  send  unto  him  John  de  la 
Court,  my  chaplain,  unto  whom  he  would  not  declare  anything  till  de  la 
Court  had  sworn  to  keep  all  things  secret,  and  to  tell  no  creature  living 
what  he  should  hear  of  him,  except  it  were  to  me.  And  then  the  said 
monk  told  de  la  Court  that  neither  the  king  nor  his  heirs  should  prosper, 
and  that  I  should  endeavour  to  purchase  the  good  wills  of  the  common- 
alty ;  for  I  the  same  duke  and  my  blood  should  prosper,  and  have  the 
rule  of  the  realm  of  England." 

167.  With  demure  confidence,  etc.  "  In  a  grave  confidential  manner 
this  was  then  uttered  with  pausing  intervals"  (J.  H.).  On  demure,  cf. 
A.  and  C.  iv.  9.  31  :  "  Hark  !  the  drums  Demurely  (solemnly)  wake  the 
sleepers." 

170.  To  gain  the  Jove.     The  first  three  folios  om\t  gain. 

179.  For  him.     The  folios  have  "  For  this  ;"  corrected  by  Rowe. 

181.  It  forged  him  some  design.  It  enabled  him  to  contrive  some  plan 
(for  obtaining  the  crown). 

184.  FaiPd.     "  Euphemistically  =  to  die"  (Schmidt). 

186.  What!  so  rank  ?  "  What,  was  he  advanced  to  this  pitch  ?"  (John- 
son). 

199.  Have  put  his  knife  into  him.  S.  follows  Hall  and  Holinshed 
closely  here  ;  and  Hall  followed  the  legal  records.  By  an  extract  made 
by  Valiant  from  the  Year  Book  13  Henry  VIII  ,  it  appears  that  this 
monk  said,  "  et  auxi  que  il  disoit  si  le  Roy  avoit  lui  commis  al"1  prison,  don- 
ques  il  vouf  lui  occire  ove  son  dagger.'1''  The  record  goes  on,  "  Mes  touts 
ceux  matters  il  denia  in  effect,  mes  flit  trove  coulp  :  Rt  pur  ceo  il  avoit  jttge- 
ment  comme  traitre,  et fuit  decollt  If  I'endredy  dez'tint  le  Feste  del  Pentecost 
qne  fuit  le  \\\]jour  de  May  avant  dit.  Dien  a  sa  ante  grant  mercy — car  il 
/ml  t>  fs  noble  prince  et  prudent,  ft  mirror  de  tout  courtesie"  ( W.). 

205.  Mounting  hi*  eyes.     See  on  i.  I.  144  above. 

209.  ///j period.     His  end,  the  intended  consummation  of  his  treason. 


ACT  I.    SCENE  III. 


165 


Cf.  .)/.  W.  iii.  3.  47  :  "the  period  of  my  ambition,"  etc.  We  find  period 
as  a  verb  in  T.  of  A.  i.  I.  99  :  "  Periods  his  comfort." 

213.  By  dav  aiui  ni^ht.  An  oath,  not  an  expression  of  time.  Cf.  Ham. 
i.  5.  164:  "O  day  and  night,  but  this  is  wondrous  strange."  On  Lear,  i. 
3.  4  ("  By  day  and  night  he  wrongs  me"),  see  our  ed.  p.  183. 

SCENE  III. — Enter  the  Lord  Charnherlain,  etc.  The  dramatist  has 
placed  this  scene  in  1521.  Charles  [Somerset],  Earl  of  Worcester,  was 
then  Lord  Chamberlain  ;  but  when  the  king  in  fact  went  in  masquerade 
to  Wolsey's  house  (1526),  Lord  Sands,  who  is  here  introduced  as  ac- 
companying the  chamberlain,  held  that  office.  This  Lord  Sands  was 
Sir  William  Sands,  created  a  peer  in  1524,  and  made  chamberlain  on 
the  death  of  the  Earl  of  Worcester  in  1526. 

2.  Mysteries.     "Artificial  fashions"  (K.). 

3.  Never  so  ridiculous.     Modern  usage  favours  "  ever  so"  rather  than 
"  never  so."     See  Gr.  52. 

7.  A  jit  or  two  o"  the  face.     A  few  grimaces. 

.  10.  Pepin  or  Clotharius.  Clothaire  and  Pepin  were  kings  of  France 
in  the  sixth  century.  We  find  allusions  to  Pepin  in  L.  L.  L.  iv.  i.  122, 
and  A.  W.  ii.  i.  79,  and  to  both  him  and  Clothaire  in  Hen.  V.  i.  2.  65,  67. 

13.  Or  springhalt.  The  folio  has  "A  Spring-halt;"  but,  as  V.  sug- 
gests, S.  was  too  well  skilled  in  horseflesh  to  confound  two  diseases  so 
different,  not  only  in  nature,  but  in  external  effect,  as  the  spavin  and  the 
springhalt. 

23.  And  never  see  the  Louvre.  That  is,  although  he  has  never  been  at 
the  French  court. 

25.  Fool  and  feather.  The  feathers  in  the  hats  of  the  French  gallants 
and  their  English  imitators  are  indirectly  compared  to  those  worn  by  the 
professional  jester — the  "feathers  wagging  in  a  fool's  cap,"  as  an  old 
ballad  has  it. 

27.  Fireworks.  There  were  displays  of  fireworks  on  the  last  evening 
of  the  interview  on  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold. 

30.  Tennis.     From  the  fifteenth  century  the  game  of  ball  known  as 
tennis  had  been  a  favourite  amusement  in  France  with  all  classes ;  from 
the  monarch  to  the  meanest  of  his  subjects  ;   and  at  this  time  it  was 
coming  to  be  no  less  popular  in  England. 

31.  Short  blistered  breeches.     "  This  word  '  blister'd'  describes  with  pict- 
uresque humour  the  appearance  of  the  slashed  breeches,  covered  as  they 
were  with  little  puffs  of  satin  lining  which  thrust  themselves  out  through 
the  slashes"  (W.). 

34.  Cum  privilegio.  With  privilege;  or  "with  exclusive  copyright" 
(Schmidt).  Cf.  T.  of  S.  p.  165. 

Wear.  The  ist  folio  has  "wee";  corrected  in  the  2d.  H.  retains 
"wee,"  which  he  takes  to  be=or/i  (an  anonymous  conjecture  in  the 
Camb.  ed.). 

42.  Plain-song.  In  music,  "the  simple  melody,  without  any  variations." 
Cf.  M.  N.  D.  iii.  i.  134  and  Hen.  V.  iii.  2.  6. 

44.  Held  current  music.  That  is,  find  it  held,  or  recognized,  as  good 
music.  Some  editors  change  held  to  "  hold." 

46.  Nor  shall  not.     See  Gr.  406. 


i66 


NOTES. 


55.  That  said  other.     Who  should  say  anything  to  the  contrary.     Cf. 
Oth.  iv.  2.  13  :   "  If  you  think  other  ;"  and  see  Gr.  12. 

56.  He  may.     That  is,  may  be  generous. 

Has  wherewithal.     He  has  the  means.     The  ellipsis  is  a  common  one. 
See  Gr.  400. 

57.  Sparing  would  show,  etc.     Parsimony  would  appear,  etc. 

60.  So  great  ones.     That  is,  so  great  examples. 

My  barge  stays.     That  is,  it  is  waiting  to  take  us  (from  the  palace  at 
Bridewell)  to  York-place. 

61.  Your  lordship  shall  along.     Cf.  Ham.  iii.  3.  4  :  "  And  he  to  England 

rith  you."     On  this 


shall  along  with  you. 


very  common  ellipsis,  see  Gr.  405. 


YOKK-PLACK. 


SCENK.  I V.—  The  /'> esetite-c/iamberiii  York-place.  "  Whitehall,  or  rath- 
sr  the  Palace,  for  that  name  was  unknown  until  after  Wolsey's  time,  was 
originally  built  by  Hubert  de  Burgh,  the  eminent  but  persecuted  Justiciary 


ACT  I.    SCENE  IV.  X67 

01  England  during  the  reign  of  Henry  III.  He  bequeathed  it  to  the  con- 
vent of  Blackfriars  in  Holborn,  and  they  sold  it  to  Walter  de  Grey,  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  in  1248.  From  that  time  it  was  called  York  House,  and 
remained  for  nearly  three  centuries  the  residence  of  the  prelates  of  that 
see.  The  last  archiepiscopal  owner  was  Wolsey, during  whose  residence 
it  was  characterized  by  a  sumptuous  magnificence  that  most  probably  h;u 
never  been  equalled  in  the  house  of  any  other  English  subject,  or  sui  | 
in  the  palaces  of  many  of  its  kings  "  (Knight's  London,  i.  334). 

The  details  of  this  scene  are  from  Cavendish,*  who  says  :  "And  when 
it  pleased  the  king's  majesty,  for  his  recreation,  to  repair  unto  the  cardi- 
nal's house,  as  he  did  clivers  times  in  the  year,  at  which  time  there  wanted 
no  preparation  or  goodly  furniture,  with  viands  of  the  finest  sort  that  mi;;hi 
be  provided  for  money  or  friendship;  such  pleasures  were  then  devised 
for  the  kii  g's  comfort  and  consolation  as  might  be  invented,  or  by  man's 
wit  imagined.  The  banquets  were  set  forth,  with  masks  and  mummeries, 
in  so  gorgeous  a  sort  and  costly  manner,  that  it  was  a  heaven  to  behold. 
There  wanted  no  dames  or  damsels  meet  or  apt  to  dance  with  the  mask- 
ers, or  to  garnish  the  place  for  the  time,  with  other  goodly  disports.  Then 
was  there  all  kind  of  music  and  harmony  set  forth,  with  excellent  voices 
both  of  men  and  children.  I  have  seen  the  king  suddenly  come  in  thither 
in  a  mask,  with  a  dozen  of  other  maskers,  all  in  garments  like  shepherds, 
made  of  fine  cloth  of  gold,  and  fine  crimson  satin  paned,t  and  caps  of  the 
same,  with  visors  of  good  proportion  of  visnomy,J  their  hairs  and  beards 
either  of  fine  gold  wire  or  else  of  silver,  and  some  being  of  black  silk  ; 
having  sixteen  torch-bearers,  besides  their  drums,  and  other  persons  at- 
tending upon  them,  with  visors,  and  clothed  all  in  satin  of  the  same  col- 
ours. And  at  his  coming,  and  before  he  came  into  the  hall,  ye  shall  un- 
derstand, that  he  came  by  water  to  the  water  gate,  without  any  noise  ; 
where  against  his  coming  were  laid  charged  many  chambers,  and  at  his 
landing  they  were  all  shot  off,  which  made  such  a  rumble  in  the  air,  that 
it  was  like  thunder.  It  made  all  the  noblemen,  ladies,  and  gentlemen,  to 
muse  what  it  should  mean  coming  so  suddenly,  they  sitting  quietly  at  a 
solemn  banquet ;  under  this  sort :  First,  ye  shall  perceive,  that  the  tables 
were  set  in  the  chamber  of  presence,  banquet-wise  covered,  my  lord  car- 
dinal sitting  under  the  cloth  of  estate,  and  there  having  his  service  all 
alone  ;  and  then  was  there  set  a  lady  and  a  nobleman,  or  a  gentleman  and 
gentlewoman,  throughout  all  the  tables  in  the  chamber  on  the  one  side, 
which  were  made  and  joined  as  it  were  but  one  table.  All  which  order 
and  device  was  done  and  devised  by  the  Lord  Sands,  lord  chamberlain  to 
the  king  ;  and  also  by  Sir  Henry  Guilford,  comptroller  to  the  king.  Then 
immediately  after  this  great  shot  of  guns  the  cardinal  desired  the  lord 
chamberlain  and  comptroller  to  look  what  this  sudden  shot  should  mean, 

*  We  give  the  passage  as  quoted  by  Knight,  in  his  Pictorial  Edition  of  Shakespeare 
The  MS.  copies  of  Cavendish  vary  a  good  deal  in  their  readings. 

t  Paned  means  "  ornamented  with  cuts  or  openings  in  the  cloth,  where  other  colours 
were  inserted  in  silk,  and  drawn  through"  (Nares).     Cf.  Thynne's Debate  (1580) : 
"This  breech  was  paned  in  the  fayrest  wyse, 
And  with  right  satten  very  costly  lyned." 

\  That  is,  physiognomy.     Cf.  A-  W.  iv.  5.  42  :   "  His  phisnomy  is  more  hotter,"  etc. 


1 68  NOTES. 

as  though  he  knew  nothing  of  the  matter.  They,  thereupon  looking  out 
of  the  windows  into  Thames,  returned  again,  and  showed  him  that  it 
seemed  to  them  there  should  be  some  noblemen  and  strangers  arrived  at 
his  bridge,  as  ambassadors  from  some  foreign  prince.  With  that  quoth 
the  cardinal, '  I  shall  desire  you,  because  ye  can  speak  French,  to  take  the 
pains  to  go  down  into  the  hall  to  encounter  and  to  receive  them  accord- 
ing to  their  estates,  and  to  conduct  them  into  this  chamber,  where  they 
shall  see  us,  and  all  these  noble  personages,  sitting  merrily  at  our  ban- 
quet, desiring  them  to  sit  down  with  us,  and  to  take  part  of  our  fare  and 
pastime.'  Then  they  went  incontinent  down  into  the  hall,  where  they  re- 
ceived them  with  twenty  new  torches,  and  conveyed  them  up  into  the 
chamber,  with  such  a  number  of  drums  and  fifes  as  I  have  seldom  seen 
together  at  one  time  at  any  masque.  At  their  arrival  into  the  chamber, 
two  and  two  together,  they  went  directly  before  the  cardinal  where  he  sat, 
saluting  him  very  reverently  ;  to  whom  the  lord  chamberlain  for  them 
said:  'Sir,  forasmuch  as  they  be  strangers,  and  can  speak  no  English, 
they  have  desired  me  to  declare  unto  your  grace  thus :  They,  having  un- 
derstanding of  this  your  triumphant  banquet,  where  was  assembled  such 
a  number  of  excellent  fair  dames,  could  do  no  less,  under  the  supportation 
of  your  good  grace,  but  to  repair  hither  to  view  as  well  their  incompara- 
ble beauty,  as  for  to  accompany  them  at  mumchance,*  and  then  after  to 
dance  with  them,  and  so  to  have  of  them  acquaintance.  And,  sir,  they 
furthermore  require  of  your  grace  licence  to  accomplish  the  cause  of  their 
repair.'  To  whom  the  cardinal  answered  that  he  was  very  well  contented 
they  should  do  so.  Then  the  maskers  went  first  and  saluted  all  the  dames 
as  they  sat,  and  then  returned  to  the  most  worthiest,  and  there  opened  a 
cup  full  of  gold,  with  crowns  and  other  pieces  of  coin,  to  whom  they  set 
divers  pieces  to  be  cast  at.  Thus  in  this  manner  perusing  all  the  ladies 
and  gentlewomen,  and  to  some  they  lost,  and  of  some  they  won.  And 
thus  done,  they  returned  unto  the  cardinal,  with  great  reverence,  pouring 
down  all  the  crowns  in  the  cup,  which  was  about  two  hundred  crowns. 
'At  all  !'f  quoth  the  cardinal,  and  so  cast  the  dice,  and  won  them  all  at  a 
cast,  whereat  was  great  joy  made.  Then  quoth  the  cardinal  to  my  lord 
chamberlain,  '  I  pray  you,'  quoth  he,  '  that  you  will  show  them,  that  it 
seemeth  me  that  there  should  be  among  them  some  noble  man  whom  I 
suppose  to  be  much  more  worthy  of  honour  to  sit  and  occupy  this  room 
and  place  than  I ;  to  whom  I  would  most  gladly,  if  I  knew  him,  surrender 
my  place  according  to  my  duty.'  Then  spake  my  lord  chamberlain  unto 
them  in  French,  declaring  my  lord  cardinal's  mind,  and  they  rounding} 
him  again  in  the  ear,  my  lord  chamberlain  said  to  my  lord  cardinal :  '  Sir, 
they  confess,'  quoth  he, '  that  among  them  there  is  such  a  noble  person- 
age, whom  if  your  grace  can  appoint  him  from  the  other,  he  is  contented 
to  disclose  himself,  and  to  accept  your  place  most  worthily.'  With  that 
the  cardinal,  taking  a  good  advisement  among  them,  at  the  last  quoth  he  : 

*  A  game    >.ayed  either  with  cards  or  with  dice;  here  the  latter,  as  appears   frorc 

ivhat  follows. 

t  That  is,  1  throw  for  all  the  money.     See  Nares  on  "  Have  at  all." 
\  To  round  in  tht  t,ir,  or  simply  to  round,  meant  to  whisper.     See  A'.  John,  ii.  i. 

566:  "rounded  in  the  ear  ;"    /<'.  /'.  i   2   217:  "  whispering,  rounding,"  etc- 


ACT  I.    SCENE  IV.  ifiQ 

•  Meseemeth  the  gentleman  with  the  black  beard  should  be  even  he.'  And 
with  that  he  arose  out  of  his  chair,  and  offered  the  same  to  the  gentleman 
in  the  black  beard,  with  his  cap  in  his  hand.  The  person  to  whom  he 
offered  then  his  chair  was  Sir  Edward  Neville,  a  comely  knight,  of  a  good- 
ly personage,  that  much  more  resembled  the  king's  person  in  that  mask 
than  any  other.  The  king,  hearing  and  perceiving  the  cardinal  so  de 
ceived  in  his  estimation  and  choice,  could  not  forbear  laughing  ;  but 
plucked  down  his  visor,  and  Master  Neville's  also,  and  dashed  out  with 
such  a  pleasant  countenance  and  cheer,  that  all  noble  estates  there  assem- 
bled, seeing  the  king  to  be  there  amongst  them,  rejoiced  very  much.  The 
cardinal  eftsoons  desired  his  highness  to  take  the  place  of  estate  ;  to  whom 
the  king  answered,  that  he  would  go  first  and  shift  his  apparel  ;  and  so 
departed,  and  went  straight  into  my  lord's  bedchamber,  where  was  a  great 
fire  made  and  prepared  for  him,  and  there  new-apparelled  him  with  rich 
and  princely  garments.  And,  in  the  time  of  the  king's  absence,  the  dishes 
of  the  banquet  were  clean  taken  up,  and  the  tables  spread  again  with  new 
and  sweet  perfumed  cloths  ;  every  man  sitting  still  until  the  king  and  his 
maskers  came  in  among  them  agairj,  every  man  being  newly  apparelled. 
Then  the  king  took  his  seat  under  the  cloth  of  estate,  commanding  no 
man  to  remove,  but  sit  still,  as  they  did  before.  Then  in  came  a  new  ban- 
quet before  the  king's  majesty,  and  to  all  the  rest  through  the  tables, 
wherein,  I  suppose,  were  served  two  hundred  dishes  or  above,  of  won- 
drous costly  meats  and  devices  subtilly  devised.  Thus  passed  they  forth 
the  whole  night  with  banqueting,  dancing,  and  other  triumphant  devices, 
to  the  great  comfort  of  the  king,  and  pleasant  regard  of  the  nobility  there 
assembled." 

Under  a  state.     Here  state— the  canopy  over  the  chair  of  state. 

4.  Bevy.  The  word  meant  at  first  a  flock  of  birds,  especially  quails  ; 
afterwards,  a  company  of  persons,  especially  ladies.  Cf.  Milton,  P.  L.  xi. 
582  :  "  A  bevy  of  fair  women  ;"  Spenser,  /'.  Q.  i.  9,  34  :  "A  lonely  bevy 
of  faire  Ladies  sate."  In  Ham.  v.  2.  197,  the  folio  has  "the  same  Beauy," 
the  quartos  "  the  same  breed."  The  word  occurs  nowhere  else  in  S. 

6.  As  first  good  company.     The  very  best  company.     The  folio  points 
thus:  "As  first,  good  Company."    Theo.  printed  "first-good,"  as  K.  does. 
Hanmer  gave  "  As,  first,  good  company,  then  good  wine,  good  women." 
D.  has  "  As  far  as  good  "  (Halliwell's  conjecture),  and  H.  "feast,  good  "> 
(a  conjecture  of  St.).     W.  reads  as  in  the  text. 

7.  You  're  tardy.    The  folio  has  here,  as  in  several  places  below,  "y'  are" 
(perhaps  =ye  are),  which  W.  retains.     See  Gr.  461. 

24.  For  my  little  cure.     As  regards  my  little  curacy.     Gr.  149. 

30.  Such  a  bowl  may  hold.  An  ellipsis  like  that  of  as  or  that  after  so  ; 
as  in  M.  of  V.  iii.  3.  o  :  "  so  fond  to  come  abroad."  See  Gr.  281,  282. 

32.  Beholding.  See  M.  of  V.  p.  135.  W.  gives  the  following  from 
Butler's  Grammar  (1633),  which  had  been  imperfectly  quoted  by  Boswell: 

"Beholding  to  one  : — of  to  behold  or  regard  :  which,  by  a  Synecdoche 
generis,  signifyeth  to  respect  and  behold,  or  look- upon  with  love  and 
thanks  for  a  benefit  received.  ...  So  that  this  English  phrase,  I  am  be- 
holding to  you,  is  as  much  as,  I  specially  respect  you  for  some  special 
kindness  :  yet  some,  now-a-days,  had  rather  write  it  Beholden,  \.  e.,  obliged, 


170  NOTES. 

answering  to  that  teneri  etfirmiter  obligari:  which  conceipt  would  seeme 
the  more  probable,  if  to  beholde  did  signifie  to  holde,  as  to  bedek  to  dek,  to 
besprinkle  to  sprinkle.  But  indeed,  neither  is  beholden  English,  neither  are 
behold  and  hold  any  more  all  one,  than  become  and  come,  or  beseem  and 
seem.''1 

37.  If  I  make  my  play.     "  If  I  may  choose  my  game"  (Ritson). 

40.  Chambers  discharged.     See  p.  9  above. 

80.  Unhappily.     "  Unluckily,  mischievously  "  (Johnson). 

83.  An  V.     For  </«  or  and—'\i,  see  Gr.  101. 

84.  The  Viscount  Rochford.     He  was  not  made  viscount  until  after  the 
king  had  fallen  in  love  with  Anne.    Cavendish  says  :  "  This  gentlewoman 
was  the  daughter  of  Sir  Thomas  Bullen,  Knight,  being  at  that  time  but 
only  a  bachelor  knight,  the  which  afterwards,  for  the  love  of  his  daughter, 
was  promoted  to  high  dignities.     He  bare  at  diverse  several  times,  for  the 
most  part,  all  the  great  rooms  of  the  king's  household,  as  comptroller, 
and  treasurer,  and  the  like.     Then  was  he  made  Viscount  Rochford  ;  and 
at  the  last  created  Earl  of  Wiltshire,  and  knight  of  the  noble  order  of  the 
Garter,  and,  for  his  more  increase  of  honour  and  gains,  was  made  lord 
keeper  of  the  privy  seal,  and  one  of  the  chiefest  of  the  king's  council." 

86.  I  were  unmannerly,  etc.  A  kiss  was  the  established  reward  of  the 
lady's  partner,  which  she  could  not  deny,  or  he,  without  an  open  slight, 
refuse  to  take  (W.). 

97.  Measure.  A  formal  dance,  "  full  of  state  and  ancientry"  ( Much 
Ado,  ii.  i.  80). 

99.  Knock  it.  A  phrase  "derived  from  beating  time,  or  perhaps  beat- 
ing the  drum"  (V.).  Cf.  Gr.  226  ;  and  see  Addenda  below. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I. — The  main  points  in  the  account  of  Buckingham's  trial  and 
his  subsequent  demeanour  are  taken  from  Hall.  The  duke  admitted 
that  he  had  listened  to  the  prophecies  of  the  Carthusian  monk,  but  he 
eloquently  and  with  "many  sharp  reasons"  defended  himself  against  the 
charge  of  treason.  He  was,  however,  convicted  in  the  court  of  the  lord 
high  steward,  by  a  jury  of  twenty-one  peers,  consisting  of  a  duke,  a  mar- 
quis, seven  earls,  and  twelve  barons.  The  Duke  of  Norfolk,  lord  high 
steward  on  the  occasion,  shed  tears  as  he  pronounced  the  sentence  ;  after 
which  Buckingham,  according  to  Hall,  addressed  the  court  as  follows  : 
"  My  lord  of  Norfolk,  you  have  said  as  a  traitor  should  be  said  unto,  but 
I  was  never  none.  But,  my  lords,  I  nothing  malign  for  that  you  have 
done  to  me  ;  but  the  eternal  God  forgive  you  my  death,  and  I  do.  I 
shall  never  sue  to  the  king  for  life,  howbeit  he  is  a  gracious  prince,  and 
more  grace  may  come  from  him  than  I  desire.  I  desire  you,  my  lords, 
and  all  my  fellows,  to  pray  for  me."  The  historian  continues  as  follows  : 

"Then  was  the  edge  of  the  axe  turned  towards  him,  and  so  led  into  a 
barge.  Sir  Thomas  Lovell  desired  him  to  sit  on  the  cushions  and  carpet 
ordained  for  him.  He  said,  '  Nay  ;  for  when  I  went  to  Westminster  I 
was  Duke  of  Buckingham  ;  now  I  am  but  Edward  Bohun,  the  most  caitiff 


ACT  IL    SCENE  I. 


171 


of  the  world.'  Thus  they  landed  at  the  Temple,  where  leceived  him  Sir 
Nicholas  Vawse  and  Sir  William  Sarnies,  Baronets,  and  led  him  through 
the  city,  who  desired  ever  the  people  to  pray  for  him  ;  of  whom  some  wept 
and  lamented,  and  said, '  This  is  the  end  of  evil  life  ;  God  forgive  him  ! 
he  was  a  proud  prince  !  it  is  pity  that  he  behaved  him  so  against  his  king 
and  liege  lord,  whom  God  preserve.'  Thus  about  iiii  of  the  clock  he  wa.« 
brought  as  a  cast  man  to  the  Towi  r." 

2.  Even  to  the  hall.     That  is,  to  Westminster  Hall. 


WESTMINSTER    HALL. 


172 


NOTES, 


ii.  In  a  little.     Briefly  ;  the  only  instance  of  the  phrase  in  S. 

29.  Was  either  pitied,  etc.  "  Either  produced  no  effect,  or  produced 
only  ineffectual  pity"  (Malone). 

33.  He  sweat  extremely.  Hall  says :  "  The  duke  was  brought  to  the 
bar  sore  charing,  and  sweat  marvellously." 

41.  Kildare's  attainder.  Hall  says  that  in  1520  "the  king,  being  in- 
formed that  his  realm  of  Ireland  was  out  of  order,  discharged  the  Earl 
of  Kildare  of  his  office  of  deputy,  and  thereunto  (by  the  means  of  the  car- 
dinal, as  men  thought)  was  appointed  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  to  whom  the 
cardinal  did  not  owe  the  best  favour."  Cf.  iii.  2.  260  foi.  below. 

47.  Whoever.     For  whomsoever.     Cf.  the  frequent  use  of  who  for  whom 
(see  M.  of  V.  pp.  131,  143,  and  Temp.  p.  113),  etc.     Gr.  274. 

48.  Find  employment.     That  is,  find  employment  for.     Cf.  M.  of  V. 
p.  130  (on  Would  grant  continuance]  and  p.  143  (on  Sits  down}.     Gr.  274. 

54.  Enter  .  .  .  Sir  William  Sands.  The  folio  has  "  Sir  Walter  Sands" 
which  is  either  a  misprint  or  a  slip  of  the  pen. 

57.  Go  home  and  lose  me.     That  is,  count  me  as  lost  to  you. 

67.  Nor  build  their  evil's,  etc.  Steevens  says:  "Evils,  in  this  place, 
aftforica  [privies].  So  in  M.for  M.  ii.  2.  172  : 

"  'having  waste  ground  enough, 
Shall  we  desire  to  raze  the  sanctuary, 
And  pitch  our  evils  there?'" 

Henley  (quoted  by  D.)  remarks  :  "  The  desecration  of  edifices  devoted  to 
religion,  by  converting  them  to  the  most  abject  purposes  of  nature,  was  an 
Eastern  method  of  expressing  contempt.  See  2  Kings,  x.  27." 

77.  Prayers.     Here  a  dissyllable.     See  Gr.  480. 

82.  Free.     For  the  adverbial  use,  see  Gr.  I. 

85.  No  black  envy,  etc.  The  folio  reads :  "  No  blacke  Enuy  shall 
make  my  Graue."  This  is  undoubtedly  corrupt,  for,  as  W.  remarks,  "al- 
though envy  may,  in  a  fine  sense,  be  said  to  make  a  grave,  it  clearly  can- 
not be  the  envy  or  the  malice  of  the  person  for  whom  the  grave  is  made." 
Envy  often  means  hatred,  or  malice.  See  M.  of  V.  p.  151.  "  Take  peace 
i&&i=make  peace  with,  forgive. 

89.  Till  my  soul  forsake.  The  folio  reading.  Rowe  added  "me," 
which  D.  and  Walker  approve.  K.  remarks  :  "  It  is  not  difficult  to  see 
that  S.  had  a  different  metaphysical  notion  from  that  of  his  editors :  the 
me  places  the  individuality  in  the  body  alone." 

96.  Sir  Nicholas  Vaux.     Nicholas  lord  Vaux  was  son  of  Sir- William 
Vaux,  who  fell  at  Tewkesbury,  fighting'  on  the  side  of  Henry  VI.     The 
ballad, "  The  Aged  Lover  Renounceth  Love,"  from  which  the  verses  sung 
by  the  grave-digger  in  Hamlet  (v.  i)  are  a  corrupt  quotation,  has  usually 
been  ascribed  to^Sir  Nicholas,  but  is  now  known  to  have  been  written  by 
his  son,  Thomas  Vaux  (J.  H.). 

97.  Undertakes  —  takes  charge  of. 

103.  Poor  Edward  Bohun.  Buckingham's  family  name  was  Bagot ; 
but  one  of  his  ancestors  had  married  the  heiress  of  the  barony  of  Staf- 
ford, and  their  son  assumed  the  name  of  Stafford,  which  was  retained  by 
his  posterity.  Buckingham,  however,  affected  the  surname  Bohun,  be- 
cause he  was  descended  from  the  Bohuns,  Earls  of  Hereford,  and  held 
the  office  of  lord  high  constable  by  inheritance  of  tenure  from  them. 


ACT  II.    SCENE  II.  173 

105.  /  now  se<tl  it.     That  is,  seal  my  truth,  or  loyalty,  with  blood. 
119.  And  must  needs  say.     On  needs,  see  Gr.  25. 

127.  Be  not  loose.  Be  not  incautious  of  speech,  or  "  unreticent."  Cf. 
Ot/i.  iii.  3.  416: 

"There  are  a  kind  of  men  so  loose  of  soul. 
That  in  their  sleeps  will  mutter  their  affairs." 

129.  Rub.   Obstacle ;  a  term  in  bowling.    Cf.  K.  John,  iii.  4.  128  :  "  each 
dust,  each  straw,  each  little  rub;''  Cor.\\\.  1.60:  "this  so  dishonoured 
rub  laid  falsely  I'  the  plain  way  of  his  merit."     See  also  Rick.  II.  p.  197. 

130.  From  ye.     On  the  use  of  ye  ^\\(\  you  in  S.,  see  Gr.  236. 

144.  Strong  faith.     "Great  fidelity"  (Johnson). 

145.  /  am  confident;   You  shall,  sir.     I  have  confidence  in  you  ;  you 
shall  have  the  secret. 

146.  Did  you  not  of  late  days  hear.     We  should  say,  Have  you  not 
lately  heard,  etc.     See  6^347. 

148.  It  held  not.     It  did  not  hold  good,  did  not  prove  true. 

151.  Allay  those  tongues.  We  should  not  now  use  allay  in  this  connec- 
tion ;  nor  intransitively  (—subside),  as  in  Lear,  i.  2.  179  :  "  with  the  mis- 
chief ot"  your  person  it  would  scarcely  allay." 

154.  And  held  for  certain.  And  //  is  held,  etc.  See  Gr.  382.  Cf.  i.  3. 
44  above. 

156.  About  him  near.     On  the  transposition,  see  Gr.  4:90. 

163.  The  archbishopric  of  Toledo.  The  richest  see  in  Europe,  regarded 
as  a  stepping-stone  to  the  papacy. 

167.  Too  open  here.  Too  much  exposed,  in  too  public  a  place.  Cf. 
iii.  3.403  below. 

SCENE  II. — Enter  Suffolk.  This  Duke  of  Suffolk  was  Charles  Brandon, 
son  of  Sir  William  Brandon,  who  was  Henry  VII. 's  standard-bearer. at 
Bosworth  Field,  where  he  fell.  The  duke  married  Henry  VIII. 's  younger 
sister,  the  Queen  Dowager  of  France,  whose  favoured  lover  he  had  been 
before  her  marriage  to  Louis  XII.  of  France. 

20.   Turns  what  he  list.     Turns  the  wheel  of  fortune  as  he  pleases. 

37.  These  news  are.  S.  uses  news  both  as  singular  and  plural.  We 
find  "  these  good  news"  and  "  this  happy  news"  in  two  successive  speeches 
of  2  Hen.  IV.  (iv.  4.  102,  109). 

41.  Have  slept  upon,  etc.     That  is,  have  been  blind  to  his  faults. 

43.   We  had  need  pray.     See  Gr.  349. 

48.  Into  what  pitch  he  please.  Of  what  stature,  or  height,  he  please. 
Hanmer  reads  "pinch,"  and  Theo.  conjectures  "batch."  Cf.  I  Hen.  VI. 

n>  3*  55  •  "i  tell  you,  madam,  were  the  whole  frame  here, 

It  is  of  such  a  spacious  lofty  pitch, 
Your  root  were  not  sufficient  to  contain  "t." 

For  me,  my  lords.     On  for,  see  Gr.  149. 

52.  /  not  believe  in.     See  on  i.  I.  88  above. 

60.  Norfolk  draws  a  curtain.  The  stage-direction  in  the  folio  is,  "the 
A'ing  drnwes  iht  Curtains  and  sit*  reading  pensively  "  Malone  (followed 
in  most  eds.)  has  "Norfolk  opens  a  folding- door  ;"  but,  as  Mr.  Adee  sug- 


174 


NOTES. 


gests,  tapestry  hangings,  like  our  modern  portierts,  were  often  used  in- 
stead of  doors  in  those  days. 

68.  Business  of  estate.  S.  uses  state  and  estate  interchangeably  in  their 
various  senses.  See  M.  of  V.  p.  151,  and  cf.  v.  I.  74  below. 

70.  Go  to.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  136,  and  Gr.  185. 

71.  Enter  Wolsey  and  Campe'tus.      Lorenzo  Campeggio  (in  its  Latin 
form,  Campeius]  was  a  native  of  Bologna,  and  a  man  of  great  learning, 
He  had  been  sent  to  England  once  before  as  legate,  and  was  at  that  time 
made  Bishop  of  Salisbury. 

76.  Have  great  care  I  be  not  found  a  talker.  "I  take  the  meaning  to 
be,  Let  care  be  taken  that  my  promise  be  performed,  that  my  professions 
of  welcome  be  not  found  empty  talk"  (Johnson).  Steevens  compares 
Rich.  III.  i.  3.  351  :  "we  win  not  stand  to  prate; 

Talkers  are  no  good  doers." 

81.  So  sick  though.     "  That  is,  so  sick  as  he  is  proud''  (Johnson). 

83.  / '//  venture  one  have-at-him.  I  '11  venture  one  thrust  at  him.  The 
folio  reads :  u  He  venture  one  ;  haue  at  him."  K.  retains  this,  and  says  : 
"  It  appears  to  us  that  Norfolk  means  by  '  I  '11  venture  one' — I  '11  risk 
myself;  and  that  Suffolk  is  ready  to  encounter  the  same  danger — '  1  an- 
other.'111  The  second  folio  has  "one  heave  at  him."  D.,  W.,  and  H. 
read  "one  have-at-him"  (or  "one  have  at  him").  Below  (iii.  2)  Surrey 
says  to  Wolsey,  "  Have  at  you ;"  and  (v.  2)  Cromwell  to  the  council, 
"  Now  have  at  ye." 

87.  Envy.     Malice.     See  on  ii.  1.85  above. 

88.  The  Spaniard.  That  is,  the  Spanish  court;  hence  the  subsequent  they. 
90.   7^he  clsrks.     The  clergy. 

92.  Gave  their  free  voices.  The  folio  has  "  Haue  their  free  voyces" 
(with  a  period  after  it),  and  this  is  retained  by  the  editors  generally.  It 
can  be  explained  only  by  assuming  that  "  by  a  great  freedom  of  construc- 
tion the  verb  sent  applies  to  this  first  member  of  the  sentence,  as  well  as 
to  the  second"  (K.).  "  Proleptic  omissions"  do  occur  in  S.  (see  Gr.  383, 
394),  but  in  this  case  I  prefer  to  adopt  W.'s  emendation  of  Gave.  As  he 
remarks,  "  that  only  the  learned  clerks  should  have  their  free  voices  is 
plainly  absurd  ;  although  those  who  have  not  adopted  Malone's  violent 
misconstruction  have  been  obliged  to  accept  the  absurdity.  But  we  know 
that  nearly  all  the  learned  clerks  in  Christian  kingdoms  gave  'their  free 
voices'  for  Henry'^s  divorce  (the  decisions  of  eight  continental  faculties  of 
law  and  divinity  to  that  effect  are  given  in  Hall's  Chronicle) ;  and  there- 
fore Wolsey  may  well  say,  '  Who  can  be  angry  now  ?'  " 

94.  One  general  tongue.  "Campeius  is  sent  to  speak  in  the  name  of 
the  whole  conclave  of  cardinals"  (Adee). 

99.  Such  a  man,  etc.     See  on  i.  4.  30  above. 

105.  Unpnrtial.     Elsewhere  (in  five  instances)  S.  has  impartial.     See 
M.  of  V.  p.  155,  note  on  Uncapable.     Cf.  Gr.  442. 

106.  Two  equal  men.     Two  impartial  men  ;  referring  to  what  has  just 
been  said. 

1 10.  A  woman  of  less  place.  That  is,  of  lower  rafik.  On  the  omission 
of  which,  see  Gr.  244. 

114.  Gardiner.     Holinshed  says:  "The  king  received  into  favour  Dr. 


ACT  II.     SCENE  III. 


175 


Stephen  Gardiner,  whom  he  employed  in  services  Of  great  secrecy  and 
weight,  admitting  him  in  the  room  of  Doctor  Pace,  the  which  being  con- 
tinually abroad  in  ambassages  (and  the  same  oftentimes  not  much  nec- 
(>-.u  v)  of  the  cardinal's  appointment,  at  length  took  siu  h  grief  there- 
with, that  he  fell  out  of  his  right  wits."  <  )n  his  return,  in  1527,  from  a 
mission  to  Rome  respecting  the  divorce,  Gardiner  became  secretary  to 
the  king,  and  in  1531  he  was  made  Bishop  of  Winchester. 

127.  Kept  him  a  foreign  man  still.  Kept  him  constantly  employed  in 
foreign  embassies.  On  still,  see  M.  of  V.  p.  128. 

130.  There  ^s  places.    See  Temp.  p.  122,  on  There  is  no  more  such  sJiapes, 

131.  That  good  fellow.     That  is,  Gardiner. 

137.  For  such  receipt  of  learning.  For  receipt  of  such  learning ;  for 
the  reception  of  such  learned  men.  See  Gr.  423. 

140.  Able.  Perhaps,  as  Mr.  Adee  suggests,  "not  under  a  disability," 
or  "free."  Cf.  Lear,  iv.  6.  172,  where  the  verb  able  means  "to  remove 
legal  disability." 

SCENE  III. — 8.  The  which  To  leave  a  thousand-fold,  etc.  Theo.  read 
"to  leave  is,"  and  D.  has  "leave  's  ;"  but  the  ellipsis  is  a  common  one. 
See  Gr.  403.  On  the  which,  see  J/.  of  / ".  p.  133,  and  Gr.  270. 

10.  Give  her  the  avannt.     Bid  her  begone — a  contemptuous  dismissal. 

//  is  a  pity,  etc.     A  hardship  that  would  move  even  a  monster  to  pity. 

14.  That  quarrel,  Fortune.     According  to  Warb.,  quarrel  here  means 
arrow  ;  but,  if  it  be  what  S.  wrote,  it  is  probably=:^fftim/ir,  as  Johnson 
explained  it.     Hanmer  printed  "quarr'ler."     The  Coll.  MS.  substitutes 
"  cruel  ;"  St.  suggests  "  squirrel  ;"  and  Lettsom  "  that  fortune's  quarrel," 
which  H.  adopts.     D.  favors  Warburton's  view.     Quarrel  (  =  arrow)  is 
used  by  Spenser,  A  Q.  ii.  n.  24:  -"But  to  the  ground  the  idle  quarrel 
fell."     For  other  examples,  see  Nares. 

15.  Sufferance.     Suffering,  pain  ;  as  in  v.  I.  68  below.     Cf.  A.  andC.  iv. 

*3'  5  •  "The  soul  and  body  rive  not  more  at  parting, 

Than  greatness  going  off." 

On  panging,  see  Gr.  290. 

17.  A  stranger  now  again.  "  Again  an  alien"  (Johnson) ;  reduced  to 
the  condition  of  a  friendless  stranger.  Cf.  Lear,  \.  i.  207:  "  Dower'd 
with  our  curse,  and  stranger'd  with  our  oath." 

20.  Range  with  humble  livers.     Rank  with  those  in  lowly  life. 

21.  Perxdnp.     Used  by  S.  only  here.     We  have  heard  the  phrase  in 
New  England  in  just  this  sense  of  "  pranked  out."     For  glistering,  see 
M.ofV.  p.  145. 

23.  Having.      Possession.     Cf.   T.  N.  iii.  4.  379 :    "  my  having  is  not 
much."     See  also  iii.  2.  159  below. 

Maidenhead.  Maidenhood.  Cf.  Godhead,  etc.  The  suffixes  -hood  and 
-head  are  etymologically  the  same.  See  Wb.  under  Hood. 

24.  Beshrew  me.     Curse  me.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  143. 

30.  To  say  sooth.     To  tell  the  truth.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  127. 

31.  Mincing.     Affectation.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  154. 

32.  Cheveril.     Kid-skin.     Cf.  R.  and  J.  iii.  4.  87  :  "  O,  here  's  a  wit  of 
cheveril,  that  stretches  from  an  inch  narrow  to  an  ell  broad."     In  T.  N. 
iii.  i.  13  we  find  mention  of  "a  cheveril  glove." 


176  NOTES. 

36.  A  three-pent f  bow1  d.     An  allusion  to  the  old  custom  of  ratifying  an 
agreement  by  a  bent  coin  ;  but  there  were  no  threepences  so  early  as  the 
reign  of  Henry  VIII.  (Fairholt).     Hire  is  here  a  dissyllable.     Gr.  480. 

37.  To  queen  it.     See  Gr.  226  and  290.     Cf.  i.  4.  99  above. 

40.  Pluck  off  a  little.  Take  off  a  little  from  the  rank  ;  that  is,  come 
down  from  a  duke  to  a  count. 

45.  An  emballing.     A  coronation  ;  referring  to  the  ball  placed  in  the 
left  hand  of  the  queen  as  one  of  the  insignia  of  royalty. 

46.  For  Carnarvonshire.     That  is,  for  a  single   Welsh  county.      For 
long'd,  see  on  i.  2.  32  above. 

48.   What  were  't  worth,  etc.     "  A  penny  for  your  thoughts  !" 

57.  High  note  V  Ta'en.     High  note  (or  notice)  is  taken. 

59.  His  good  opinion,  etc.     The  folio  has  "  opinion  of  you,  to  you  ;"  etc. 

65.  More  than  my  all  is  nothing.  "  Not  only  my  all  is  nothing,  but  if 
my  all  were  more  than  it  is,  it  were  still  nothing"  (Johnson). 

68.  Beseech  your  lordship.     See  Gr.  401. 

72.  Fair  conceit.     Good  opinion.     Cf.  Much  Ado,  p.  133. 

76.  A  gem,  etc.  "  Perhaps  alluding  to  the  carbuncle,  a  gem  supposed 
to  have  intrinsic  light,  and  to  shine  in  the  dark"  (Johnson). 

82.  Come  pal  betwixt,  etc.     Hit  the  right  moment  between  too  early,  etc. 

84.  Fte,fie  upon,  etc.     The  folio  has  "fye,  fye^fye  vpon,"  etc. 

85.  This  compelled  fortune.     This  fortune  thrust  upon  one.     On  the  ac- 
cent of  compelled,  see  M.  of,V.  p.  144,  on  Obscure. 

87.  Forty  pence.  This  sum,  being  half  a  noble  (or  one  sixth  of  a 
pound),  was  a  common  one  for  a  wager. 

90.   The  mud  in  Egypt.    The  land  fertilized  by  the  overflow  of  the  Nile. 
95.  Moe.     More.     See  A.  Y.  L.  p.  I76%;  and  cf.  iii.  2.  5  below. 

100.  On  V.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  143  (note  on  Glad  on  V),  or  Gr.  182. 

101.  If  this  salute  my  blood  a  jot.     "  Salute  here  means  move,  or  exhila- 
raie^  (St.).     Cf.  Sonn.  121.6:   "Give  salutation  to  my  sportive  blood." 
W.  quotes  Daniel's  Civil  Wars,  bk.  ii. : 

"  He  that  in  glorie  of  his  Fortune  sate, 
Admiring  what  he  thought  could  never  be, 
Did  teele  his  bloud  within  salute  his  state,"  etc 

The  Coll.  MS.  alters  salute  to  "elate." 

It  faints  me.     It  makes  my  heart  faint.     See  Gr.  297. 
104.  Do  not  deliver.     See  on  i.  2.  143  above. 

SCENE  IV. — This  long  stage-direction  is  from  the  folio,  and  conforms 
to  the  description  of  the  trial  in  Holinshed  and  Cavendish. 

Sennet.  This  word  (also  written  sennit,  senet,  synnet,  cynet,  signet,  and 
signate]  occurs  often  in  the  stage-directions  of  old  plays,  and,  as  Nares  re- 
marks, "seems  to  indicate  a  particular  set  of  notes  on  the  trumpet,  or 
cornet,  different  from  a  flourish."  In  Dekker's  Satiromastix  (1602)  we 
find,  "Trumpets  sound  a  flourish,  and  then  a  sennet."  The  etymology 
of  the  word  is  doubtful. 

Pillars  belonged  to  the  insignia  of  cardinals.  In  the  Life  of  Sir  Thomas 
More  we  find  mention  of  "  his  maces  and  pillars"  in  connection  with  Wol- 
sey.  The  silver  crosses,  according  to  Holinshed,  were  emblems,  "the  one 


ACT  If.     SCENE   IV. 


177 


of  his  archbishopric  and  the  other  of  his  legacy,  borne  before  him  whith- 
ersoever he  went  or  rode,  by  two  of  the  tallest  priests  that  he  could  get 
within  the  realm."  Steevens  quotes  a  satire  on  Wolsey,  by  William  Roy, 
published  at  some  time  between  the  execution  of  Buckingham  and  the  re- 
pudiation of  Katherine  : 

"  With  worldly  pompe  incredible, 
Before  him  rydeth  t\v<>  pn-su-s  st rouge; 
And  they  bear  two  crosses  right  longe, 

Gapynge  in  eveiy  man's  lace: 
After  them  folowe  two  laye  men  secular, 
And  each  of  theym  holdyn  a  pillar, 
In  their  hondes  steade  of  a  mace." 

I.  Commission.     A  quadrisyllable.     See  M.for  Af.  p.  135. 

The  queen  .  .  .  gees  about  the  court.  Cavendish  says  :  "  Then  he  called 
also  the  queen,  by  the  name  of  '  Katherine  queen  of  England,  come  into 
the  court ;'  who  made  no  answer  to  the  same,  but  rose  up  incontinent  out 
of  her  chair,  where  as  she  sat ;  and  because  she  could  not  come  directly 
to  the  king  for  the  distance  which  severed  them,  she  took  pain  to  go  about 
unto  the  king,  kneeling  down  at  his  feet,"  etc. 

13.  And  to  bestow.     See  Temp.  p.  131  (on  Than  to  suffer),  or  Gr.  350. 

This  speech  of  the  queen  follows  Cavendish  closely,  as  a  brief  extract 
from  his  account  of  the  trial  will  show  :  "  Sir,"  quoth  she,  "  1  beseech  you 
for  all  the  loves  that  hath  been  between  us,  and  for  the  love  of  God,  let 
me  have  justice  and  right ;  take  of  me  some  pity  and  compassion,  for  I 
am  a  poor  woman  and  a  stranger  born  out  of  your  dominion  ;  I  have  here 
no  assured  friend,  and  much  less  indifferent  counsel ;  I  flee  to  you  as  to 
the  head  of  justice  within  this  realm.  Alas  !  sir,  wherein  have  I  offended 
you,  or  what  occasion  of  displeasure  have  I  designed  against  your  will  and 
pleasure  ;  intending,  as  I  perceive,  to  put  me  from  you  ?  I  take  God  and 
all  the  world  to  witness  that  I  have  been  to  you  a  true,  humble,  and  obe- 
dient wife,  ever  conformable  to  your  will  and  pleasure,  that  never  said  or 
did  anything  to  the  contrary  thereof,  being  always  well  pleased  and  con- 
tented with  all  things  wherein  you  had  any  delight  or  dalliance,  whether 
it  were  in  little  or  much ;  I  never  grudged  in  word  or  countenance,  or 
showed  a  visage  or  spark  of  discontentation.  I  loved  all  those  whom  ye 
loved  only  for  your  sake,  whether  I  had  cause  or  no,  and  whether  they 
were  my  friends  or  my  enemies." 

16.  Indifferent.  Impartial.  Cf.  Rich.  II.  ii.  3.  116:  "Look  at  my 
wrongs  with  an  indifferent  eye."  See  also  the  quotation  from  Caven- 
dish in  the  preceding  note. 

29.  Have  I  not  strove.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  141  (on  Not  undertook),  or  Gr. 

30.  He  were  mine  enemy.     See  Gr.  301  and  237. 

31.  Had  to  him  derived  your  anger.      \  lad  brought  upon  himself  your 
anger.    Cf.  A.  W.  v.  3.  265  :  "  Things  which  would  derive  me  ill  will,"  etc. 

32.  Nay \  gave  notice.     Nay,  /  gave  notice.     Gr.  401.     Hanmer,  John- 
son, and  H.  read  "gave  not  notice."      The  folio  has  an  interrogation- 
mark  after  discharged. 

40.  Against  your  sacred  person.     That  is,  auglit  against  it. 
44.  Reputed  for.     Reputed  as  being.      See  Gr.  148. 

M 


[78  NOTES. 

47.  One  The  wisest.     Cf.  152  below  ;  and  see  Gr.  18. 

57.  And  of  your  choice.  Holinshed  says  that  Katharine  "elected  to  be 
of  her  counsel"  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the  bishops  of  Ely,  Roch- 
ester, and  St.  Asaph,  and  others. 

61.  l^hat  longer  yon  ,/esire  the  court.  That  you  desire  the  court  to  de- 
lay proceedings.  The  4th  folio  has  "defer  the  court,"  which  D.  adopts. 

70.  We  are  a  queen.  "  The  change  from  the  singular  to  the  -royal 
plural  in  this  assertion  of  Katherine's  queenship  seems  to  me  one  of  the 
happiest  touches  in  the  play"  (Adee). 

76.  Make  my  challenge.     A  law  term  ;  as  now  in  challenging  a  juryman. 

8c.  I  utterly  abhor,  etc.  Blackstone  remarks  that  abhor  2i(\&  refuse  are 
technical  terms  of  the  canon  law,  corresponding  to  the  Latin  delestor  and 
recuso ;  but,  as  W.  suggests,  it  is  doubtful  whether  S.  meant  to  use  them 
technically.  Holinshed  says  that  the  queen  "  openly  protested  that  she 
did  utterly  abhor,  refuse,  and  forsake  such  a  judge." 

85.  Have  stood  to  charity.    Cf.  Ham.  iv.  5.  133  :  "  To  this  point  I  stand." 

91.  The  consistory.     The  college  of  cardinals. 

97.  If  he  know.    Hanmer  (followed  byD.and  H.)reads"  But  if  he  know." 

IOI.  The  whicfy  .  .  .  speak  in.     See  Gr.  270  and  424. 

107.  You  sign  your  place,  etc.  "By  your  outward  meekness  and  hu- 
mility, you  show  that  you  are  of  an  holy  order,  but,"  etc.  (Johnson). 

112.  Where  powers  are  your  retainers,  etc.  "  What  an  image  is  present- 
ed of  an  unscrupulous  but  most  able  man,  to  say  that  hisyVztwj-  are  used 
as  the  mere  agents  of  his  pleasures,  and  his  words,  without  regard  to  the 
general  obligation  of  truth,  are  'domestics'  who  serve  but  his  will  "  (K.). 

115.   You  tender  more.     You  value  or  regard  more.     See  Temp.  p.  127. 

119.  Fore.     Usually  printed  '"fore"  ;  but  see  Hen.  V.  p.  155. 

She  cttrtsies  to  the  King,  and  offers  to  depart.  Cavendish  says  :  "And 
with  that  she  rose  up,  making  a  low  curtsy  to  the  king,  and  so  departed 
from  thence.  Many  supposed  that  she  would  have  resorted  again  to  her 
former  place,  but  she  took  her  way  straight  out  of  the  house,  leaning;,  as 
she  was  wont  to  do,  upon  the  arm  of  her  general  receiver,  called  Master 
Griffith.  And  the  king,  being  advertised  of  her  departure,  commanded 
the  crier  to  call  her  again,  who  called  her  by  the  name  of  'Katherine 
queen  of  England,  come  into  the  court.'  With  that  quoth  Master  Grif- 
fith, 'Madam,  ye  be  called  again.'  'On,  on,'  quoth  she,  'it  maketh  no 
matter,  for  it  is  no  indifferent  court  for  me,  therefore  I  will  not  tarry.  Go 
on  your  ways.'  And  thus  she  departed  out  of  that  court,  without  any  far- 
ther answer  at  that  time,  or  at  any  other,  nor  would  never  appear  at  any 
other  court  after." 

133.   That  man  .  .  .  let  him.     See  Gr.  414. 

147.  Fully  satisfied.     Fully  indemnified  for  the  injury  done  him. 

164.  The  passages  made  toward  it.     The  approaches  made  toward  it. 
Steevens  explained  made  as  " closed 'or  fastened"  putting  a  colon  after  hin- 
der e,  I. 

165.  Speak.     Vouch  for. 

169.  My  conscience  first  received.  Cavendish  makes  the  king  say,  "It 
was  a  certain  scrupulosity  that  pricked  my  conscience  upon  divers  words 
that  were  spoken  at  a  certain  time  by  the  Bishop  of  Hayonne,"  etc.  It 


ACT  II.     SCENE  IV. 


'79 


was,  in  fact,  the  Bishop  of  Tarbes.  See  Froude,  History  of  England, 
vol.  i.  p.  1 14  ( Amer.  ed.  >. 

172.  The  debating.  On  the,  see  Gr.  93.  The  folio  misprints  "And 
Marriage." 

174.  /'  the  progress  of  this  business,  etc.  "And  upon  the  resolution 
and  determination  thereof,  he  desired  respite  to  advertise  the  king  his 
master  thereof,  whether  our  daughter  Mary  should  be  legitimate  in  re- 
pect  of  the  marriage  which  was  sometime  between  the  queen  here  and 
my  brother  the  late  Prince  Arthur.  These  words  were  so  conceived  with- 
in my  scrupulous  conscience,  that  it  bred  a  doubt  within  my  breast,  which 
doubt  pricked,  vexed,  and  troubled  so  my  mind,  and  so  disquieted  me, 
that  I  was  in  great  doubt  of  God's  indignation"  (Cavendish). 

177.  Advertise.     Accent  on  the  penult.     See  Gr.  491. 

1 80.  Sometimes.     Formerly.      See  M.  of  V.  p.  130. 

181.  The  bosom  of  my  conscience,  etc.      According  to   Holinshed,  the 
king  said,  "  Which  words,  once  conceived  within  the  secret  bottom  of  my 
conscience,"  etc.     Theo.  therefore  altered  bosom  to  "  bottom,"  which  D. 
and  H.  also  adopt.     In  the  next  line  the  1st  folio  has  "spitting;"  cor- 
rected in  the  2d  folio. 

191.  Thus  hulling,  etc.  Cavendish's  words  are,  "  Thus  being  troubled 
in  waves  of  a  scrupulous  conscience  ;"  and  Holinshed's,  "  Thus  my  con- 
science being  tossed  in  the  waves  of  a  scrupulous  mind."  To  hull,  as  ex- 
plained by  Steevens,  is  to  drift  about  dismasted;  but  according  to  Rich. 
(cf.  \Vb.),  "  a  ship  is  said  to  hull  when  all  her  sails  are  taken  down,  and  she 
floats  to  and  fro."  This  is  obviously  the  meaning  in  Kick.  Iff.  iv.4-  438 : 

"And  there  they  hull,  expecting  but  the  aid 
Of  Buckingham  to  welcome  them  ashore." 

Cf.  Milton,  P.  L.  xi.  840 :  "  He  look'd,  and  saw  the  ark  hull  on  the  flood." 

196.  And  yet  not  well.  That' is,  and  not  yet  well.  See  M.  ofV.  p.  146 
(note  on  Yet  have  I  not},  or  Gr.  76. 

198.  First,  I  began  in  private,  etc.  "I  moved  it  in  confession  to  you, 
my  lord  of  Lincoln,  then  my  ghostly  father.  And  forasmuch  as  then  you 
yourself  were  in  some  doubt,  you  moved  me  to  ask  the  counsel  of  all 
these  my  lords.  Whereupon  I  moved  you,  my  lord  of  Canterbury,  first 
to  have  your  licence,  inasmuch  as  you  were  metropolitan,  to  put  this 
matter  in.  question  ;  and  so  I  did  of  all  of  you,  my  lords"  (Holinshed). 

200.  Reek.  "  Cf.  L.  L.  L.  iv.  3.  140 :  '  Saw  sighs  reek  from  you' ;  A.  Y.  L. 
ii.  7.  148:  'Sighing  like  furnace.'  This  image  of  visible  sighs,  coming 
forth  like  a  fume  or  vapor,  is  peculiarly  Shakespearian"  (Adee). 

206.  That  I  committed,  etc.  "  That  I  committed  to  doubt,  repressed 
under  hesitation,  the  most  forward  opinion  of  my  own  mind"  (J.  H.). 

217.  Drives.  The  folio  reading,  altered  to  "drive"  by  the  editors  gen- 
erally ;  but  see  M.  of  V.  p.  136  (note  on  151),  or  Gr.  333. 

222.  Paragoned.     Extolled  as  a  paragon.     See  Gr.  290. 

227.  /  may  perceive.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  133  (note  on  6),  or  Gr.  307,  309. 

231.  Prithee,  return.  Cranmer  was  at  this  time  abroad  on  an  embassy 
connected  with  this  business  of  the  divorce.  See  iii.  2.  64  below.  Some 
of  the  earlier  editors,  not  understanding  this,  added  here  the  marginal 
direction,  "  [The  King  speaks  to  Cranmtv" 


i8o  NOTES. 

233.  Set  on.  We  use  this  phrase  only  in  the  sense  of  incite,  cr  insti- 
gate (as  in  T.  N.  v.  i.  189:  "I  was  set  on  to  do  't) ;  but  in  S.  it  also 
means  to  proceed,  lead  the  way,  set  out,  etc.  Cf.  J.  C.  i.  2.  u  :  "  Set  on  ; 
and  leave  no  ceremony  out ;"  M.  for  M.  iii.  i.  61  :  "To-morrow  you  set 
on  ;"  i  Hen.  IV.  v.  2.  97 :  "  Now— Esperance  !  Percy  !— and  set  on,"  etc. 


CARDINAL    WOLSEY. 


ACT  III. 


SCENE  I. — The  visit  of  Wolsey  and  Campeius  to  Katherine  is  thus  de- 
scribed by  Cavendish  (as  quoted  by  K.)  : 

"  And  then  my  lord  rose  up  and  made  him  ready,  taking  his  barge,  and 
went  straight  to  Bath  Place  to  the  other  cardinal,  and  so  went  together 
unto  Bridewell,  directly  to  the  queen's  lodging ;  and  they,  being  in  her 
chamber  of  presence,  showed  to  the  gentleman  usher  that  they  came  to 
speak  with  the  queen's  grace.  The  gentleman  usher  advertised  the  queen 
thereof  incontinent.  With  that  she  came  out  of  her  privy  chamber  with 
a  skein  of  white  thread  about  her  neck,  into  the  chamber  of  presence, 
where  the  cardinals  were  giving  of  attendance  upon  her  coming.  At 


ACT  III.    SCENE  /.  181 

whose  coming  quoth  she,  'Alack,  my  lords,  I  am  very  sorry  to  can 
t«>  .itu-nd  upon  me  ;  what  is  your  pleasure  with  me  ?'  '  If  it  please  you,' 
quoth  my  lord  cardinal, '  to  go  into  your  privy  chamber,  we  will  show  you 
the  cause  of  our  coming.'  'My  lord,'  quoth  she,  'if  you  have  anything  to 
say,  speak  it  openly  before  all  these  folks,  for  I  fear  nothing  that  ye  can 
say  or  allege  against  me,  but  that  I  would  all  the  world  should  both  hear 
and  see  it ;  therefore  I  pray  you  speak  your  minds  openly.'  Then  began 
my  lord  to  speak  to  her  in  Latin.  '  Nay,  good  my  lord,'  quoth  she, '  speak 
to  me  in  English  I  beseech  you ;  although  I  understand  Latin.'  '  For- 
sooth then,'  quoth  my  lord, '  Madam,  if  it  please  your  grace,  we  came  both 
to  know  your  mind,  how  ye  be  disposed  to  do  in  this  matter  between  the 
king  and  you,  and  also  to  declare  secretly  our  opinions  and  our  counsel 
unto  you,  which  we  have  intended  of  very  zeal  and  obedience  that  we 
bear  to  your  grace.'  '  My  lords,  I  thank  you  then,'  quoth  she,  '  of  your 
good  wills ;  but  to  make  answer  to  your  request  I  cannot  so  suddenly, 
for  I  was  set  among  my  maidens  at  work,  thinking  full  little  of  any  such 
matter,  wherein  there  needeth  a  large  deliberation,  and  a  better  head  than 
mine,  to  make  answer  to  so  noble  wise  men  as  ye  be  ;  I  had  need  of  good 
counsel  in  this  case,  which  toucheth  me  so  near ;  and  for  any  counsel  or 
friendship  that  I  can  find  in  England,  they  are  nothing  to  my  purpose  or 
profit.  Think  you,  I  pray  you,  my  lords,  will  any  Englishman  counsel  or 
be  friendly  unto  me  against  the  king's  pleasure,  they  being  his  subjects  ? 
Nay,  forsooth,  my  lords  !  and  for  my  counsel  in  whom  I  do  intend  to  put 
my  trust  be  not  here  ;  they  be  in  Spain,  in  my  native  country.  Alas,  my 
lords  !  I  am  a  poor  woman  lacking  both  wit  and  understanding  sufficiently 
to  answer  such  approved  wise  men  as  ye  be  both,  in  so  weighty  a  matter. 
I  pray  you  to  extend  your  good  and  indifferent  minds  in  your  authority 
unto  me,  for  I  am  a  simple  woman,  destitute  and  barren  of  friendship  and 
counsel  here  in  a  foreign  region  ;  and  as  for  your  counsel,  I  will  not  re- 
fuse, but  be  glad  to  hear.' 

"And  with  that  she  took  my  lord  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  her 
privy  chamber,  with  the  other  cardinal,  where  they  were  in  long  commu- 
nication :  we,  in  the  other  chamber,  might  sometime  hear  the  queen  speak 
very  loud,  but  what  it  was  we  could  not  understand.  The  communication 
ended,  the  cardinals  departed,  and  went  directly  to  the  king,  making  to 
him  relation  of  their  talk  with  the  queen,  and  after  resorted  home  to  their 
houses  to  supper." 

I.  Wench.     Young  woman  ;  not  contemptuous.     See  Temp.  p.  115. 
3.  Orpheus.     Cf.  M.  of  V.  v.  I.  80  ;  and  see  our  ed.  p.  163. 

7.  As.     As  if.     See  on  i.  i.  10  above. 

II.  Lay  by.    'Equivalent  to  lay  down  (Schmidt). 

13.  Killing  care.  That  killing  care,  etc.  The  ellipsis  sometimes  oc- 
curs after  such,  as  after  so  (Gr.  282).  K.  puts  a  colon  after  art ;  but  the 
folio  has  a  comma. 

17.  The  presence.     The  presence-chamber  ;  as  in  Rich.  If.  i.  3.  289. 

22.  They  should  be  good  men,  etc.  "  Being  churchmen  they  should  be 
virtuous,  and  every  business  they  undertake  as  righteous  as  their  sacred 
office,  but  all  hoods,  etc."  (Malone).  Cucullus  non  facit  monachum  is  an 
old  Latin  proverb.  Cf.  M,for  M.\.  i.  263. 


1 82  NOTES. 

24.  Part  of  a  housewife,  etc.     To  some  extent  a  housewife  ;  I  would  fain 
be  wholly  one,  that  I  may  be  prepared  for  the  worst  that  may  happen. 
30.  O'  my  conscience.     On  0/~in  adjurations,  see  Gr.  169. 

36.  Envy  and  base  opinion  set  against  'em.     Malice  and  calumny  pitted 
against  them.     See  on  ii.  I.  85  above. 

37.  So  even.     So  consistent. 

If  your  business,  etc.  If  your  business  is  with  me,  and  concerning  my 
conduct  as  a  wife.  Mason  read  "wise"  for  "wife,  explaining  the  passage 
thus  :  "  If  your  business  relates  to  me,  or  to  anything  of  which  I  have  any 
knowledge."  D.  adopts  this  emendation,  which  W.  also  regards  with 
favour ;  but  it  seems  to  us  quite  as  awkward  as  the  original  reading. 

40.  Tan/a  est,  etc.  "  So  great  is  our  integrity  of  purpose  towards  thee. 
most  serene  princess." 

45.  More  strange,  suspicions.  Perhaps  we  ought  to  read  "  more  strange- 
suspicious,"  as  Abbott  suggests  (Gr.  2). 

52.  A  nd  service  to  his  majesty  and  yon.  Edwards  suggested  that  this  line 
and  the  next  had  been  accidentally  transposed  ;  but,  as  W.  remarks,  "in- 
tegrity cannot  alone  breed  suspicion  ;  it  must  be  joined  with  misunder- 
stood service  to  produce  such  an  effect."  H.  transposes  the  lines. 

61.  Your  cause.  The  1st  folio  has  "our  cause;"  corrected  in  the  2d 
folio. 

65.  Which  was  too  far.     Cf.  i.  1. 38  above. 

72.  My  weak  wit.  My  weak  judgment,  or  understanding.  Cf.  J.  C.  iii. 
2.  225  :  "  For  I  have  neither  wit,  nor  words,  nor  worth/'  The  word  is 
also  used  by  S.  in  its  modern  sense  ;  as  in  Much  Ado,  i.  1.63  :  "they 
never  meet  but  there  is  a  skirmish  of  wit  between  them,"  etc. 

77.  For  her  sake,  tic.     For  the  sake  of  the  royalty  that  has  been  mine. 

86.  Though  he  be  grown  so  desperate,  etc.  Though  he  be  so  rash  as  to 
express  an  honest  opinion.  Johnson  paraphrases  the  passage  thus  : 
"Do  you  think  that  any  Englishman  dare  advise  me;  or,  if  any  man 
should  venture  to  advise  with  honesty,  that  he  could  live?" 

88.  Weigh  out.  We  think  this  means  to  estimate  fairly,  to  consider 
impartially.  Johnson  hesitated  between  "deliberate  upon,  consider  with 
due  attention,"  and  "counterbalance,  counteract  with  equal  force."  Af- 
flictions is  a  quadrisyllable  ;  like  distraction  in  112  below. 

94.  Much  Both  for  your  honour  better.    Much  better,  etc.    Gr.  419^,420. 

97.  You  '//  part  away.     On  part  —  depart,  see  M.  of  V.  p.  145. 

102.  The  more  shame  for  ye.  "  If  I  mistake  you,  it  is  by  your  fault, 
not  mine  ;  for  I  thought  you  good"  (Johnson).  On  ye,  see  Gr.  236. 

117.  Churchmen's  habits.  Priestly  vestments  ;  "glistering  semblances 
of  piety"  (Hen.  V.  ii.  2.  117). 

125.  Speak  myself.     That  is,  of  myself.     Cf.  iv.  2.  32  below. 

131.  Superstitious  to  him.  "That  is,  served  him  with  superstitious  at- 
tention ;  done  more  than  was  required"  (Johnson). 

134.  A  constant  woman  to  her  husband.  A  woman  faithful  to  her  hus- 
band. See  on  94  just  above. 

145.  Ye  'hare  angels'  faces,  etc.  Perhaps  "an  allusion  to  the  saying 
attributed  to  St.  Augustine,  Non  Angli  sed  AngelT  (D.).*  Cf.  Greene's 

*  According  to  Beda,  the  paternity  of  this  pun  belongs  to  Pope  Gregory  the  Great. 


ACT  III.     SCENE   II.  183 

Spanish  Masquerade:  "England,  a  little  island,  where,  as  Saint  Augus- 
tin  saith,  there  be  people  with  angel  faces,  so  the  inhabitants  have  the 
courage  and  hearts  of  lions." 

151.  Like  the  lily,  etc.  Cf.  Spenser,  h\  Q.  ii.  6.  16 :  "  The  lilly,  Lady  of 
the  flowring  field." 

164.  Grow  as  terrible  as  storms.  Lord  Essex  was  charged  with  saying, 
in  a  letter  written  in  1598  to  the  lord  keeper,  "There  is  no  tempest  to 
the  passionate  indignation  of  a  prince"  (Malone). 

176.  If  I  have  us\i  myself,  etc.     If  I  have  deported  myself,  etc. 

SCENE  II. — 2.  Force  them.  Enforce  or  urge  them.  Cf.  Cor.  iii.  2.  51  : 
"  Why  force  you  this  ?"  etc. 

3.  If  you  omit  The  o/er,  etc.  If  you  neglect  the  opportunity.  See 
Temp.  p.  125,  note  on  Omit  the  heavy  offer  of  it. 

5. '.If of.     See  on  ii.  3.  95  above. 

10.  Have  uncontemifd,  etc.  "  Have  not  gone  by  him  contemned  or 
neglected"  (Johnson).  As  Mason  remarks,  the  negative  in  uncontemn'd 
is  extended  to  neglected. 

16.  Gives  way  to  us.  Leaves  a  way  open  to  us.  Cf.  J.  C.  ii.  3.  8 :  "  Se- 
curity gives  way  to  conspiracy." 

22.  He  's  settled,  etc.  "  He' is  fixed  in  the  king's  displeasure,  never  to 
get  out  of  it"  (J.  H.). 

30.  The  cardinal's  letter.  The  folio  has  "The  Cardinal's  Letters;" 
but  below  we  find  "this  Letter  of  the  Cardinals"  and  "the  Letter  (as  I 
line)  with  all  the  Businesse  I  wrote  too  's  Holinesse." 

37.  Will  this  -work1?     "Will   this  influence  the  king  against  him?" 
G-  H.) 

38.  How  he  coasts  And  hedges,  etc.     Creeps  along  by  coast  and  hedge. 
As  Mason  remarks,  "hedging  is  by  land  what  coasting  is  by  sea." 

44.  Now  all  my  joy,  etc.     The  folio  reading,  followed  by  K.,  D.,  and 
W.     Capell  and  the  Coll.  MS.  read,  "  Now  may  all  joy  ;"  and  some  edit- 
ors have  "  Now  all  joy."    W.  compares  B.  and  F.,  Coxcontb,  iv.  4  :  "  Now 
all  my  blessing  on  thee  !" — Trace  is  to  follow;  as  in  Macb.  iv.  I.  153: 
"all  unfortunate  souls  That  trace  him  in  his  line." 

45.  All  null's.     All  men's  amen  :  with  perhaps  a  play  upon  amen. 
47.  But  young,  etc.     But  recent,  and  not  to  be  told  to  everybody. 

49.  Complete.     Cf.  the  accent  with  that  in  i.  2.  1 18  above — the  only  other 
instance  of  the  word  in  this  play.     Gr.  492. 

50.  /  persuade  me,  etc.     I  persuade  myself,  etc.     For  the  allusion  to 
Elizabeth,  cf.  ii.  3.  76  above. 

52.  Memorized.     Made  memorable.     Cf.  Macb.  i.  2.  40:  "  Or  memorize 
another  Golgotha." 

53.  Digest  this  letter.      Cf.  L.  L.  L.  v.  2.  289  : 

"for  it  can  never  be 
They  will  digest  this  harsh  indignity." 

64.  He  is  returned  in  his  opinions,  etc.     "  The  construction  is  here  dif- 

who,  on  seeing  some  Saxon  youths  offered  for  sale  in  the  slave-market  at  Rome,  asked 
from  what  country  they  came;  and  being  told  that  they  were  Angles  (Angli),  replied 
that  they  ought  rather  to  be  called  angels  (<mgeli). 


!84  NOTES. 

ficult,  and  the  meaning  equivocal.  The  passage  means  probably  that 
Cranmer  is  actually  returned  in  his  opinions — in  the  same  opinions  which 
he  formerly  maintained,  supported  by  the  opinions  of  'all  famous  col- 
leges'" (K.).  H.  thinks  that  /;/  is  used  for  wttA,  and  that  the  opinions 
are  those  "of  learned  canonists  and  divines  in  Italy  and  elsewhere," 
which  Cranmer  had  been  sent  to  collect.  We  should  prefer  this  expla- 
nation to  the  other  if  in  =  wilh  were  found  anywhere  else. 

67.  Almost.     On  the  transposition,  see  Gr.  420. 

72.  To1  en  much  pain.     Below  (v.  i.  120)  we  have  "  ta'en  some  pains.' 
See  M.  of  V.  p.  140. 

78.  O1  the  inside.     See  Gr.  175. 

85.  The  Duchess  of  Alencon.  The  daughter  of  Charles  of  Orleans, 
Count  of  Angoul£me,  married  in  1509  to  Charles,  Duke  of  Alen9on,  who 
died  in  1525.  Two  years  later  she  was  married  to  Henry  d'Albret,  King 
of  Navarre.  J.  H.  confounds  her  with  Margaret  of  Valois,  daughter  of 
Henry  II.  and  Catharine  de'  Medici,  and  queen  O  Henry  of  Navarre, 
afterwards  Henry  IV.  of  France.  "The  Duchess  f  Alen9on"  was  the 
grandmother  of  Henry  of  Navarre. 

88.  More  in  V  than  fair  visage.     More  to  be  thought  of  than  beauty. 

92.  Does  whet  his  anger  to  him.  That  is,  against  him.  Cf.  Much  Ado, 
ii.  i.  243  :  "The  Lady  Beatrice  hath  a  quarrel  to  you."  Gr.  187. 

Sharp  enough,  etc.     That  is,  may  it  be  whetted  sharp  enough,  etc. 

roi.  Hard-rid*  d.     Hard  to  be  ruled,  self-willed. 

102.  One  Hath  crawfd.     One  who  hath,  etc.     Gr.  244. 

106.  Enter  the  King,  reading  a  schedule.  Steevens  remarks  :  "That  the 
cardinal  gave  the  king  an  inventory  of  his  own  private  wealth  by  mistake, 
and  thereby  ruined  himself,  is  a  known  variation  from  the  truth  of  history. 
Shakespeare,  however,  has  not  injudiciously  represented  the  fall  of  that 
great  man  as  owing  to  an  incident  which  he  had  once  improved  to  the 
destruction  of  another."  Holinshed  relates  this  incident  as  follows : 

"  Thomas  Ruthall,  Bishop  of  Durham,  was,  after  the  death  of  Henry 
VII.,  one  of  the*  privy  council  to  Henry  VI II.,  to  whom  the  king  gave  in 
charge  to  write  a  book  of  the  whole  estate  of  the  kingdom.  Afterwards, 
the  king  commanded  Cardinal  Wolsey  to  go  to  this  bishop,  and  to  bring 
the  book  away  with  him.  This  bishop  having  written  two  books  (the 
one  to  answer  the  king's  command,  and  the  other  intreating  of  his  own 
private  affairs),  did  bind  them  both  after  one  sort  in  vellum.  Now  when 
the  cardinal  came  to  demand  the  book  due  to  the  king,  the  bishop  unad- 
visedly commanded  his  servant  to  bring  him  the  book  bound  in  white 
vellum,  lying  in  his  study,  in  such  a  place.  The  servant  accordingly 
brought  forth  one  of  the  books  so  bound,  being  the  book  intreating  of  the 
state  of  the  bishop.  The  cardinal  having  the  book  went  from  the  bishop, 
and  after  (in  his  study  by  himself)  understanding  the  contents  thereof,, 
he  greatly  rejoiced,  having  now  occasion  (which  he  long  sought  for)  of- 
fered unto  him,  to  bring  the  bishop  into  the  king's  disgrace."  The  result 
was  that  the  bishop  "  shortly,  through  extreme  sorrow,  ended  his  life  at 
London,  in  the  year  of  Christ  1523?'  and  "the  cardinal,  who  had  long 
before  gaped  after  his  bishopric,"  succeeded  thereto. 

117.  //,/;</.     Here  a  dissyllable.     Gr.  485. 


ACT  II f.    SCENE  If.  185 

122.  Wot.     The  present  tense  of  wit  (A.  S.  witan.  to  know,  of  which 
the  1st  and  3d  persons  sing,  are  writ),  used  some  thirty  times  by  S.     See 
Matzner,  Eng.  Grunt.  \.  382.     Cf.  Gen.  xxi.  26,  xxxix.  8,  xliv.  15,  etc. 

123.  Unwittingly.     Used  only  h-  re  .md  in  Kith.  1 1 1.  ii.  i.  56.     We  find 
the  verb  miwit  in  Oth.  ii.  3.  182  :  "  As  it" some  plam-i  had  unwitted  them." 

127.  At  such  proud  rate,  etc.  On  so  grand  a  scale  that  it  exceeds  what 
a  subject  ought  to  possess. 

130.  Withal.  "The  emphatic  form  of  with"  (Or.  196) ;  but  sometimes 
(as  in  164  below)  =with  this,  besides. 

132.  Object.     The  4th  folio  has  "objects,"  which  I),  and  H.  adopt. 

134.  Below  the  moon.     "  Sublunary  ;  '  of  the  earth,  earthy'  "  (Adee). 

138.  In  your  mind.     In  your  memory. 

140.  Spiritual  leisure.  "That  is,  time  devoted  to  spiritual  affairs. 
Leisure  seems  to  be  opposed,  not  to  occupation,  but  to  toilsome  and 
compulsory  or  necessary  occupation"  (W.).  According  to  Nares,  the 
word  "stands  simply  for  space  or  time  allowed."  See  Kick.  II.  i.  i.  5  : 
"  Which  then  our  leisure  would  not  let  us  hear  ;"  Rich.  III.  v.  3.  97  : 
"  The  leisure  and  the  fearful  time  Cuts  off,"  etc. ;  and  Id.  v.  3.  238  :  "  The 
leisure  and  enforcement  of  the  time  Forbids  to  dwell  upon."  We  still 
say  "  I  would  do  it,  if  leisure  permitted,"  etc.  In  these  instances,  leisure 
is  not  precisely  "  want  of  leisure,"  as  some  explain  it,  but  rather  "  what 
leisure  I  have" — which  may  be  very  little. 

142.  An  ill  husband.  A  bad  manager.  Cf.  T.  ofS.v.  I.  71  :  "I  am 
undone  !  While  I  play  the  good  husband  at  home,  my  son  and  my  ser- 
vant spend  all  at  the  University."  The  word  means  husbandman  in  2 
Hen.  IV.  v.  3.  12  :  "  he  is  your  servingman  and  your  husband." 

149.  Tendance.  Attention.  Cf.  T.  of  A.  i.  i.  57  :  "his  love  and  tendance." 

159.  Par1  d  my  present  havings.   Diminished  my  wealth.   Cf.  ii.  3.  23  above. 

162.  The  prime  man.  The  first  man.  Cf.  Temp.  \.  2. 425  :  "  My  prime 
request,  Which  I  do  last  pronounce."  See  also  ii.  4.  221  above. 

168.  Which  went.  "The  sense  is,  '  My  purposes  went  beyond  all  hu- 
man endeavour.  I  purposed  for  your  honour  more  than  it  falls  within 
the  compass  of  man's  nature  to  attempt'  "  (Johnson).  Which,  however, 
may  refer  to  graces. 

171.  Yet  fir  d  with.     That  is,  kept  pace  with,  came  up  to.     The  folio 
has  "fill'd,"  which  Coll.  would  retain. 

172.  So.     In  so  far  as. 

178.  Ever  has  and  ever  shall  be.     On  the  ellipsis  of  been,  cf.  Gr.  395. 
181.   The  honour  of  it,  etc.     "  The  honour  of  possessing  such  a  spirit  is 
a  reward  of  its  own  exercise,  as  in  the  contrary  case  the  baseness  of  a  dis- 
loyal and  disobedient  spirit  is  itself  a  penal  degradation"  (J.  H.). 

1 88.  Notwithstanding,  etc.     "Besides  the  general   bond  of  duty,  by 
which  you  are  obliged  to  be  a  loyal  and  ohedisnt  subject,  you  owe  a  partic- 
ular devotion  of  yourself  to  me  as  your  particular  benefactor"  (Johnson). 
192.   That  am  true,  etc.     The  folio  gives  this  speech  as  follows  : 
"I  do  professe, 

That  for  your  Highnesse  good.  I  ener  laboured 
More  then  mine  o\vne  :  that  am,  haue,  and  will  be 
.Though  all  the  world  should  cracke  their  dut>   to  you, 
And  throw  it  from  their  Soule,  though  perils  did 


T.  86  NOTES. 

Abound,  as  thicke  as  thought  could  make  'em,  and 
Appeare  in  formes  more  horrid)  yet  my  Duty 
As  doth  a  Rocke  against  the  chiding  Flood, 
Should  the  approach  of  this  wilde  Riuer  breake, 
And  stand  vnshaken  yours." 

"  The  last  part  of  the  third  line  has  long  been  incomprehensible  to  read- 
ers, and  unmanageable  to  editors.  Rowe  read, '  That  am  /,  have  been, 
will  be.'  Mason  would  have  struck  the  words  out.  Malone,  with  some 
probability,  supposed  that  a  line  had  been  lost  after  'and  will  be.'  Mr. 
Singer  reads,  '  that  /  am  true,  and  will  be ;'  and  it  appears  to  me  that  by 
the  latter  word,  which  it  will  be  seen  involves  but  the  change  of  two  let- 
ters, he  has  solved  the  difficulty.  But  the  introduction  of  V  is  needless, 
as  the  pronoun  occurs  twice  in  the  two  preceding  lines  ;  and  under  such 
circumstances  the  grammar  of  Shakespeare's  time  allowed  it  to  be  under- 
stood. .  .  .  The  slight  misprint  was  doubtless  assisted  by  this  omission, 
and  the  introduction  of  the  long  parenthesis — out  of  place  in  any  case — 
was  a  printer's  desperate  effort  to  solve  the  difficulty  of  the  passage.  The 
words  '  that  am,  have,  and  will  be,'  might  well  stand  as  equivalent  to  '  that 
am,  have  been,  and  will  be  ;'  but  this  would  not  solve  the  difficulty  ;  which 
is  to  find  a  subject  and  a  predicate  for  all  these  verbs"  (\Y '.). 

197.  The  chiding  flood.  The  sounding,  or  noisy  flood.  Cf.  I  Hen.  IV. 
iii.  i.  45  :  "  the  sea  That  chides  the  banks  of  England  ;"  A.  Y.  L.  ii.  I.  7  : 
"  And  churlish  chiding  of  the  winter  wind  ;"  M.  N.  D.  iv.  I.  120  :  "  Never 
did  I  hear  Such  gallant  chiding"  (of  hounds),  etc. 

203.   What  should  this  menu  ?     See  Gr.  325. 

209.  The  story  of  his  anger.     The  explanation  of  his  anger. 

226.  Like  a  bright  exhalation,  etc.     Like  a  shooting  star. 

227.  Enter  the  Dukes  of  Norfolk  and  Suffolk,  etc.   "  Reed  remarked  that 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  who  is  introduced  in  the  first  Scene  of  the  first  Act, 
or  in  1522,  is  not  the  same  person  who  here,  or  in   1529,  demands  the 
great  seal  from  Wolsey  ;  for  Thomas  Howard,  who  was  created  Duke  of 
Norfolk  in  1514,  died,  we  are  informed  by  Holinshed,  in  1525.     And  not 
only  are  two  persons  made  one,  but  one,  two.     For  this  Earl  of  Surrey 
is  the  same  who  married  Buckingham's  daughter,  as  we  learn  from  his 
own  lips  in  the  first  part  of  this  Scene  ;  and  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  Bucking- 
ham's son-in-law,  is  also  the  very  Duke  of  Norfolk  who  here  demands  the 
seals  ;  both  titles  having  been  at  that  time  in  the  family,  and  he  having 
been  summoned  to  Parliament  in  15 14  as  Earl  of  Surrey  in  his  own  right, 
his  father  sitting  as  Duke  of  Norfolk.     But  this  supposes  a  needless  com- 
plication of  blunders.     Shakespeare's  only  error  was,  probably,  ignorance 
or  forgetfulness  of  the  fact  that  the  Duke  ofA7«rfolk,  whom  he  first  brings 
upon  the  stage,  died  before  Wolsey's  fall ;  and  we  are  to  consider  Norfolk 
and  Surrey  in  this  Scene  as  father  and  son,  and  the  former  as  the  same 
person  who  appears  in  the  first  scene"  (\V.). 

It  is  an  historical  fact  that  Wolsey  refused  to  deliver  up  the  great  seal 
at  the  demand  of  the  dukes.  He  retained  it  until  the  next  day,  when 
they  returned  with  the  king's  written  order  for  its  surrender. 

231.  Asher-house.  It  appears  from  Holinshecl  that  As/ier  was  the  an- 
cient name  of  Esher,  near  Hampton  Court.  "Shakespeare  forgot  that 
Wolsey  was  himself  Bishop  of  Winchester,  unless  he  meant  to  say,  you 


ACT  II L    SCENE  II.  !87 

must  confine  yourself  to  that  house  which  you  possess  as  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester" <  Mafone).  See  Addenda  below. 

236.  Till  I  find  more  than  wiiL  < -d  .  "Till  I  find  more  than  will  or 
words  (/  mean  more-  than  your  maiuious  will  and  words)  to  do  it — that 
is,  lo  r.uiv  authority  so  weighty — I  will  deny  to  return  what  the  king  has 
given  me"  (Johnson). 

240.  J/r  diffracts.  The  folio  reading.  D.  and  II.  have  "disgrace;" 
but  thr  if  re  k1  is  to  following  my  disgraces. 

244.  You  //</;•<•  ( Christian  warrant,  etc.   This  is  either  ironical  or  sarcastic. 

247.  Mine  and ycur  master.     On  mine,  see  Gr.  238. 

250.  Letters  patents.  This  is  the  folio  reading,  and,  as  D.  remarks,  is 
"according  to  the  phraseology  of  S.'s  time."  We  find  the  same  form  in 
Rich.  II.  ii.  I.  202  and  ii-3-  130 — the  only  other  places  where  S.  uses  the 
expression.  ('(".  Greene's  James  //'.  ii.  i  :  "your  letters-patents,"  etc. 

253.  These  forty  hours.  Malone  thought  that  S.  wrote  "these  four 
hours  ;"  but,  as  Steevens  remarks,  "  forty  seems  anciently  to  have  been  the 
familiar  number  on  many  occasions,  where  no  very  exact  reckoning  was 
necessary."  J.  H.  suggests  that  "  forty  hours  would  have  given  the  car- 
dinal time  to  take  vengeance  on  Surrey." 

259.  Plague  of  your  policy.  Cf.  i  Hen.  IV.  ii.  4.  127  :  "  A  plague  of  all 
cowards  !"  with  Temp.  i.  i.  39  :  "A  plague  upon  this  howling  !"  Gr.  175. 

265.  Lay  upon  my  credit.     Bring  against  my  reputation. 

267.  Innocent  .  .  .from.  Cf.  2  Hen.  VI.  iii.  i.  69:  "innocent  from 
meaning  treason  ;"  and  Macb.  iii.  2.  45  :  "innocent  of  the  knowledge." 

272.  Tkat  in  the  way,  etc.  Theo.  reads  "  That  I,  in  the  way,"  which  I), 
adopts.  The  meaning  may  be,  you  that  dare  mate  (match  yourself  with) 
me,  who  am  a  sounder  man,  etc.  Even  if  we  consider  dare  to  be  in  the  first 
person,  that  (relative  referring  to  /in  I  should  tell  you]  may  be  its  subject, 
and  Theobald's  interpolation  is  needless. 

280.  Jaded  by  a  piece  of  scarlet.  Overborne  or  overmastered  by  a  priest. 
As  in  "  scarlet  sin"  above,  there  is  an  obvious  allusion  to  the  colour  of 
the  cardinal's  hat  and  robes.*  Cf.  I  Hen.  VI.  i.  3.  56,  where  Gloster  calls 
Cardinal  Beaufort  a  "scarlet  hypocrite." 

282.  Dare  us  with  his  cap,  like  larks.  "  One  of  the  methods  of  daritig 
larks  was  by  small  mirrors  fastened  on  scarlet  cloth,  which  engaged  the 
attention  of  these  birds  while  the  fowler  drew  his  net  over  them"  (Stee- 
vens). Cf.  Greene's  Never  Too  Late,  part  i. :  "  They  set  out  their  faces  as 
Fowlers  do  their  daring  glasses,  that  the  Larkes  that  soare  highest  may 
stoope  soonest." 

291.  Our  ismes.  Our  sons.  In  the  next  line  the  folio  has  "  Whom  if 
he  line,"  which  may  be  what  S.  wrote.  Cf.  Gr.  410. 

298.  Fairer  And  spotless.  This  may  be  (as  H.  makes  it)  =  fairer  and 
more  spotless.  Cf.  M.  of  V.  iii.  2.  295  :  "The  best  condition'd  and  un- 
wearied spirit  ;''  and  see  our  ed.  p.  152.  Gr.  398. 

*  Cf.  Cavendish's  description  of  \Volsev  as  he  used  to  go  from  his  house  to  Westmin- 
ster Hall :  ''  He  came  out  of  his  privy  chamber,  about  eight  of  the  clock,  appareled  all 
in  red ;  that  is  to  say,  his  upper  garment  was  either  of  fine  scarlet  or  taffety,  but  most 
commonly  of  fine  crimson  satin  engrained  ;  his  pillion  [that  is,  ca/>]  of  fine  scarlet,  with 
a  neck  set  in  the  inner  side  with  black  velvet,  and  a  tippet  of  sables  about  his  neck,"  etc. 


j88  A'OTES. 

309.  You  wrought  to  be  a  legate,  etc.  You  manoeuvred  to  be  one  of  the 
pope's  legates,  and  the  power  you  thus  gained  diminished  the  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  bishops.  As  legate,  Wolsey  took  precedence  ot'aii  other  ec- 
clesiastical authorities  in  the  realm. 

312.  Egoet  Rex  metis.  Holinshed  says  :  "  In  all  writings  which  he  wrote 
to  Rome,  or  any  other  foreign  prince,  he  wrote  Ego  et  Rex  metis,  I  and  my 
king ;  as  who  would  say  that  the  king  were  his  servant."  But,  as  Wolsey 
urged  in  his  defence,  this  order  was  required  by  the  Latin  idiom. 

318.  A  large  commission.     "That  is,  a  full-power,  under  the  great  seal, 
of  which  Wolsey  was  the  keeper.     To  grant  letters  plenipotentiary  to 
conclude  a  treaty  of  alliance  belongs  to  the  king  alone,  and  Wolsey,  in 
issuing  a  full-power,  usurped  the  royal  prerogative"  (Adee). 

319.  Gregory  de  Cassaiis.     The  folio  has  " de  Cassado"  which  is  prob- 
ably what  8.  wrote  ;  following  Hall,  whose  words  are :  "  He,  without  the 
king's  assent,  sent  a  commission  to  Sir  Gregory  de  Cassado,  knight,  to 
conclude  a  league  between  the  king  and  the  Duke  of  Ferrara,  without 
the  king's  knowledge." 

323.  Your  holy  hat,  etc.     This  charge  was  made  "rather  with  a  view 
to  swell  the  catalogue  than  from  any  serious  cause  of  accusation,  inas- 
much as  the  Archbishops  Cranmer,  Bainbridge,  and  Warham  were  in- 
dulged with  the  same  privilege"  (Douce). 

324.  Innumerable  substance,  etc.     Untold  treasure,  to  supply  Rome  and 
prepare  the  way  for  dignities  you  seek.     Innumerable  occurs  nowhere  else 
in  S.     Cf.  Holinshed's  "innumerable  treasure"  in  note  on  iv.  2.  34  below. 

327.  The  mere  undoing.    The  utter  ruin.    Cf.  Temp.  p.  ill,  note  on  51. 
331.  'Tis  virtue.     That  is,  'tis  virtue  to  refrain  from  doing  it. 

337.  Legatine.     The  ist  folio  has  "  Legatiue,"  the  2d  and  3d  have 
"  Legantive,"  and  the  4th  has  "  Legantine."     Legatine  is  due  to  Rovve, 
and  is  adopted  by  all  the  editors. 

338.  Prcemunire.     The  word  is  low  Latin  for  prcemonere.     The  writ  is 
so  called  from  the  first  words  of  it,  which  forewarn  the  person  respecting 
the  offence  of  introducing  foreign  authority  into  England, 

341.  Chattels.  The  folio  has  "  Castles"  (not  "  Catties,"  as  W.  states) ; 
corrected  by  Theo.,  who  remarks  :  "  the  judgment  in  a  writ  of  prcemunire 
is,  that  the  defendant  shall  be  out  of  the  king's  protection  :  and  his  lands 
and  tenements,  goods  and  chattels,  forfeited  to  the  king  ;  and  that  his  body 
shall  remain  in  prison  at  the  king's  pleasure."  This  description  of  the 
fr&munire  is  given  by  Holinshed,  who  has  "  cattels"  for  chattels.  These 
forms  were  then  used  indifferently;  "from  which  we  may  infer  that  the 
pronunciation  was  cattels  in  either  case"  (W.). 

349.  Farewell,  a  long  farewell,  etc.  The  punctuation  in  the  folio  is, 
"  Farewell  ?  A  long  farewell  to  all  my  Greatnesse."  Mr.  Jos.  Hunter 
(New  Illust.  of  S.  vol.  ii.  p.  108)  would  retain  this,  explaining  the  line 
thus  :  "  Farewell — did  I  say  farewell  ? — Yes,  it  is  too  surely  so — a  long 
farewell  to  all  my  greatness  !" 

351.  The  tender  leaves  of  hopes.  The  folio  reading,  usually  changed  to 
"  hope."  K.  and  W.  have  hopes,  and  the  latter  remarks  :  "  The  s  may  be 
a  scribe's  or  printer's  superfluity.  But  there  is  an  appreciable,  though  a 
deiicate,  distinction  between  'the  tender  leaves  of  hope'  and  'the  tender 


ACT  III.     SL'EXE  //.  189 

leaves  of  hopes  ;'  and  the  idea  conveyed  to  me  by  the  latter,  of  many 
desires  blooming  into  promise  of  fruition,  is  the  more  beautiful,  and  is 
certainly  less  commonplace." 

Blossoms.  Some  take  the  word  to  be  a  noun  here  (the  folio  prints 
it  with  a  capital,  "  Blossomes"),  l>ut  it  is  undoubtedly  a  verb." 

358.  This  mjny  summers.  Of.  M.for  M.  i.  3.  2 1  :  "  this  nineteen  years," 
etc.  ;  and  see  Gi.  87. 

366.  We  would  aspire  to.     Hanmer  has  "  he"  for  -we. 

367.  That  S7vfft  aspect  of 'princes,  and  their  ruin.     ( )n  the  accent  of  as- 
peit,  see  M.  of  /'.  p.  128,  and  cf.  v.  i.  89  below.      Their  ruin  (altered  by 
some  editors  to  "our  ruin"  or  "his  ruin")    means  the  ruin  which  they 
(princes)  cause,  or  bring  ;  in  other  words,  thtir  is  a  '•''subjective  genitive." 
Similar  cases  are  not  rare  in  S.     We  have  three  examples  in  a  single 
scene  (v.  i)  of  the  Tempest:  "your  release,"  "their  high  wrongs,"  and 
"  my  wrongs."     Cf.  M.  N.  D.  ii.  i.  240  :  "  Your  wrongs  (the  wrongs  done 
by  you)  do  set  a  scandal  on  my  sex,"  etc. 

380.  These  ruin\i pillars.  "  Alluding,  of  course,  to  his  insignia  of  of- 
fice" (Adee).  See  p.  176  above  (on  Pillars}. 

397.  May  have  a  tonib,  etc.  The  folio  reads :  "  May  haue  a  Tombe  of 
Orphants  teares  wept  on  him."  The  lord  chancellor  is  the  general  guar- 
dian of  orphans.  Johnson  considers  the  metaphor  "  very  harsh  ;"  but 
Steevens  compares  Drummoncl's  Teares  for  the  Death  of  Mcelaides : 

"The  Muses,  Phoebus.  Love,  have  raised  of  their  teares 
A  crystal  tomb  to  him,  through  which  his  worth  appeares.1' 

He  also  cites  an  epigram  of  Martial's,  in  which,  he  says,  the  Heliades  are 
represented  as  "  weeping  a  tomb  of  tears  over  a  viper  ;"  but  it  is  not  until 
after  the  amber  tears  of  the  sisters  of  Phaethon  have  hardened  around 
the  reptile  (so  that  he  is  "concreto  vincta  gelu")  that  they  are  compared 
to  a  tomb. 

402.  In  open.  Openly,  in  public.  Steevens  considers  it  a  "Latinism," 
because  in  aperto  is  used  in  the  same  sense  !  It  may  be  noted  that  "  in 
the  open"  is  now  good  English  (in  England,  at  least)  for  "  in  the  open 
air."  Cf.  Gr.  90. 

405.  There  was  the  weight  that  pulled  me  down,  etc.  Cf.  what  Cavendish 
says :  "  Thus  passed  the  cardinal  his  time  forth,  from  day  to  day  and  year 
to  year,  in  such  great  wealth,  joy,  and  triumph  and  glory,  having  always  on 
his  side  the  king's  especial  favour,  until  Fortune,  of  whose  favour  no  man 
is  longer  assured  than  she  is  disposed,  began  to  wax  something  wroth 
with  his  prosperous  estate.  And  for  the  better  mean  to  bring  him  low, 
she  procured  Venus,  the  insatiate  goddess,  to  be  her  instrument ;  who 
brought  the  king  in  love  with  a  gentlewoman  that,  after  she  perceived  and 
felt  the  king's  good  will  towards  her,  how  glad  he  was  to  please  her,  and 
to  grant  all  her  request,  wrought  the  cardinal  much  displeasure.  This 
gentlewoman  was  the  daughter  of  Sir  Thomas  Bullen,  knight,"  etc. 

409.  The  noble  troops  that  "waited,  etc.  The  number  of  persons  who 
composed  Wolsey's  household  was  not  less  than  one  hundred  and  eighty, 
and  some  accounts  (undoubtedly  exaggerated)  make  it  eight  hundred. 
Cf.  Cavendish's  description  of  the  cardinal's  passage  through  London  on 
his  way  to  France  :  "  Then  marched  he  forward,  from  his  own  house  at 


1 9o  NOTES. 

Westminster,  through  all  London,  over  London  Bridge,  having  before 
him  a  great  number  of  gentlemen,  three  in  a  rank,  with  velvet  coats,  and 
the  most  part  of  them  with  great  chains  of  gold  about  their  necks.  And  all 
his  yeomen  followed  him,  with  noblemen's  and  gentlemen's  servants,  all 
in  orange-tawny  coats,  with  the  cardinal's  hat,  and  a  T  and  a  C  (for  Thom- 
as, Cardinal)  embroidered  upon  all  the  coats  as  well  of  his  own  servants 
as  all  the  rest  of  his  gentlemen's  servants.  And  when  his  sumpter  mules, 
which  were  twenty  or  more  in  number,  and  all  his  carriages  and  carts, 
and  other  of  his  train,  were  passed  before,  he  rode  like  a  cardinal,  very 
sumptuously,  with  the  rest  of  his  train,  on  his  own  mule,  with  his  spare 
mule  and  spare  horse — trapped  in  crimson  velvet  upon  velvet,  and  gilt 
stirrups — following  him.  And  before  him  he  had  two  great  crosses  of 
silver,  his  two  great  pillars  [cf.  p.  176  above]  of  silver,  the  king's  broad 
seal  of  England,  and  his  cardinal's  hat,  and  a  gentleman  carrying  his 
valence,  otherwise  called  his  cloak-bag,  which  was  made  of  fine  scarlet, 
altogether  embroidered  very  richly  with  gold,  having  in  it  a  cloak.  Thus 
passed  he  forth  through  London,  as  I  said  before  ;  and  every  day  on  his 
journey  he  was  thus  furnished,  having  his  harbingers  in  every  place  be- 
fore, which  prepared  lodging  for  him  and  his  train." 

418.  Make  use  now.  Make  interest  now,  "let  not  advantage  slip" 
(Schmidt).  Cf.  T.  G.  of  V.  ii.  4.  68  :  "  Made  use  and  fair  advantage  of 
his  days,"  etc. 

428.  Out  of  thy  honest  tmth*     See  Gr.  168. 

431.  Dull,  cold  marble.     Cf.  Gray,  Elegy :  "  the  dull  cold  ear  of  death." 

432.  Must  be  heard  of.     For  the  repeated  preposition,  see  Gr.  424. 
441.  Cherish  those  hearts  that  liate  thec.     Warb.  thought  that  the  poet 

did  not  mean  to  make  Wolsey  so  good  a  Christian  as  this  would  imply, 
and  that  he  probably  wrote  "cherish  those  hearts  that  «w;/thee,"  that  is, 
thy  dependants  ! 

443.  Still  in  thy  right  hand"  etc.  Some  see  an  allusion  here  to  "  the 
rod  of  silver  with  the  dove,"  or  "  bird  of  peace,"  carried  at  royal  proces- 
sions. See  below  (v.  i)  in  the  Order  of  the  Procession,  and  also  in  the 
account  of  the  coronation  that  follows. 

453.  Had  I  but  served  my  God,  etc.  It  is  an  historical  fact  that,  among 
his  last  words  to  Sir  William  Kingston,  the  cardinal  said,  "If  I  had 
served  God  as  diligently  as  I  have  done  the  king,  he  would  not  have 
given  me  over  in  my  gray  hairs.  But  this  is  the  just  reward  that  I 
must  receive  for  my  diligent  pains  and  study  that  I  have  had  to  do  him 
service,  not  regarding  my  service  to  God,  but  only  to  satisfy  his  pleas- 
ure." 

*  Cromwell  remained  with  Wolsey  during  his  confinement  at  Esher,  and  obtained  a 
seat  in  Parliament  that  he  might  defend  him  there.  The  Lords  passed  a  bill  of  im- 
peachment against  the  cardinal,  but  Cromwell  opposed  it  in  the  Commons  with  such 
skill  and  eloquence  that  he  finally  defeated  it.  "  At  the  length,"  says  Cavendish,  "  his  hon- 
est estimation  and  earnest  behaviour  in  his  master's  cause,  grew  so  in  every  man's  opinion, 
that  he  was  reputed  the  most  faithful  servant  to  his  master  of  all  other,  wherein  he  was 
greatly  of  all  men  commended." 


ACT  IV.     SCENE  1. 


igr 


ANNE    BULLEN. 

ACT  IV. 

SCENE  T. — The  ceremonies  attending  the  coronation  of  Anne  Bullen 
are  minutely  described  by  Mall,  from  whom  S.  drew  the  materials  for  this 
scene,  including  the  "  Order  of  the  Procession."  Sir  Thomas  More  was 
the  chancellor  on  this  occasion. 

9.  Their  royal  minds.  "  Their  devotion  to  the  king"  (Schmidt).  Cf. 
2  Hen.  IV.  iv.  i.  193  :  "  our  royal  faiths"  (fidelity  to  the  king).  Pope  and 
H.  read  "loyal  minds." 

13.  Better  taken.     Better  received,  more  heartily  welcomed. 

1 6.  Of  those  that  claim  their  offices,  etc.  Holinshed  says:  "In  the  be- 
ginning of  May,  1533,  the  king  caused  open  proclamation  to  be  made,  that 
all  men  that  claimed  to  do  any  service,  or  execute  any  office,  at  the  sol- 
emn feast  of  the  coronation,  by  the  way  of  tenure,  grant,  or  prescription, 
should  put  their  grant,  three  weeks  after  Easter,  in  the  Star-Chamber, 
before  Charles,  Duke  of  Suffolk,  for  that  time  high  steward  of  England, 
and  the  lord  chancellor,  and  other  commissioners." 

28.  Dunstable.  The  court  was  held  at  Dunstable  Priory,  which  was  a 
royal  foundation  of  Hrnry  I.,  who  in  1131  bestowed  on  it  the  town  of 
Dunstable  and  all  its  privileges.  Ampthill  Castle,  built  in  the  fifteenth 


192 


NOTES. 


century,  was  one  of  the  favourite  resorts  of  Henry  VIII.  It  was  demol- 
ished about  the  year  1626.  After  many  changes  of  proprietorship,  the 
estate  came  into  the  possession  of  Lord  Ossory,  who  planted  a  grove 
of  firs  where  the  castle  had  stood,  and  in  1773  erected  in  the  centre  a 
monument,  surmounted  by  a  cross  bearing  a  shield  with  Katherine's 
arms,  of  Castile  and  Arragon.  A  tablet  at  the  base  of  the  cross  bears 
the  following  inscription,  from  the  pen  of  Horace  Walpole  : 

"  In  days  of  yore,  here  Ampthill's  towers  were  seen, 
The  mournful  refuge  of  an  injur'd  queen ; 
Here  flow'd  her  pure  but  unavailing  tears, 
Here  blinded  zeal  sustain'd  her  sinking  years. 
Yet  Freedom  hence  her  radiant  banner  wav?d, 
And  Love  aveng'd  a  realm  by  priests  enslav'd ; 
From  Catherine's  wrongs  a  nation's  bliss  was  spread, 
And  Luther's  light  from  lawless  Henry's  bed.'' 

29.  Lay.  That  is,  resided.  Cf.  T.  N.  iii.  1.8:  "So  thou  mayst  say, 
trie  king  lies  by  a  beggar,  if  a  beggar  dwell  near  him  ;"  M.  W.  ii.  2.63  : 
"When  the  court  lay  at  Windsor;"  Milton,  IS  Allegro:  "Where  per- 
haps some  beauty  lies,"  etc.  See  also  2  Hen.  IV.  p.  185. 

32.  Main  assent.  General  assent.  Cf.  Ham.  i.  3.  28  :  "  the  main  voice 
of  Denmark,"  etc. 

34.  The  late  marriage.     "The  marriage  lately  considered  as  a  valid 
one"  (Steevens)  ;  or  simply  the  previous  marriage. 

35.  Kimbolton.     The  folio  has  "  Kymmalton,"  which  was  doubtless  the 
pronunciation  of  the  name.     Kimbolton  Castle,  in  Huntingdonshire,  suc- 
cessively the  property  of  the  Bohuns,  the  Staffords,  and  the  Wingfields,  is 
now  the  seat  of  the  Duke  of  Manchester.     From  an  interesting  account 
of  the  place  in  the  Athenceum  (Jan.  1861),  I  extract  a  paragraph  or  two  : 

"Kimbolton  is  perhaps  the  only  house  now  left  in  England  in  which 
you  still  live  and  move,  distinguished  as  the  scene  of  an  act  in  one  of 
Shakespeare's  plays.  Where  now  is  the  royal  palace  of  Northampton  ? 
Where  the  baronial  hall  of  Warkworth  ?  .  .  .  The  Tower  has  become  a 
barrack,  and  Bridewell  a  jail.  .  .  .  Westminster  Abbey,  indeed,  remains 
much  as  when  Shakespeare  opened  the  great  contention  of  York  and 
Lancaster  with  the  dead  hero  of  Agincourt  lying  there  in  state  ;  and  the 
Temple  Gardens  have  much  the  same  shape  as  when  he  made  Plantagenet 
pluck  the  white  rose,  Somerset  the  red  ;  but  for  a  genuine  Shakespearian 
house,  in  which  men  still  live  and  move,  still  dress  and  dine,  to  which 
guests  come  and  go,  in  which  children  frisk  and  sport,  where  shall  we  look 
beyond  the  walls  of  Kimbolton  Castle? 

"  Of  this  Shakespearian  pile  Queen  Katherine  is  the  glory  and  the  fear. 
The  chest  in  which  she  kept  her  clothes  and  jewels,  her  own  cipher  on  the 
lid,  still  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  grand  staircase,  in  the  gallery  leading  to  the 
seat  she  occupied  in  the  private  chapel.  Her  spirit,  the  people  of  the 
castle  say,  still  haunts  the  rooms  and  corridors  in  the  dull  gloaming  or  at 
silent  midnight.  .  .  .  Mere  dreams,  no  doubt ;  but  people  here  believe 
them.  They  say  the  ghost  glides  about  after  dark,  robed  in  her  long 
white  dress,  and  with  the  royal  crown  upon  her  head,  through  the  great 
hall,  and  along  the  corridor  to  the  private  chapel,  or  up  the  grand  stair- 
case, past  the  Pellegrini  cartoons." 


ACT  IV.     SCENE   If.  ,93 

37.  The  Order  of  the  Procession.  Called  in  the  folio  "The  Order  of 
the  Coronation  ;"  but  it  is  only  the  procession  on  the  return  from  the  coro- 
nation. W.  .remarks:  "This  elaborate  direction  is  of  no  service  to  the 
action,  and  was  plainly  intended  only  for  the  prompter  and  property-man 
'of  the  theatre,  that  in  getting  up  this  show  play  they  might  have  exact  di- 
rections about  putting  this  Scene  on  the  stage.  But  as  it  doubtless  gives 
us  a  very  exact  measure  of  the  capacity  of  our  old  theatre  to  present  a 
spectacle,  it  should  be  retained."  The  direction  for  the  exit  of  the  pro- 
cession follows  the  "Order"  in  these  words:  "Exeunt,  first  passing  otter 
the  Stage  in  Order  and  Stat<\  and  f/icn,  A  great  flourish,  of  Trumpets?' 

Then  Garter.  Garter  king-at-arms,  in  his  coat  of  office  emblazoned 
with  the  royal  arms.  See  Addenda  below. 

( 'ollars  ofSS.  The  folio  has  "  Esses."  "  A  collar  of  SS,  probably  so 
called  from  the  S-shaped  links  of  the  chain-work,  was  a  badge  of  eques- 
trian nobility." 

Four  of  the  Cinqne-ports.  These  ports,  in  the  south  of  England,  were 
originallyyft/*?  (hence  the  name) — Dover,  Hastings,  Hythe,  Romney,  and 
Sandwich  :  Winchelsea  and  Rye  were  afterwards  added.  They  were 
under  the  jurisdiction  of  barons,  called  wardens,  for  the  better  security  of 
the  coast,  these  ports  being  nearest  to  France,  and  considered  the  keys 
of  the  kingdom.  The  office  was  instituted  by  William  the  Conqueror  in 
1078.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  was  lord-warden  from  1828  to  his  death 
in  1852  (cf.  Longfellow's  poem,  "The  Warden  of  the  Cinque  Ports"). 

Her  hntr  richly  adorned.  The  folio  has  "  / n  her  haire"  etc.  ;  an  error 
probably  occasioned  by  "in  her  robe"  immediately  preceding. 

On  each  side  her.     Cf.  L.  L.  L.  v.  2.  8  :  "  writ  o'  both  sides  the  leaf,"  etc. 

49.  All  are  near.     All  who  are  near.     Gr.  244. 

55.  /'  the  abbey.         That  is,  Westminster  Abbey. 

57.  The  mere  rankness.    The  very  exuberance.    Cf.  iii.  2.  327  above. 

89.  The  choicest  music.     The  best  musicians.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  162. 

90.  Parted.     Departed.     See  on  iii.  I.  97  above. 

100.  Newly  preferred.     Just  promoted.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  140. 
in.  Without  all  doubt.     Beyond  all  doubt.     See  Macb.  p.  210  (on  11). 
1 14.  Something  I  can  command.     That  is,  I  can  do  something  for  your 
entertainment. 

SCENE  II.— 6.  Great  child  of  honour.     Cf.  50  below. 

7.  I  think.     The  ist  folio  has  "  I  thanke  ;"  corrected  in  the  2d. 

10.  Happily.     Haply  ;  as  often  in  S.     See  Gr.  42.     . 

12.  The  stout  earl  Northumberland.     See  p.  34,  foot-note. 

13.  At  York.     Wolsey  had  removed  to  his  see  of  York,  by  the  king's 
command,  and  had  taken  up  his  residence  at  Cawood  Castle  (ten  miles 
from  the  city),  which  belonged  to  the  Archbishops  of  York.     There  he 
rendered  himself  extremely  popular  in  the  neighbourhood  by  his  affabil- 
ity and  hospitality. 

17.  With  easy  roads.  "The  king,"  said  Cavendish  to  Wolsey,  "hath 
sent  gentle  Master  Kingston  to  convey  yon  by  such  easy  journeys  as  you 
will  command  him  to  do."  On  with,  see  Gr.  193. 

To  Leicester.  "  The  next  day,"  says  Cavendish,  "  we  rode  to  Leicester 

N 


194 


NOTES. 


---,:     \ 


YORK   CATHEDRAL. 


Abbey;  and  by  the  way  he  \vaxed  so  sick  that  he  was  divers  times  likely 
to  have  fallen  from  his  mule ;  and  being  night  before  we  came  to  the 
Abbey  of  Leicester,  where  at  his  coming  in  at  the  gates,  the  abbot  of  the 
place,  with  all  his  convent,  met  him  with  the  light  of  many  torches ;  whom 


LEICB&TER    A 


ACT  //'.     .SVA-.VA1    //.  195 

they  right  honourably  received  with  great  reverence.  To  whom  my 
lord  said,  '  Father  aboot,  I  am  come  hither  to  leave  my  bones  among 
you.1  " 

Leicester  Abbey  w.is  founded  in  the  year  1143,  in  the  reign  of  King 
Stephen,  by  Robert  Bossu,  K.iri  of  Leicester,  and  was  dedicated  to  the 
Virgin  Mary.  It  is  situated  in  a  pleasant  meadow  to  the  north  of  the 
town,  watered  by  the  River  Soar,  whence  it  acquired  the  name  of  St.  Mary 
>if  /'/ ,///..-,  or  Je'Ui  / ';>•'. 

The  remains  of  \\olsey  were  interred  in  the  abbey  church,  and  were 
attended  to  the  grave  by  the  abbot  and  all  his  brethren.  This  last  cere- 
mony was  performed  by  torchlight,  the  canons  singing  dirges  and  offer- 
ing orisons,  between  four  and  five  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  St.  Andrew's 
Day,  November  301!!,  1530.  There  is  a  traditional  story  that  the  stone 
coffin  in  which  the  remains  were  placed  was,  after  its  disinterment,  used 
as  a  horse-trough  at  an  inn  near  Leicester. 

19.  With  all  his  covent.  The  folio  has  "  his  Couent ;"  and  in  M.for  M. 
iv.  3.  133,  "  One  of  our  Couent."  I).,  who  gives  covent  in  both  passages, 
remarks  that  this  is  a  very  old  form  of  convent.  He  quotes  a  ballad,  A 
Lytell  Geste  of  Kobyn  Hode : 

"The  abbot  sayd  to  his  covent, 

There  he  stode  on  grounde,"  etc. 

He  might  have  added  that  we  still  have  the  old  fqrm  in  "  Covent  Garden" 
(in  London),  which  was  originally  the  garden  of  the  convent  at  Westmin- 
ster. 

32.  Speak  him.     Speak  of  him.     Cf.  ii.  4.  139  and  iii.  I.  125  above. 

34.  stomach.     Pride,  or  arrogance.     See  Temp.  p.  1 1 5. 

In  this  character  of  Wolsey  the  poet  fallows  Holinshed  very  closely  : 
"This  cardinal  (as  you  may  perceive  in  this  story)  was  of  a  great  stom- 
ach, for  he  counted  himself  equal  with  princes,  and  by  crafty  suggestion 
gat  into  his  hands  innumerable  treasure:  he  forced*  little  on  simony, 
and  was  not  pitiful,  and  stood  affectionate  in  his  own  opinion:  in  open 
presence  he  would  lie  and  say  untruth,  and  was  double  both  in  speech 
and  meaning:  he  would  promise  much  and  perform  little  ;  he  was  vicious 
of  his  body,  and  gave  the  clergy  evil  example." 

35.  By  suggestion  Tit fi  d  all  the  kingdom.     The  folio  has  "Ty'deall  the 
Kingdome."    As  the  clause  is  the  counterpart  of  Holinshed's  "  by  crafty 
suggestion  gat  into  his  hands  innumerable  treasure,"  it  is  probable  that 
,"  ty'de"  is  a  misprint  for  "  ty'thde."     Hanmer  was  the  first  to  make  the 
correction,  and  is  followed  by  Sr.,  D.,  W.,  and  H.     K.  retains  "tied;" 
but  he  has  "no  doubt  that  the  allusion  is  to  the  acquisition  of  wealth  by 
the  cardinal."     "  By  suggestion  tied  all  the  kingdom"  is  explained  as 
meaning  "by  craft  limited,  or  infringed  the  liberties  of  the  kingdom." 

37.  /'  the  presence.     In  the  royal  presence. 

45.  J/i?;;'j  evil  manners,  etc.     Cf.  J.  C.  iii.  2.  80 : 

''The  evil  that  men  do  lives  after  them; 
The  good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones." 

*  Hesitated,  or  had  scruples.     Cf.  L.  L.  L.  \.  2.  440:   "  You  force  not  to  forswear.*' 


196  NOTES. 

Reed  quotes  here  Whitney's  Emblemes  (1586)  : 

"  Scribit  in  mar  more  /tesus. 
In  marble  harde  our  harmes  wee  always  grave, 
Because,  we  still  will  beare  the  same  in  minde: 
In  duste  wee  write  the  benefittes  we  have. 
Where  they  are  soone  defaced  with  the  winde,"  etc. 

48.  This  cardinal,  etc.  This  speech  also  follows  Holinshed :  "  This 
cardinal  (as  Edmund  Campian,  in  his  history  of  Ireland,  describeth  him) 
was  a  man  undoubtedly  born  to  honour  :  I  think  (saith  he)  some  prince's 
bastard,  no  butcher's  son,  exceeding  wise,  fair  spoken,  high  minded,  full 
of  revenge,  vicious  of  his  body ;  lofty  to  his  enemies,  were  they  never  so 
big,  to  those  that  accepted  and  sought  his  friendship  wonderful  courteous ; 
a  ripe  schoolman,  thrall  to  affections,  brought  a-bed  with  flattery;  in- 
satiable to  get,  and  more  princely  in  bestowing  ;  as  appeareth  by  his  two 
colleges  at  Ipswich  and  Oxenford,  the  one  overthrown  with  his  fall,  the 
other  unfinished,  and  yet,  as  it  lieth,  for  an  house  of  students  incomparable 
throughout  Christendom.  ...  A  great  preferrer  of  his  servants,  an  ad- 
vancer of  learning,  stout  in  every  quarrel,  never  happy  till  his  overthrow  ; 
wherein  he  showed  such  moderation,  and  ended  so  perfectly,  that  the 
hour  of  his  death  did  him  more  honour  than  all  the  pomp  of  his  life 
passed." 

50.   Was  fashion*1  d  to  much  honour,  etc.     The  folio  points  thus  : 

"Was  fashion' d  to  much  Honor.     From  his  Cradle 
He  was  a  Soholler,  and  a  ripe,  and  good  one,"  etc. 


52.  Exceeding.     For  the  adverbial  use,  see  M.c/J^.p.  128. 

59.  Oxford.     It  was  Christ  Church  College  that  Wolsey  founded. 

60.  The  good  that  did  it.     "  The  goodness  that  founded  it."     Pope  read 
"the  good  he  did  it;"  the  Coll.  MS.,  "the  good  man  that  did  it;"  St. 
has  "the  good  that  rear'd  it."     K.,  D.,  W.,  and  H.  follow  the  folio. 

74.  Modesty.     Moderation.     Cf.  v.  3.  64  below. 

78.  Cause  the  musicians  play.      See  Gr.  349  and  cf.  128  below. 

82  (stage-direction).  Solemnly  tripping.  "  Trip  signified  a  dancing 
kind  of  motion,  either  light  or  serious"  (Keightley). 

Vizards.  Visors,  masks.  Cf.  M.  W.  iv.  4.  70 :  "  I  '11  go  buy  them 
vizards  ;"  Macb.  iii.  2.  34  :  "  make  our  faces  vizards  to  our  hearts."  We 
find  also  vizarded,  as  in  M.  W.  iv. 6.  40:  "masked  and  vizarded." 

94.  Bid  the  music  leave.     See  on  iv.  I.  89  above. 

98.  An  earthy  cold.  Rowe  has  "earthly;"  Sr.,  Walker,  D.,  and  H., 
"earthy  colour  ;"  the  Coll.  MS.,  "earthy  coldness." 

101.  Deserve  we  no  more  reverence?  On  Katherine's  refusal  to  give 
up  the  title  of  queen,  see  pp.  31,  34  above. 

no.  Capucius.     The  Latin  form  of  Chapuys.      See  p.  35  above. 

127.   That  letter.     The  one  given  on  page  35  above. 

132.  Model.     Image,  representative.     Cf.  Rich.  II.  i.  2.  28  : 

"  In  that  thou  seest  thy  wretched  brother  die, 
Who  was  the  model  of  thy  father's  life." 

See  also  Ham.  v.  2.  50,  Per.  ii.  2.  II,  etc. 

146.  Let  him  be  a  noble.  Even  though  he  should  be  a  nobleman. 
Some  editors  put  a  semicolon  after  husband. 


ACT  I'.    SCKNE  f. 


148.  The  poorest.     Very  poor.     See  Gr.  8  (cf.  92). 
rs.     Cf.  Han 


197 


169.  Maiden  flowers.     Cf.  Ham.  v.  I.  256:   "maiden  strewments  ;"  and 
see  our  ed.  p.  265. 

173.  /  can  no  more.     See  Ham.  p.  233,  or  Gr.  307. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I. — 2.  Hours,     A  dissyllable.     See  on  ii.  3. 36  above. 

7.  At  primero.  A  game  at  cards,  very  fashionable  in  that  day.  Cf. 
M.  IV.  iv.  5.  104:  "  I  never  prospered  since  I  forswore  myself  at  prime- 
ro." Some  of  the  technicalities  of  the  game,  as  given  in  Minsheu's 
Dialogues  in  Spanish  and  English  (quoted  by  I).),  were  very  similar  to 
those  in  certain  games  now  in  vogue  ;  as  "  Passe,"  "  I  am  come  to  passe 
againe,"  "  He  see  it,"  "  I  am  flush,"  etc. 

13.  Sew?  (each  of  your  late  business.  "  Some  hint  of  the  business  that 
keeps  you  awake  so  late"  (Johnson). 

19.  /;/  great  extremity,  and  feared.     On  the  ellipsis,  see  Gr.  403. 

28.  Mine  own  wny.     "  Mine  own  opinion  in  religion"  (Johnson). 

34., /f  made  master,  etc.  The  folio  reading,  altered  by  Theo.  to  "he  's 
made  master."  For  the  ellipsis,  see  Gr.  400. 

36.  The  gap  and  trade,  etc.     "  Trade  is  the  practised  method,  the  gen- 
eral course'''  (Johnson).     Steevens  compares  Rich.  II.  iii.  3.  156:  "Some 
way  of  common  trade."     The  word  has  no  connection  with  the  very  rare 
trade  =  tread,  used  by  Spenser  in  F.  Q.  ii.  6.  39  :  "some  salvage  beastes 
trade." 

37.  Time.     The  first  three  folios  have  "Lime;"  corrected  in  the  4th 
folio. 

42.  I  may  tell  it  you,  etc.     The  pointing  is  Dyce's.     The  folio  has 

"and  indeed  this  day, 
Sir  (I  may  tell  it  you)  I  think  I  haue 
Incenst  the  Lords  o'  th'  Councell,'' etc. 

43.  Incensed.     According  to  Nares,  incense  (or  insense)  means  "to  in- 
struct, inform;    a  provincial  expression  still  quite  current  in  Stafford 
shire,  and  probably  Warwickshire,  whence  we  may  suppose  S.  had  it." 
Cf.  Much  Ado,  p.  166.     This  interpretation  is  adopted  by  V.,  W.,  and  H. 
K.  prints  "insensed,"  without  comment. 

46.  With  which  they  moifd.     And  they,  being  moved  (incited,  influ- 
enced) by  this. 

47.  Have  broken  with  the  king.    That  is,  have  communicated  with,  have 
broached  the  subject  to  him.     Cf.  T.  G.of  V.  iii.  I.  59 :  "I  am  to  break 
with  thee  of  some  affairs;"  Much  Ado,\.  1.311:   "I  will  break  with  her" 
(see  our  ed.  p.  125),  etc. 

52.  Converted.  Summoned.  Cf.  M.for  M.  v.  i.  158:  "Whensoever 
he  's  convented  ;"  Cor.  ii.  2.  58 :  "  We  are  commented  Upon  a  pleasing 
treaty." 

67.  Is  she  crying  out  ?     Is  she  in  labour  ? 

68.  Sufferance.     See  on  ii.  3.  15  above. 

74.  Estate.     State.     See  on  ii.  2.  68  above. 

79.  Enter  Sir  Anthony  Denny.     Denny  was  one  of  the  companions  of 


198  NOTES. 

Henry's  younger  days,  knighted  about  the  year  1541,  and  made  one  of 
the  privy  council. 

84.  The  bishop  spake.     That  is,  spake  about.     See  on  i.  I.  197  above. 

85.  Happily.     Luckily  ;  as  in  v.  2.  9  below. 

86.  Avoid  the  gallery!   Clear  the  gallery.     See  Temp.  p.  137. 

1 02.  With  such  freedom  purge  yourself.     Clear  yourself  so  completely 

106.  You  a  brother  of  us.  "  You  being  one  of  the  council,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  imprison  you,  that  the  witnesses  against  you  may  not  be  deterred' 
(Johnson).  Cf.  v.  3.  49  below  :  "  you  are  a  counsellor,"  etc. 

HO.   Throughly.     Thoroughly.     See  M.  of  /*.  p.  144,  on  Throughfares. 

116.  By  my  halidom.  A  common  oath  in  that  day.  Cf.  T.  G.ofV.  iv. 
2.  136.  The  word  is  probably  from  the  A.  S.  halig.  holy,  and  the  suffix 
dom  (as  in  freedom,  kingdom,  etc. ),  and  means  "  holiness,"  or  "sacred 
oath"  (Wb.).  The  folio  has  "  Holydame,"  and  Rowe  reads  "  holy  Dame" 
(cf.  154  below). 

According  to  Fox,  Henry  said,  "Oh  Lorde.  what  maner  o'  man  be 
you?  What  simplicitie  is  in  you?  I  had  thought  that  you  would  rather 
have  sued  to  us  to  have  taken  the  paines  to  have  heard  you  and  your  ac- 
cusers together  for  your  triall,  without  any  such  indurance." 

121.  Indurance.     Being  put  in  durance  ;   imprisonment.     S.  us^s  the 
word  only  here,  taking  it  from  Fox.     Schmidt  makes  it  —  endurance. 

122.  The  good  I  stand  on.     The  advantage,  or  merit,  in  which  I  trust. 
Johnson  conjectured  "The  ground  I  stand  on,"  which  W.  adopts. 

124.  I  weigh  not.     I  value  not.     Cf.  L.  L.  L.  v.  2.  27  :  "You  weigh  me 
not  ?     O  that 's,  you  care  not  for  me." 

125.  I  fear  nothing.     Here  nothing  is  an  adverb.     Gr.  55. 

126.  Know  you  not,  etc.     Cf.  Fox  :  "  Do  you  not  know  what  state  you 
be  in  with  the  whole  world,  and  how  many  great  enemies  you  have  ?    Do 
you  not  consider  what  an  easie  thing  it  is  to  procure  three  or  foure  false 
knaves  to  witness  against  you  ?     Thinke  you  to  have  better  lucke  that 
waie  than  your  master  Christ  had  ?     I  see  by  it  you  will  run  headlong  to 
your  undoing,  if  I  would  suffer  you,"  etc. 

128.  Practices.     Artifices,  machinations.     See  on  i.  I.  204  above. 

129.  Not  e^>er.     That  is,  not  always  ;  it  is  not  equivalent  to  never. 
132.  Corrupt  minds,  etc.     Corrupt  is  here  accented  on  the  first  syllable 

because  coming  before  the  noun.     Cf.  Cor.  p.  268,  on  Supreme. 

135.  Ween.     Think,  imagine.     Cf.  i  Hen.  VI.  ii.  5.  88:   "weening  to 
redeem."     The  instance  in  the  text  is  omitted  by  Mrs.  Clarke. 

136.  Witness.    Testimony.     D.  prints  it  "  witness*,"  as  if="  witnesses." 
See  Gr.  471,  and  Temp.  p.  1 16,  note  on  172. 

138.  Naughty.     Wicked.     See  M.  ofV.  p.  152. 

139.  A  precipice.     The  1st  folio  has  "a  Precepit,"  and  in  the  next  line 
"woe"  for  woo ;  both  corrected  in  2d  folio. 

157.  Enter  an  old  Lady.     "It  is  painful  to  think  that  Steevens  was 
probably  correct  in  his  irreverent  supposition  that  'this  is  the  same  old 
cat  that  appears  with  Anne  Bullen'  in  a  previous  Scene"  (W.). 
159.  Now,goo<i  angels,  etc.     Cf.  Hani.  iii.  4.  103  : 

"Save  me,  and  hover  o'er  me  with  your  wings, 
You  heavenly  guards  1" 


ACT  l\     SCENES  //.  AND  III. 


199 


164.  And  of  a  lovely  hm\  etc.  "The  humour  of  the  passage  consists  in 
the  talkative  old  lady,  who  had  in  her  hurry  said  it  was  a  boy,  adding 
•  hle>s  //./  •'  he  to  if  .-he  corrects  licr  mistake"  ^  I'.n.-well). 

167.  Desires  your  visitation,  etc.  1  U-.-iio  you  to  visit  her  and  to  be  ac- 
quainted, etc.  n".  ('11.356.  On  •visitation,  cf.  i.  I.  179  above. 

M.   11.— -7.  Enter  Doctor  Butts.      "Sir   \Yilliam    Butts,  principal 
physician  to  Henry  VIII.,  and  one  of  the  tomuUis  of  the  College  of 
Physicians,  was  a  man  of  great  learning  and  judgment"  (J.  II.). 
i  :;.  Souna  not.     That  is"  proclaim  not     Cf.  K.  John,  iv.  2.  48  : 

"Then   I.  as  one  that  am  the  tongue  of  these, 
To  sound  the  purposes  ol"  all  their  hearts,"  etc. 

15.  /  never  sought  their  trial  ice.     I  never  gave  occasion  for  their  malice. 

17.  Wait  else.     For  the  transposition,  see  Gr.  420. 

19.  Enter  the  A7//;-  and  Butts  at  a  window  above.  "  In  America  we  are 
not  without  some  examples  of  old  houses  in  which  large  rooms  are  com- 
manded by  windows  opening  into  them  from  passage-ways  or  small  ad- 
jacent apartments.  But  of  old  it  was  quite  common  in  England  to  have 
such  windows  in  the  large  rooms  of  manor-halls,  castles,  and  palaces,  es- 
pecially in  the  kitchen  and  the  dining-room,  or  banqueting-hall.  From 
these  apertures  the  mistress  of  the  mansion  could  overlook  the  move- 
ments of  her  servants,  either  with  or  without  their  knowledge,  and  direct 
them  without  the  trouble  and  unpleasantness  of  mingling  with  them. 
Instead  of  a  window,  there  was  very  often  a  door  opening  upon  a  small 
gallery  or  platform,  not  unlike  those  in  which  the  musicians  are  placed 
in  some  assembly  rooms.  Such  a  gallery,  too,  was  part  of  the  stage  ar- 
rangement of  Shakespeare's  day"  (W.). 

28.  They  had  parted,  etc.  "  They  had  shared ;  that  is,  had  so  much 
honesty  among  them"  (Steevens). 

SCENE  III. —  The  Council-chamber.  "Theobald,  the  first  regulator  of 
Shakespeare's  plays,  should  have  begun  a  new  scene  here,  although  the 
stage-direction  in  the  folio  is  only  'A  Comtcell  Table  brought  in  with 
Chayres  and  Stooles,  and  placed  vnder  the  State?  etc.  But  this  is  plainly 
the  mere  result  of  the  absence  of  scenery  of  any  kind  on  Shakespeare's 
stage,  and  the  audience  were  to  imagine  that  the  scene  changed  from 
the  lobby  before  the  Council-chamber  to  that  apartment  itself.  For  it 
will  be  observed  that  Crainncr,  entering  the  former,  finds  the  doors  of 
the  latter  shut  ('all  fast')  against  him:  he  is  bidden  to  enter,  and  the 
king  and  Dr.  Butts  afterward  do  enter  the  Council -chamber,  according 
to  the  direction  of  the  folio.  It  is  true  that  the  Door-keeper  appears  in 
both  scenes  ;  but  in  the  former  he  is  within,  in  the  latter  he  is  summoned 
from  without.  This  must  be  regarded,  of  course,  in  the  performance  of 
the  play  before  a  modern  audience;  but  as  the  scene  has  remained  un- 
divided until  the  present  day,  except  by  those  early  editors  who  followed 
the  French  custom  of  making  a  new  scene  at  every  important  entrance  or 
exit,  a  rectification  of  the  slight  want  of  conformity  to  mere  externa*  truth 
would  not  compensate  for  the  inconvenience  to  those  who  refer  to  the 
play  consequent  upon  a  disturbance  of  the  old  arrangement"  (W.)- 


200  NOTES. 

Enter  the  Lord  Chancellor.  On  the  29th  of  November,  1 529,  Sir  Thomas 
More  received  the  great  sea),  surrendered  by  Wolsey  on  the  i8th  of  the 
same  month.  As  he  in  turn  surrendered  it  on  the  i6th  of  May,  1532, 
which  was  before  the  date  of  this  scene  as  fixed  by  the  mention  of  the 
birth  of  Elizabeth  (September  yth,  1533),  Theo.  argues  that  Sir  Thomas 
Audley,  More's  successor,  must  be  the  chancellor  meant  here.  He  was, 
however  (as  Malone  remarks),  lord  keeper  at  this  time,  and  did  not  obtain 
the  title  of  Chancellor  until  the  January  after  the  birth  of  Elizabeth.  For 
the  purposes  of  the  drama,  it  would  be  better  to  consider  More  as  the 
chancellor  here,  his  appointment  to  the  office  having  been  mentioned  in 
the  preceding  act;  but  as  a  matter  of  history,  Audley  held  the  great  seal 
in  1543,  when  Cranmer  was  accused  of  heresy.  As  has  been  stated  above 
(p.  15),  S.  here  brings  into  one  scene  events  separated  by  an  interval  of 
at  least  ten  years. 

9.  At  this  present.  Now  used  only  in  the  language  of  the  law.  Cf. 
W.  T.  \.  2. 192,  etc.  We  find  also  "  for  this  present,"  in  J.  C.  i.  2.  165  ; 
"on  the  present,"  in  T.  of  A.  \.  I.  141  ;  "in  present,"  in  T.  and  C.  iii.  2. 


100,  etc.     Bacon  uses  "at  that  present"  in  his  Hen.  VII. 


reading.     Pope  reads  "and  capable  Of  frailty;"  Malone,  "  In  our  own 

t-*Qf-iit*^c  frail     in^arial^l*^  •    Of  /\nr  fl*»t:!-»     four  11- *»  i r»r*-c»l^  .  "     AjT-io^-kt-i     *<  f»- oil    ****A 


natures  frail,  incapable  ;  Of  our  flesh,  few  are  angels  ;"  Mason,  "  frail  and 
culpable,"  with  Malone's  pointing ;  the  Coll.  MS.,  "culpable  Of  our  flesh." 

22.  Pace  ''em  not  in  their  hands.     Do  not  lead  them  about. 

24.  Manage.    Often  used  of  the  training  of  horses.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  153. 

30.  The  upper  Germany.  "  Alluding  to  the  heresy  of  Thomas  Miinzer, 
which  sprung  up  in  Saxony  in  the  years  1521  and  1522"  (Grey). 

38.  A  single  heart.     A  heart  free  from  duplicity.     Cf.  Acts.  ii.  46. 

39.  Stirs  against.     Bestirs  himself,  or  is  active  against.     The  Coll.  MS. 
has  "strives  against;"    but  cl.Rich.il.  \.  2.3:    "To  stir  against  the 
butchers  of  his  life." 

41.  A  public  peace.     Rowe,  D.,  and  H.  read  "the  public  peace." 
43.  Men  that  make,  etc.     Cf.  iii.  2.  240  above. 

47.  Be  what  they  will.  Whoever  they  may  be.  Gr.  254,  400.  Cf. 
Lear,  v.  3.  98  : 

"What  in  the  world  he  is 
That  names  me  traitor,  villain-like  he  lies." 

5O%  By  that  virtue.     By  virtue  of  that  office. 

60.  /  shall  both  find.     On  the  transposition,  see  Gr.  420. 

64.  Modesty.    Explained  by  the  preceding  meekness.    Cf.  iv.  2.  74  above. 

66.  Lay  all  thewei^ht,  etc.     Whatever  may  be  the  weight,  etc. 

71.  Your  painted  gloss,  etc.  "Those  that  understand  you,  under  this 
painted  gloss,  this  fair  outside,  discover  your  empty  talk  and  your  false 
reasoning"  (Johnson). 

85.  This  is  too  much.  The  folio  gives  this  speech  to  the  chamberlain, 
:ind  also  the  ones  beginning  at  87  and  107  below.  The  misprint  of 
"Chum.  '  for  "Chan."  is  easily  made.  "This  is  the  king's  ring"  (102) 


ACT  I'.     SCEA'E   III.  201 

probably  belongs  to  the  chamberlain,  who  appears  to  speak  only  this 
once  during  the  scene. 

109.  My  mind  <vrr  me.     I  suspected.     ( '(.  Cor.  p.  256. 

124.  Such  Jiattcrv  now.     Pope  (followed  by  D.)  reads  "flatteries;"  but 
th?v  in  the  next  line  may  refer  to  c<>mtHtitotatutHS. 

125.  /'///;/  ana  bate.     The  folio  has  "  thin,  and  base."     The  correction 
is  Malone's,  and  is  generally  adopted. 

126.  To  tnc  vcn  cannot  reach,  etc.     The  folio  has  a  comma  at  the  end 
of  the  preceding  line,  and  points  this  line  thus:    "To  me  you  cannot 
reach.     You  play  the  Spaniel!,"  which  some  editors  retain.     Mason  sug- 
gested the  reading  in  the  text.     See  Gr.  244. 

133.  Than  but  once  think  this  place.  The  folio  has  "  his  place  ;"  cor- 
rected by  Rowe.  K.  retains  "  his." 

135.  I  had  thought  1  had  had.  I  thought  I  had.  Cf.  Gr.  360.  Accord- 
ing to  Fox,  the  king  said,  "  Ah,  my  lords,  I  thought  I  had  wiser  men  of 
my  counsaile  than  now  I  find  you.  What  discretion  was  this  in  you  thus 
to  make  the  primate  of  the  real  me,  and  one  of  you  in  office,  to  wait  at 
the  counsaille-chamber  doore  amongst  servingmen  ?  You  might  have 
considered  that  he  was  a  counsailer  as  wel  as  you,  and  you  had  no  such 
commission  of  me  so  to  handle  him.  I  was  content  that  you  should  trie 
him  as  a  counsellor,  and  not  as  a  meane  subject.  But  now  I  well  per- 
ceive that  things  be  done  against  him  maliciouslie,  and  if  some  of  you 
might  have  had  your  mindes,  you  would  have  tried  him  to  the  uttermost. 
But  I  doe  you  all  to  wit,  and  protest,  that  if  a  prince  may  bee  beholding 
unto  his  subject  (and  so  solemnlie  laying  his  hand  upon  his  brest,  said), 
by  the  faith  I  owe  to  God,  I  take  this  man  here,  my  lord  of  Canterburie, 
to  be  of  all  other  a  most  faithful  subject  unto  us,  and  one  to  whome  we 
are  much  beholding,  giving  him  great  commendations  otherwise." 

146.  Had  ye  mean.  S.  commonly  uses  the  plural  means,  but  has  mean 
in  y.  C.  iii.  I.  161  :  "  no  mean  of  death  ;"  A.  and  C.  iv.  6.  35  :  "a  swifter 
mean  ;"  Oth.  iii.  i.  39 :  "I  '11  devise  a  mean,"  etc.  Cf.  Bacon,  Essay  19  : 
"thinke  to  Command  the  End,  and  not  to  endure  the  Meane,"  etc. 

149.  What  was  purposed,  etc.  "  And  with  that,"  says  Fox,  "one  or  two 
of  the  chiefest  of  the  counsaile,  making  their  excuse,  declared,  that  in  re- 
questing his  indurance,  it  was  rather  ment  for  his  triall  and  his  purgation 
against  the  common  fame  and  slander  of  the  worlde,  than  for  any  malice 
conceived  against  him.  '  Well,  well,  my  lords  (quoth  the  king),  take  him, 
and  well  use  him,  as  hee  is  worthy  to  bee,  and  make  no  more  ado.'  And 
with  that,  every  man  caught  him  by  the  hand,  and  made  faire  weather  of 
altogethers,  which  might  easilie  be  done  with  that  man." 

156.  Beholding.     Beholden.     See  on  i.  4.  32  above. 

IOI.  That  is,  a  fair  young  maid.  Rowe  read  "There  is,"  which  D. 
and  W.  favour.  We  may  explain  it,  as  it  stands,  by  Gr.  414.  Cf.  R.and 
y.  iv.  2.  31 :  "this  reverend  holy  friar,  All  our  whole  city  is  much  bound 
to  him."  Or  we  may  assume  an  ellipsis  of  to  after  godfather  ;  and  com- 
pare ii.  i.  48  above  : 

"  whoever  the  king  favours, 
The  cardinal  instantly  will  find  employment"  (for). 

166.  You  \i  spare  your  spoons.     It  was  the  old  custom  for  the  sponsors 


202  NOTES. 

at  christening  to  make  a  present  of  gilt  spoons  to  the  child.  These  were 
called  apostle  spoons^  because  figures  of  the  apostles  were  carved  on  the 
handles.  Rich  people  gave  the  whole  twelve,  but  those  who  were  poorer 
or  more  penurious  limited  themselves  to  four  (for  the  evangelists),  or  even 
to  one,  which  represented  the  patron  saint  of  the  child.  Allusions  to  these 
spoons  are  frequent  in  our  old  writers.  The  Var.  of  1821  fills  a  page  with 
examples. 

This  line  and  the  two  that  follow  are  printed  as  prose  in  the  folio  (so  in 
W.,  H.,  and  the  Camb.  ed.),  but,  as  Abbott  remarks  (Gr.  333),  this  "  makes 
an  extraordinary  and  inexplicable  break  in  a  scene  which  is  wholly  verse." 
See  also  on  proper  names  in  the  metre  of  S.  on  p.  354  of  Gr. 

173.  Triie  heart.     The  1st  folio  has  "  hearts  ;"  corrected  in  the  2d. 

176.  A  shrewd  turn.     An  ill  turn.     See  M.  of  V.  p.  151. 

177.  7^rifte  time  away.     Cf.  J7.  of  V.  iv.  I.  298 :  "We  trifle  time." 

178.  Made  a  Christian.     That  is,  christened. 


THE    BEAR    G/LRDKN. 


SCENE  IV. — Parish  Garden.     The  vuJgar  pronunciation  of  Paris  Gar- 
den.    "This  celebrated  bear-garden  on  the  Bankside  was  so  called  from 


ACT  r.    SCENE  //'.  203 

Robert  de  Pan>,  who  had  a  house  ami  garden  there  in  the  time  of  ku  h- 
arcl  1 1."  (  M  alone ).  The  Globe  Theatre  stood  on  the  southern  side  o| 
the  Thames,  ami  wa*  eontt-uous  to  this  garden,  which  was  noted  for  its 
noise  and  disoider. 

;.  </',//-///;;.  "Shouting  or  roaring.  Littleton'^  I  >ii  t.  has  'To  gape  or 
haw),  rv,-//f-/w'  "  (Reed).  This  may  be  the  meaning  of  the  word  in  M.  ofV. 
iv.  i.  47  :  "a  gaping  pig."  Schmidt  gives  it  so. 

13.  Mav-iiav  morning.     All  ranks  of  people  ujed  to  "go  a  Maying"  on 
the  first  of  May.     Stowe  says  :  "  In  the  month  of  May,  namely,  on  May- 
day in  the  morning,  every  man,  except  impediment,  would  walk  into  the 
sweet  meadows  and  green  woods  ;  there  to  rejoice  their  spirits  with  the 
beauty  and  savour  of  sweet  flowers,  and  with  the  noise*  of  birds,  praising 
God  in  their  kind." 

\Ve  icad  in  Hall  of  the  Venetian  ambassadors,  in  1515,  accompanying 
Queen  Katharine,  in  great  state,  to  meet  Henry  VIII.  at  Shooter's  Hill, 
near  Greenwich  ;  and,  after  music  and  a  banquet,  they  proceeded  home- 
ward ;  certain  pasteboard  giants  (Gog  and  Magog)  being  borne  in  the 
procession,  and  "  Lincoln  green"  worn  in  honour  of  Robin  Hood.  Kath- 
erine  also  gathered  "May-dew"  in  Greenwich  Park. 

14.  Paul's.     St.  Paul's  Cathedral.     Itis  "  Powles"  in  the  folio,  as  often  ; 
"but  this  is  a  mere  phonographic  irregularity,  not  a  characteristic  vulgar- 
ism like  '  Parish'  above.     '  Paul'  was  universally  pronounced  Pole  in  S.'s 
time"  (W.). 

17.  Four  foot.  Cf.  I  Hen.  IV.  ii.  2.  13  :  "  four  foot ;"  W.  T.  iv.  4.  347  : 
"twelve  foot  and  a  half,"  etc.  So  "three  pound  of  sugar"  (  W.  T.  iv.  3. 
40),  "a  hundred  pound  in  gold"  {M.  W.  iv.  6.  5),  etc.  This  use  of  the 
singular  for  the  plural  in  familiar  terms  of  weight  and  measure  is  com- 
mon even  now  in  vulgar  speech. 

20.  Sir  Guy,  nor  Colbrand.  Sir  Guy  of  Warwick  was  a  famous  hero  of 
the  old  romances,  and  Colbrand  was  a  Danish  giant  whom  he  subdued 
at  Winchester. 

23.  Let  me  ne'er  hope  to  see  a  chine  again,  etc.  This  passage  stands 
thus  in  the  folio  : 

"  Let  me  ne're  hope  to  see  a  Chine  againe, 
And  that  I  would  not  for  a  Cow,  God  saue  her. " 

The  Coll.  MS.  corrector  alters  chine  to  "queen,"  and  cow  to  "crown  ;" 
but,  as  Lettsom  remarks,  "  he  seems  to  have  been  confounding  in  his 
memory  the  christening  procession  of  the  next  scene  with  the  coronation 
procession  of  iv,  I."  As  the  former  took  place  on  the  fourth  day  after 
the  birth  of  the  princess,  it  is  pretty  certain  that  the  queen  could  not 
have  been  present.  The  main  difficulty  in  the  passage  has  been  the 
"God  save  her  !"  as  referring  to  "cow;"  but  a  writer  in  the  Literary 
Gazette  (Jan.  25,  1862)  says  that  a  phrase  identical  with  that  used  by 
Shakespeare  is  in  use  to  this  day  in  the  south  of  England.  "  '  Oh  !  I 

*  Noise  sometimes  meant  chorus,  symphony,  music,  or  band  of  musicians  Cf.  2  Hen. 
Ilr.  ii.  4.  13  :  "  See  if  thou  canst  find  out  Sneak's  noise  :  Mistress  Tearsheet  would  fain 
have  some  music."  For  the  word  as  applied  to  musical  sounds,  see  Spenser.  F.  Q.  \.  12. 
39:  "During  the  which  there  was  an  heavenly  noise;''  Milton.  At  a  Solemn.  Music: 
"that  melodious  noise;''  Hymn  on  Nativity:  "the  stringed  noise,"  etc.  Coleridge 
has  "a  pleasant  noise''  in  the  Ancient  Mariner. 


204  NOTES. 

would  not  do  that  for  a  cow,  save  her  tail  !'  may  still  be  heard  in  the 
mouths  of  the  vulgar  in  Devonshire."  St.  quotes  Greene  and  Lodge's 
Looking  Gl-tsse  for  London  (1598) :  "  my  blind  mare,  God  bless  her  !"  On 
the  whole,  we  may  assume  that  the  old  reading  is  the  right  one,  and  that 
the  porter's  man  was  thinking,  not  of  a  queen,  but  of  a  chine  of  beef. 

30.  Moorjields.  "  The  train-bands  of  the  city  were  exercised  in  Moor- 
fields"  (Johnson). 

32.  Brazier.  A  brass^founder,  and  a  small  portable  furnace.  "  Both 
these  senses  are  understood"  (Johnson). 

34.  Under  the  line.     Under  the  equator.     Cf.  Temp.  iv.  I.  237. 

Fire-drake.  The  word  has  several  meanings  :  a  fiery  dragon  (as  in  the 
Romance  of  Bevis  of  Hampton),  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  or  ignis  fatuns,  and  "  a 
firework  which  sprang  fitfully  about  in  the  air  with  many  explosions." 

38.  Pinked.  "Worked  in  eyelet  holes."  On  the  passage,  cf.  T.ofS. 
iv.  3.  63 : 

'•'•Haberdasher.  Here  is  the  cap  your  worship  did  bespeak. 
Petrwhio.  Why,  this  was  moulded  on  a  porringer ; 
»  *  *  *  *  *  * 

Away  with  it !  come  let  me  have  a  bigger. 

Katherine.   I  '11  have  no  bigger:  this  doth  fit  the  time, 
And  gentlewomen  wear  such  caps  as  these. " 

40.  The  meteor.     The  "fire-drake." 

41.  Clubs.     This  was  the  rallying-cry  of  the  London  apprentices,  who 
used  their  clubs  to  preserve  the  public  peace  ;  but  sometimes,  as  here,  to 
raise  a  disturbance  (D.).     Cf.  I  Hen.  VI.  1.3.  84:  "I  '11  call  for  clubs,  if 
you  will  not  away."     S.  often  puts  home  phrases  into  the  mouths  of  for- 
eign characters,  and  we  find  this  one  in  A.  Y.  L.  v.  2, 44,  R.  and  J.  i.  I.  80, 
etc. 

44.  To  the  broomstaff  to  me.     Pope  read  "with  me  ;"  but  cf.  "a  quar- 
rel to  you"  (Much  Ado,  ii.  1. 243),  and  see  Gr.  185-190. 

45.  Loose  shot.     Random  shooters. 

47.  Win  the  work.     Carry  the  fortification. 

50.  The  Tribtilation  of  Tower-hill,  or  the  limbs  of  Limehouse.  "  No 
other  allusion  to  these  places  or  assemblages  has  been  discovered.  It 
may  be  that  these  are  the  names  of  Puritan  congregations,  and  that  S. 
meant  a  satirical  fling  at  the  pretended  meekness  of  that  body ;  but  it 
may  also  be  that  '  their  dear  brothers'  refers  to  the  obstreperous  youths 
first  named,  and  that  the  '  audiences'  referred  to  were  of  the  same  kidney. 
Within  the  memory  of  men  now  living  'Tribulation'  was  a  common  name 
among  New  England  families  of  Puritan  descent"  (W.). 

52.  Limbo  Patrnm.  "In  confinement.  'In  limbo'  continues  to  be  a 
cant  phrase,  in  the  same  sense,  at  this  day1'  (Malone).  The  Limbus  Pa- 
trum  is  properly  "the  purgatory  of  the  Patriarchs,"  where  they  are  sup- 
posed to  be  waiting  for  the  resurrection.  Cf.  C.  of  E.  iv.  2.  32  :  "  he  's  in 
Tartar  Limbo,  worse  than  hell ;"  T.  A.  iii.  I.  149  :  "as  far  from  help  as 
Limbo  is  from  bliss  ;"  A.  W.  v.  3.  261  :  "  of  Satan,  and  of  Limbo,"  etc. 

54.  The  running  banquet.  The  word  banquet  used  to  mean,  not  the  full 
dinner  or  supper,  but  merely  the  dessert.  Ct.  Massinger,  Unnatural  Com- 
bat, iii.  I  : 

"We  Ml  dine  in  the  great  room:  but  let  the  music 
And  banquet  be  prepared  here." 


ACT   V.     SCENE    V. 


205 


So  in  Cavendish's  Life  of  Wolsty  :  "where  they  did  both  sup  and  ban- 
quet." In  this  case,  a  whipping  was  to  be  the  dessert  of  the  rioters  after 
their  regular  course  of  Limho. 

64.  Torna-pieces.     See  Gr.  24  and  140. 

66.  Lay  ye  all,  etc.  According  to  Lord  Campbell,  to  lay  by  the  heels 
\\.i-  "the  technical  expression  for  committing  to  prison." 

69.  Baiting  of  bombards.     That  is,  tippling.     See  7em/>.\\  128. 

74.  A  Marshalse-i.     The  Marshalsea  was  a  well-known  prison. 

77.  Get  up  0'  the  rail.     Mason  would  read  "off  the  rail  ;"  but  < 
often  used  where  we  should  use  front.     See  Gr.  166.     We  still  say 
of  the  house,"  etc. 

78.  /  V/  pick  you.     I'll  pitch  you.     The  folio  has  "He  pecke  you." 
Cf.  Cor.  i.  i.  204  :  "as  high  As  I  could  pick  my  lance." 


was 
out 


CHRISTENING   GIFTS. 


SCENE  V. —  The  Palace.  At  Greenwich,  where,  as  we  learn  from  Hall, 
this  procession  was  made  from  the  Church  of  the  Friars. 

Standing  boivh.  Bowls  elevated  on  feet  or  pedestals.  See  the  cut  above. 
According  to  Hall  (whom  S.  follows  here),"  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
gave  to  the  princess  a  standing  cup  of  gold  ;  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk  gave 
to  her  a  standing  cup  of  gold,  fretted  with  pearl ;  the  Marchioness  of  Dor- 
set gave  three  gilt  bowls,  pounced,  with  a  cover  ;  and  the  Marchioness  of 
Exeter  gave  three  standing  bowls,  graven,  all  gilt,  with  a  cover." 

12.  Gossips.  A  gossip  in  its  first  and  etymological  sense,  as  Trench 
(Select  Glossary,  etc.)  remarks,  "  is  a  sponsor  in  baptism — one  sib  or  akin 
in  t/W,  according  to  the  doctrine  of  the  mediaeval  Church,  that  sponsors 


206  NOTES. 

contracted  a  spiritual  affinity  with  one  another,  with  the  parents,  and 
with  the  child  itself.  '  Gossips,'  in  this  primary  sense,  would  ordinarily 
be  intimate  and  familiar  with  one  another,  .  .  .  and  thus  the  word  was 
next  applied  to  all  familiars  and  intimates.  At  a  later  day  it  obtained 
the  meaning  which  is  now  predominant  in  it,  namely,  the  idle  profitless 
talk,  the  commerage  (which  word  has  exactly  the  same  history)  that  too 
often  finds  place  in  the  intercourse  of  such." 

Cf.  C.  of  E.  v.  i.  405  :  "Go  to  a  gossip's  feast ;"  W.  T.  ii.  3.41  :  "  need- 
ful conference  About  some  gossips  for  your  highness,"  etc. 

23.  Saba.  The  folio  reading.  "  Except  in  the  translations  of  the  Bible 
the  word  '  Sheba'  seems  to  have  been  unknown  to  English  and  even  to 
Latin  literature  in  the  time  of  Shakespeare.  Solomon's  dusky  admirer 
was  Queen  of  Sheba;  but  in  the  Septuagint,  as  well  as  in  the  Latin  Vul- 
gate, she  herself  is  called  Saba :  Kat  flaaiXiaffa  2a/3d  ijicovjt  TO  ovo^ta 
XaXwficjv.  i  Kings,  x.  i"  (W.).  We  take  it  that  2a/3d  (an  indeclinable 
noun)  here  is  the  name  of  the  country,  and  not  of  the  queen.  The  Arab 
legends  (which  are  mere  legends,  of  course)  call  her  Balkis.  Peele  and 
Marlowe  speak  of  her  as  "  Saba." 

34.  Under  his  own  -vine.     Cf.  MicaJi,  iv.  I. 

37.  Ways.     The  reading  of  4th  folio;  "way"  in  the  earlier  eds. 

39.  Nor  shall  this  peace.     Those  who  believe  that  this  play  was  written 
before  the  death  of  Elizabeth  (see  p.  8  above)  enclose  in  brackets  the  re- 
mainder of  this  speech  and  King  Henry's  following  it. 

40.  77te  maiden  phoenix.     See  Temp.  p.  132. 

50.  Wherever  the  bright  sun,  etc.  See  p.  10  above.  On  a  picture  of 
King  James,  which  formerly  belonged  to  Bacon,  and  is  now  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Lord  Grimston,  he  is  styled  imperii  Atlantici  conditor  (Malone). 

59.  But  she  must  die,  etc.     The  folio  reads  : 

"  But  she  must  dye, 

She  must,  the  Saints  must  haue  her ;  yet  a  Virgin, 
A  most  vnspotted  Lilly  shall  she  passe 
To  th'  ground,  and  all  the  Worlde  shall  mourne  her." 

D.  thinks  that  Cranmer  meant  to  express  "  regret  at  his  foreknowledge 
that  Elizabeth  was  to  die  childless,  not  that  she  was  to  die,"  and  points  thus : 

"but  she  must  die, — 

She  must,  the  saints  must  have  her, — yet  a  virgin  ; 
A  most  unspotted  lily,"  etc. 

But,  as  W.  remarks,  the  archbishop  simply  means  to  say  "  that  the  Vir- 
gin Queen  was  too  good.to  die." 

65.  Did  I  gel  any  thing.  That  is,  any  thing  worth  reckoning  in  compar- 
ison with  such  a  blessing.  Happy  —  of  happy  augury,  promising. 

70.  And  your  good  brethren.  The  folio  has  "  And  you  good  Brethren," 
which  Theo.  corrected,  at  the  suggestion  of  Dr.  Thirlby.  The  king 
would  not  call  the  aldermen  his  brethren. 

75.  Has  business.  That  is,  he  has  business.  The  folio  reads  "  'Has 
businesse."  See  Gr.  400  and  461. 


EPILOGUE.— ADDENDA.  "207 


THI.    EPILOGUE, 

On  the  authorship  of  the  Epilogue,  see  notes  on  the  Prologue. 

10.  G'iW  wi>rnfn.     The  rhyme  would  seem  to  require  that  women  be 
accented  on  the  hist  syllable,  though  the  measure  has  to  halt  for  it.     Mr. 
Adee  writes  us  :   "The  curious  rhyme  of/;/  and  women  is  one  of  Peele's 
most  rhar.it  (eristic  earmarks.     For  instance,  he  rhymes  brings  and  //<//;/ </x 
I !nt  iVele  died  ten  years  too  soon  to  have  written  this,  unless  it  is  an  old 
unused  Epilogue,  tacked  on  to  Hen.  I' I II.  by  a  later  hand." 

11.  //"  they  smile,  etc.    Steevens  remarks  that  we  have  the  same  thought 
in  the  Epilogues  to  A.  Y.  L.  and  2  Hen.  IV. 


ADDENDA. 


i.  SPEEDING  ON  THE  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  PLAY. — The  following 
cts  from  Mr.  Spedding's  paper  (see  p.  n  above)  will  give  the  reader 


MR. 
extracts 

a  general  idea  of  his  argument: 

""  The  effect  of  this  play  as  a  whole  is  weak  and  disappointing.  The 
truth  is  that  the  interest,  instead  of  rising  towards  the  end,  falls  away 
utterly,  and  leaves  us  in  the  last  act  among  persons  whom  we  scarcely 
know,  and  events  for  which  we  do  not  care.  The  strongest  sympathies 
which  have  been  awakened  in  us  run  opposite  to  the  course  of  the  action. 
Our  sympathy  is  for  the  grief  and  goodness  of  Queen  Katherine,  while 
the  course  of  the  action  requires  us  to  entertain  as  a  theme  of  joy  and 
compensatory  satisfaction  the  coronation  of  Anne  Bullen  and  the  birth  of 
her  daughter  ;  which  are  in  fact  a  part  of  Katherine's  injury,  and  amount 
to  little  less  than  the  ultimate  triumph  of  wrong.  For  throughout  the 
king's  cause  is  not  only  felt  by  us,  but  represented  to  us,  as  a  bad  one. 
\Ve  hear,  indeed,  of  conscientious  scruples  as  to  the  legality  of  his  first 
marriage ;  but  we  are  not  made,  nor  indeed  asked,  to  believe  that  they 
are  sincere,  or  to  recognize  in  his  new  marriage  either  the  hand  of  Prov- 
idence, or  the  consummation  of  any  worthy  object,  or  the  victory  of  any 
of  those  more  common  frailties  of  humanity  with  which  we  can  sympa- 
thize. The  mere  caprice  of  passion  drives  the  king  into  the  commission 
of  what  seems  a  great  iniquity  ;  our  compassion  for  the  victim  of  it  is 
elaborately  excited  ;  no  attempt  is  made  to  awaken  any  counter-sympa- 
thy for  ///;// ;  yet  his  passion  has  its  way,  and  is  crowned  with  all  felicity, 
present  and  to  come.  The  effect  is  much  like  that  which  would  have 
been  produced  by  Th?  Winter's  7\i/e  if  Hermione  had  died  in  the  fourth 
act  in  consequence  of  the  jealous  tyranny  of  Leontes,  and  the  play  had 
ended  with  the  coronation  of  a  new  queen  and  the  christening  of  a  new 
iieir,  no  period  of  remorse  intervening.  It  is  as  if  Nathan's  rebuke  to 
David  had  ended,  not  with  the  doom  of  death  to  the  child  just  born,  but 
with  a  prophetic  promise  of  the  felicities  of  Solomon. 

"This  main  detect  is  sufficient  of  itself  to  mar  the  effect  of  the  play  as 
a  whole.  But  there  is  another,  which,  though  less  vital,  is  not  less  unac- 
countable. The  greater  part  of  the  fifth  act,  in  which  the  interest  ought 


208  ADDENDA. 

to  be  gathering  to  a  head,  is  occupied  with  matters  in  which  we  have  not 
been  prepared  to  take  any  interest  by  what  went  before,  and  on  which  no 
interest  is  reflected  by  what  comes  after.  The  scenes  in  the  gallery  and 
council-chamber,  though  full  of  life  and  vigour,  and,  in  point  of  execution, 
not  unworthy  of  Shakspere,  are  utterly  irrelevant  to  the  business  of  the 
play ;  for  what  have  we  to  do  with  the  quarrel  between  Gardiner  and 
Cranmer  ?  Nothing  in  the  play  is  explained  by  it,  nothing  depends  upon 
it.  It  is  used  only  (so  far  as  the  argument  is  concerned)  as  a  preface 
for  introducing  Cranmer  as  godfather  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  which  might 
have  been  done  as  a  matter  of  course  without  any  preface  at  all.  The 
scenes  themselves  are  indeed  both  picturesque  and  characteristic  and 
historical,  and  might  probably  have  been  introduced  with  excellent  effect 
into  a  dramatized  life  of  Henry  VIII.  But  historically  they  do  not  belong 
to  the  place  where  they  are  introduced  here,  and  poetically  they  have  in 
this  place  no  value,  but  the  reverse. 

"  With  the  fate  of  Wolsey,  again,  in  whom  our  second  interest  centres, 
the  business  of  this  last  act  does  not  connect  itself  any  more  than  with 
that  of  Queen  Katherine.  The  fate  of  Wolsey  would  have  made  a  noble 
subject  for  a  tragedy  in  itself,  and  might  very  well  have  been  combined 
with  the  tragedy  of  Katherine ;  but,  as  an  introduction  to  the  festive 
solemnity  with  which  the  play  concludes,  the  one  seems  to  be  as  inap- 
propriate as  the  other.  .  .  . 

"  I  know  no  other  play  in  Shakspere  which  is  chargeable  with  a  fault 
like  this,  none  in  which  the  moral  sympathy  of  the  spectator  is  not  car- 
ried along  with  the  main  current  of  action  to  the  end.  In  all  the  histor- 
ical tragedies  a  Providence  may  be  seen  presiding  over  the  development 
of  events,  as  just  and  relentless  as  the  fate  in  a  Greek 'tragedy.  Even  in 
Henry  IV.,  where  the  comic  element  predominates,  we  are  never  allowed 
to  exult  in  the  success  of  the  wrong-doer,  or  to  forget  the  penalties  which 
are  due  to  guilt.  And  if  it  be  true  that  in  the  romantic  comedies  our 
moral  sense  does  sometimes  suffer  a  passing  shock,  it  is  never  owing  to 
an  error  in  the  general  design,  but  always  to  some  incongruous  circum- 
stance in  the  original  story  which  has  lain  in  the  way  and  not  been  en- 
tirely got  rid  of,  and  which  after  all  offends  us  rather  as  an  incident 
improbable  in  itself  than  as  one  for  which  our  sympathy  is  unjustly  de- 
manded. The  singularity  of  Henry  VIII.  is  that,  while  four  fifths  of  the 
play  are  occupied  in  matters  which  are  to  make  us  incapable  of  mirth, — 

4  Be  sad,  as  we  would  make  you :  think  ye  see 
The  very  persons  of  our  history 
As  they  were  living ;  think  you  see  them  great, 
And  follow' d  with  the  genera)  throng  and  sweat 
Of  thousand  friends :  then  in  a  moment  see 
How  soon  this  mightiness  meets  misery  ! 
And  if  you  can  be  merry  then,  I'll  say 
A  man  may  weep  upon  his  wedding  day,' — 

the  remaining  fifth  is  devoted  to  joy  and  triumph,  and  ends  with  univer- 
sal festivity  : 

'This  day  let  no  man  think 

He  has  business  at  his  house  :  for  all  shall  stay  : 

This  little  one  shall  make  it  holiday  ' 


ADDENDA. 


2  of) 


"  Of  this  strange  inconsistency,  or  at  IcaM  <>t  .1  certain  poorncs>  m  the 
general  effect  which  is  amply  accounted  lor  b\  such  inconsistency.  I  had 
tor  some  time  been  vaguely  conscious  ;  and  1  hail  also  heard  it  casually 
remarked  by  a  man  of  th>t-iatc  judgment  on  such  a  point  [TenmysonJ 
that  many  passages  in  Henry  I '///.  were  very  much  in  the  manner  of 
Fletcher;  when  1  happened  to  take  up  a  book  of  extracts,  and  opened 
by  chance  on  the  following  beautiful  lines  : 

'Would   1   luul  never  uocl  iliis  English  earth, 
Or  felt  the  flatteries  that  grow  upon  it  ! 
Ye  have  angels'  faces,  but  heaven  knows  your  hearts. 
What  will  become  ot  me  now,  wretched  lady? 
1   a:n  the  most  unhappy  woman  living. 
Alas  1  poor  wenches,  where  are  now  your  fortunes  ? 
Shipwrack'd  upon  a  kingdom,  where  no  pity, 
No  friends,  no  hope  ;  no  kindred  weep  for  me, 
Almost  no  grave  allow' d  me. — Like  the  lily, 
That  ouce  was  mistress  of  the  field  and  flourish'd, 
I  '11  hang  my  head  and  perish.' 

"Was  it  possible  to  believe  that  these  lines  were  written  by  Shak- 
spere  ?  I  had  often  amused  myself  with  attempting  to  trace  the  gradual 
change  of  his  versification  from  the  simple  monotonous  cadence  of  The 
Two  Gentlemen  of  \'e.>ona  to  the  careless  felicities  of  The  Winter's  Tale 
and  Cymbeline,  of  which  it  seemed  as  impossible  to  analyze  the  law  as 
not  to  feel  the  melody  ;  but  I  could  find  no  stage  in  that  progress  to 
which  it  seemed  possible  to  refer  these  lines.  I  determined  upon  this  to 
read  the  play  through  with  an  eye  to  this  especial  point,  and  see  whether 
any  solution  of  the. mystery  would  present  itself.  The  result  of  my  exam- 
ination was  a  clear  conviction  that  at  least  two  different  hands  had  been 
employed  in  the  composition  of  Henry  tVIII.,  if  not  three  ;  and  that 
they  .had  worked,  not  together,  but  alternately  upon  distinct  portions  of  it. 

"This  is  a  conclusion  which  cannot  of  course  be  established  by  de- 
tached extracts,  which  in  questions  of  style  are  doubtful  evidence  at  best. 
The  only  satisfactory  evidence  upon  which  it  can  be  determined  whether 
a  given  scene  was  or  was  not  by  Shakspere,  is  to  be  found  in  the  general 
effect  produced  on  the  mind,  the  ear,  and  the  feelings  by  a  free  and  broad 
perusal  ;  and  if  any  of  your  readers  care  to  follow  me  in  this  inquiry,  I 
would  ask  him  to  do  as  I  did — that  is,  to  read  the  whole  play  straight 
through,  with  an  eye  open  to  notice  the  larger  differences  of  effect,  but 
without  staying  to  examine  small  points.  The  effect  of  my  own  experi- 
ment was  as  follows  : 

"The  opening  of  the  play — the  conversation  between  Buckingham, 
Norfolk,  and  Abergavenny — seemed  to  have  the  full  stamp  of  Shakspere, 
in  his  latest  manner:  the  same  close-packed  expression  ;  the  same  life, 
and  reality,  and  freshness  ;  the  same  rapid  and  abrupt  turnings  of  thought, 
so  quick  that  language  can  hardly  follow  fast  enough  ;  the  same  impa- 
tient activity  of  intellect  and  fancy,  which  having  once  disclosed  an  idea 
cannot  wait  to  work  it  orderly  out ;  the  same  daring  confidence  in  the 
resources  of  language,  which  plunges  headlong  into  a  sentence  without 
knowing  how  it  is  to  come  forth  ;  the  same  careless  metre  which  dis- 
dains to  produce  its  harmonious  effects  by  the  ordinary  devices,  yet  is 

O 


210  ADDENDA. 

evidently  subject  to  a  master  of  harmony  ;  the  same  entire  freedom  from 
book-language  and  commonplace  ;  all  the  qualities,  in  short,  which  dis- 
tinguish the  magical  hand  which  has  never  yet  been  successfully  imitated. 

"In  the  scene  in  the  council-chamber  which  follows  (i.  2), Where  the 
characters  of  Katherine  and  Wolsey  are  brought  out,  I  found  the  same 
characteristics  equally  strong. 

"  But  the  instant  I  entered  upon  the  third  scene,  in  which  the  Lord 
Chamberlain,  Lord  Sands,  and  Sir  Thomas  Lovell  converse,  I  was  con- 
scious of  a  total  change.  I  felt  as  if  I  had  passed  suddenly  out  of  the 
language  of  nature  into  the  language  of  the  stage,  or  of  some  conven- 
tional mode  of  conversation.  The  structure  of  the  verse  was  quite  differ- 
ent and  full  of  mannerism.  The  expression  became  suddenly  diffuse  and 
languid.  The  wit  wanted  mirth  and  character.  And  all  this  Was  equally 
true  of  the  supper  scene  which  closes  the  first  act. 

"The  second  act  brought  me  back  to  the  tragic  vein,  but  it  was  not 
the  tragic  vein  of  Shakspere.  When  I  compared  the  eager,  impetuous, 
and  fiery  language  of  Buckingham  in  the  first  act  with  the  languid  and 
measured  cadences  of  his  farewell  speech,  I  felt  that  the  difference  was 
too  great  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  mere  change  of  situation,  without 
supposing  also  a  change  of  writers.  The  presence  of  death  produces 
great  changes  in  men,  but  no  such  change  as  we  have  here. 

"  When  in  like  manner  I  compared  the  Henry  and  Wolsey  of  the 
scene  which  follows  (ii.  2)  with  the  Henry  and  Wolsey  of  the  council- 
chamber  (i.  2),  I  perceived  a  difference  scarcely  less  striking.  The  dia- 
logue, through  the  whole  scene,  sounded  still  slow  and  artificial. 

"The  next  scene  brought  another  sudden  change.  .  And,  as  in  passing 
from  the  second  to  the  third  scene  of  the  first  act,  I  had  seemed  to  be 
passing  all  at  once  out  of  the  language  of  nature  into  that  of  convention, 
so  in  passing  from  the  second  to  the  third  scene  of  the  second  act  (in 
which  Anne  Bullen  appears,  I  may  say  for  the  first  time,  for  in  the  sup- 
per scene  she  was  merely  a  conventional  court  lady  without  any  character 
at  all),  I  seemed  to  pass  not  less  suddenly  from  convention  back  again 
into  nature.  And  when  I  considered  that  this  short  and  otherwise  insig- 
nificant passage  contains  all  that  we  ever  see  of  Anne  (for  it  is  necessary 
to  forget  her  former  appearance),  and  yet  how  clearly  the  character  comes 
out,  how  very  a  woman  she  is,  and  yet  how  distinguishable  from  any  other 
individual  woman,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  acknowledging  that  the  sketch 
came  from  the  same  hand  which  drew  Perdita. 

"  Next  follows  the  famous  trial  scene.  And  here  I  could  as  little  doubt 
that  I  recognized  the  same  hand  to  which  we  owe  the  trial  of  Hermione. 
When  I  compared  the  language  of  Henry  and  of  Wolsey  throughout  this 
scene  to  the  end  of  the  act,  with  their  language  in  the  council-chamber 
(i.  2),  I  found  that  it  corresponded  in  all  essential  features  ;  when  I  com- 
pared it  with  their  language  in  the  second  scene  of  the  second  act,  I  per- 
ceived that  it  was  altogether  different.  Katherine  also,  as  she  appears  in 
this  scene,  was  exactly  the  same  person  as  she  was  in  the  council-cham- 
ber; but  when  I  went  on  to  the  first  scene  of  the  third  act,  which  repre- 
sents her  interview  with  Wolsey  and  Campeius,  I  found  her  as  much 
changed  as  Buckingham  was  after  his  sentence,  though  without  any  alter- 


ADDENDA.  2II 

ation  of  circumstances  to  account  for  an  alteration  of  temper.  Indeed 
the  whole  of  this  scene  seemed  to  have  all  the  peculiarities  of  Fletcher, 
both  in  conception,  language,  and  versification,  without  a  single  feature 
that  reminded  me  of  Shakspc-re  ;  and,  since  in  both  pa».iges  the  true 
narrative  of  Cavendish  is  followed  minutely  and  carefully,  and  both  are 
therefore  copies  from  the  same  original  and  in  the  same  style  of  art,  it 
was  the  more  easy  to  compare  them  with  each  other. 

"  In  the  next  scene  (iii.  2)  I  seemed  again  to  get  out  of  Fletcher  iato 
Shakspere ;  though  probably  not  into  Shakspere  pure  ;  a  scene  by  an- 
other hand  perhaps  which  Shakspere  had  only  remodelled,  or  a  scene  by 
Shakspere  which  another  hand  had  worked  upon  to  make  it  fit  the  place. 
The  speeches  interchanged  between  Henry  and  Wolsey  seemed  to  be 
entirely  Shakspere's ;  but  in  the  altercation  between  Wolsey  and  the 
lords  which  follows,  I  could  recognize  little  or  nothing  of  his  peculiar 
manner,  while  many  passages  were  strongly  marked  with  the  favourite 
Fletcherian  cadence  ;*  and  as  for  the  famous  '  Farewell,  a  long  farewell,' 
etc.,  though  associated  by  means  of  Enfield's  Speaker  with  my  earliest 
notions  of  Shakspere,  it  appeared  (now  that  my  mind  was  open  to  enter- 
tain the  doubt)  to  belong  entirely  and  unquestionably  to  Fletcher. 

"  Of  the  fourth  act  I  did  not  so  well  know  what  to  think.  For  the  most 
part  it  seemed  to  bear  evidence  of  a  more  vigorous  hand  than  Fletcher's, 
with  less  mannerism,  especially  in  the  description  of  the  coronation,  and 
the  character  of  Wolsey  ;  and  yet  it  had  not,  to  my  mind,  the  freshness 
and  originality  of  Shakspere.  It  was  pathetic  and  graceful,  but  one  could 
see  how  it  was  done.  Katherine's  last  speeches,  however,  smacked 
strongly  again  of  Fletcher.  And  altogether  it  seemed  to  me  that  if  this 
act  had  occurred  in  one  of  the  plays  written  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher 
in  conjunction,  it  would  probably  have  been  thought  that  both  of  them 
had  had  a  hand  in  it. 

"  The  first  scene  of  the  fifth  act,  and  the  opening  of  the  second,  I 
should  again  have  confidently  ascribed  to  Shakspere,  were  it  not  that  the 
whole  passage  seemed  so  strangely  out  of  place.  I  could  only  suppose 
(what  may  indeed  be  supposed  well  enough  if  my  conjecture  with  regard 
to  the  authorship  of  the  several  parts  be  correct)  that  the  task  of  putting 
the  whole  together  had  been  left  to  an  inferior  hand  ;  in  which  case  I 
should  consider  this  to  be  a  genuine  piece  of  Shakspere's  work,  spoiled 
by  being  introduced  where  it  has  no  business.  In  the  execution  of  the 
christening  scene,  on  the  other  hand  (in  spite  again  of  the  earliest  and 
strongest  associations),  I  could  see  no  evidence  of  Shakspere's  hand  at 
all ;  while  in  point  of  design  it  seemed  inconceivable  that  a  judgment  like 
his  could  have  been  content  with  a  conclusion  so  little  in  harmony  with 
the  prevailing  spirit  and  purpose  of  the  piece." 

*  As,  for  instance  : 

"  Now  I  see 

Of  what  base  metal  ye  are  moulded, — En  |  vy. 
How  eagerly  ye  follow  my  disgra  |  ces 
As  if  it  fed  ye,  and  how  sleek  and  wan  |  ton 
Ye  appear  in  everything  may  bring  my  ru  |  in  1 
Follow  your  envious  courses,  men  of  mal  |  ice  : 
Ye  have  Christian  warrant  for  them,"  etc. 


212  ADDENDA. 

Knock  it  (p.  170).     Mr.  Adee  says  :  "  The  best  passage  I  know  to  illus- 
trate this  use  of/'/  is  in  The  Four  Elements  (Hazlitt's  Dodsley,  i.  47)  .- 


'And 
And 
And 
And 
And 
And 
And 
And 
And 


can  dance  it  gingerly, 
can  foot  it  by  and  by, 
can  prank  it  properly, 
can  countenance  comely, 
can  croak  it  courtesly, 
can  leap  it  lustily, 
can  turn  it  trimly, 
can  frisk  it  freshly, 
can  look  it  lordly." 


My  lord  of  Winchester's  (iii.  2.  231).  "It  has  sometimes  occurred  to 
me  that  the  possessive  s  of  the  folio  might  be  superfluous,  and  that  the  idea 
is  to  make  Norfolk  sarcastically  address  Wolsey  as  '  my  lord  of  Winches- 
ter.' Wolsey  was  degraded  by  the  king's  command  from  his  all-power- 
ful primacy  to  the  simple  bishopric  of  Winchester,  with  his  residence  at 
Asher  House"  (Adee). 

Still  in  thy  right  hand,  etc.  (p.  190).  "Cromwell  was  in  holy  orders, 
and  the  allusion  is  more  likely  to  the  priestly  benediction,  the  pax  vobis- 
cum,  which  was  always  said  with  uplifted  right  hand,  the  thumb  and  fore 
and  middle  fingers  being  raised  to  denote  the  Trinity"  (Adee). 

Then  Garter  (p.  193).  "  In  the  College  of  Heralds  there  are  three 
Kings-at-arms  for  England:  the  first  and  principal  one,  Garter  King-at- 
arms,  was  instituted  by  Henry  V.  for  the  service  of  the  Order  of  the  Gar- 
ter ;  the  other  two,  or  Provincial  Kings-at-arms,  being  respectively  enti- 
tled Clarencieux  (so  named  from  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  third  son  of  Ed- 
ward III.)  and  Norroy  (Roy  du  Nord), — the  heraldic  jurisdiction  of  the 
latter  comprising  all  the  country  to  the  north  of  the  Trent,  while  that  of 
Clarencieux  lay  to  the  south"  (Adee). 

THE  "  TIME-ANALYSIS  "  OF  THE  PLAY. — This  is  summed  up  by  Mr. 
P.  A.  Daniel  (Trans,  of  New  Shaks.  Soc.  1877-79,  p.  345)  as  follows : 

"The  time  of  this  Play  is  seven  days  represented  on  the  stage,  with 
intervals,  the  length  of  which  it  is,  perhaps,  impossible  to  determine :  see 
how  dates  are  shuffled  in  the  list  below. 
Day  i.  Act  I.  sc.  i.-iv. 

Interval.* 

"    2.  Act  II.  sc.  i.-iii. 
•'    3.  Act  II.  sc.  iv. 
"    4.  Act  III.  sc.i.  . 

Interval. 
"    5.  Act  III.  sc.  ii. 

Interval. 
«    6.  Act  IV.  sc.  i.  and  ii. 

Interval. 
"    7.  Act  V.  sc.  i.-v. 

*  "  It  should  be  short ;  for  at  the  end  of  Act  I.  sc.  ii.  the  King  orders  the  fi>tstnt 
trial  of  Buckingham;  but  as  in  sc.  iv.  Henry  first  makes  the  acquaintance  of  Anne,  the 
Wlowinj  scenes  reuuire  it  to  be  long." 


ADDENDA.  313 

HISTORIC  DATES,  ARRANGED  IN  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  PLAY. 

1520.  Tune.    Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold. 
1522.     March.     War  declared  with  France. 

"        May-July.     Visit  of  the  Emperor  to  the  English  Court 

1521.  April  i6th.     Buckingham  brought  to  the  Tower. 

1527.  Henry  becomes  acquainted  with  Anne  Bullen. 

1521  May.     Arraignment  of  Buckingham.     May  1 7th,  his  execution 

1527.  August.     Commencement  of  proceedings  for  the  divorce. 

1528.  October.     Cardinal  Campeius  arrives  in  London. 

1532.  September.     Anne  Bullen  created  Marchioness  of  Pembroke. 

1529.  May.    Assembly  of  the  Court  at  Blackfriars  to  try  the  case  of 

the  divorce. 

Cranmer  abroad  working  for  the  divorce. 

1529.  Return  of  Cardinal  Campeius  to  Rome. 

1533.  January.     Marriage  of  Henry  with  Anne  Bullen. 

1529.  October.     Wolsey  deprived  of  the  great  seal. 

"  "        25th.     Sir  Thomas  More  chosen  Lord  Chancellor. 

1533.  March  3oth.    Cranmer  consecrated  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 

"  May  23d.     Nullity  of  the  marriage  with  Katherine  declared. 

1530.  November  29th.     Death  of  Cardinal  Wolsey. 
1533.  June  ist.     Coronation  of  Anne. 

1536.  January  8th.     Death  of  Queen  Katherine. 

1533.  September  7th.     Birth  of  Elizabeth. 

1544.  Cranmer  called  before  the  Council. 

'533-  September.     Christening  of  Elizabeth." 

LIST  OF  CHARACTERS  IN  THE  PLAY,  WITH  THE  SCENES  IN  WHICH 
THEY  APPEAR. — The  numbers  in  parentheses  indicate  the  lines  the 
characters  have  in  each  scene. 

King:  i.  2(79),  4(19);  ii.  2(32),  4(95);  iii.  2(61);  v.  1(85),  2(13),  3(50), 
5(23).  Whole  no.  457. 

Wolsey:  i.  1(5),  2(42),  4(42)  ;  ii.  2(32),  4(48);  iii.  1(40),  2(227).  Whole 
no.  436. 

Campeius;  ii.  2(15),  4(15) ;  iii.  1(23).     Whole  no.  53. 

Capucius:  iv.  2(11).      Whole  no.  ii. 

Cranmer:  v,  1(19),  2(16),  3(43),  5(56).     Whole  no.  134. 

Norfolk:  i.  1(105),  2(9) ;  ii.  2(39) ;  iii.  2(54);  v.  3(4).    Whole  no.  211, 

Buckingham:  i.  1(118);  ii.  1(74).     Whole  no.  192. 

Suffolk:  ii.  2(17) ;  iii.  2(63)  ;  v.  1(7),  3(6).     Whole  no.  93. 

Surrey:  iii.  2(79);  v.  3(2).     Whole  no.  8l. 

Chamberlain  :  i.  3(34),  4(28)  ;  ii.  2(28),  3(22)  ;  iii.  2(19);  v.  3(1),  4(18). 
Whole  no.  150. 

Chancellor  :  v.  3(32).     Whole  no.  32. 

Gardiner:  ii.  2(2) ;  v.  1(42),  3(47).     Whole  no.  91. 

Lincoln  :  ii.  4(8).     Whole  no.  8. 


214 


ADDENDA. 


Abergavenny:  i.  I(l8).     Whole  no.  18. 

Sands  :  i.  3(21),  4(27).     Whole  no.  48. 

Guild  ford:  i.  4(9).     Whole  no.  9. 

Lovell:  i.  3(27),  4(4)  ;  ii.  1(6) ;  v.  1(31).     Whole  no.  68. 


Denny  :  v.  1(4).     Whole  no.  4. 
Vaux:  ii.  1(4).     Whole  no.  4. 
1st  Secretary:  i.  1(2).     Whole  no.  2. 
Brandon :  i.  1(14).     Whole  no.  14. 
Cromwell :  iii.  2(29)  ;  v.  3(20).     Whole  no.  49. 
Griffith  :  ii.  4(1)  ;  iv.  2(58).     Whole  no.  59. 
Butts  :  v.  2(9).     Whole  no.  9. 
Surveyor:  i.  2(61).     Whole  no.  61. 

\st  Gentleman:  ii.  1(67);  iii.  1(3)  ;  iv.  1(41) ;  v.  1(1).    Whole  no.  112. 
2d  Gentleman:  ii.  1(44);  iv.  1(44).     Whole  no.  88. 
yi  Gentleman  :  iv.  1(57).     Whole  no.  57. 
Sergeant:  i.  1(5).     Whole  no.  5. 
Servant :  i.  4(4).     Whole  no.  4. 
Scribe:  ii.  4(4).     Whole  no.  4. 
Crier  :  ii.  4(3).     Whole  no.  3. 
Messenger:  iv.  2(4).     Whole  no.  4. 
Keeper:  v.  2(3),  3(4).     Whole  no.  7. 
Porter:  v.  4(36).     Whole  no.  36. 
Man:  v.  4(41).     Whole  no.  41. 
Garter:  v.  5(4).     Whole  no.  4. 
Boy  :  v.  1(1).     Whole  no.  i. 

Queen  Katherine  :  i.  2(53) ;  ii.  4(86)  ;  iii.  l(l2i)  ;  iv.  2(114).  Whole 
no  374. 

Anne  Bullen  :  i.  4(4)  ;  ii.  3(54).     Whole  no.  58. 

Patience  :  iii.  1(12) ;  iv.  2(6).     Whole  no.  18. 

Old  Lady:  ii.  3(51)  ;  v.  1(17).     Whole  no.  68. 

"  Within":  v.  4(3).     Whole  no.  3. 

"  All":  i.  2(1)  ;  v.  3(1).     Whole  no,  2. 

"Prologue":  (32). 

"Epilogue":  (14). 

In  the  above  enumeration,  parts  of  lines  are  counted  as  whole  lines, 
making  the  total  in  the  play  greater  than  it  is.  The  actual  number  of 
lines  in  each  scene  is  as  follows  :  Prol.  32  ;  i.  1(226),  2(214),  3(67),  4(108) ; 
ii.  1(169),  2(144),  3(107),  4(241);  iii-  1(184),  2(460);  iv.  1(117),  2(173); 
v.  1(177),  2(35),  3(182),  4(94),  5(77)  ;  epil.  14.  Whole  number  in  the 
play,  2821. 


INDEX   OF  WORDS  AND   PHRASES 
EXPLAINED. 


Aberga'ny,  161. 

by  day  and  night,  165. 

derive,  177- 

abhor  (—  detestor),  178. 

device,  160. 

able,  175. 

Campeius,  174. 

digest,  183. 

abode  (—  bode),  159. 

can,  197. 

discerner,  157. 

advertise  (accent),  179- 

capable  of  our  flesh,  200. 

Dunstable,  191. 

advised(   ;  considerate),  160. 

Capucius,  196. 

Afflictions   (  quadrisyllable  ), 

carry  (=manage),  159,  163. 

Ego  et  rex  meus,  188. 

182. 

Cawood  Castle,  193. 

element,  158. 

Alencon,  Duchess  of,  184. 
all  the  whole,  157. 

censure,  157. 
certes,  158- 

emballing,  176. 
envy  (-  malice),    172,   174 

allay,  173. 

chambers  (=guns),  9,  170. 

182. 

allowed  (^approved),  163. 

Charter-house,  161. 

equal  (adverb),  160. 

amen  (play  upon?),  183. 

Chartreux,  161. 

equal  (--impartial),  174. 

Ampthill,  191. 

chattels,  188. 

estate  (—state),  174,  197. 

Andren,  156. 

cherubin,  157. 

even  (^consistent),  182. 

angels  (play  upon?),  182. 
an't,  170. 

cheveril,  175. 
chiding,  186. 

evils  (=foricse),  172. 
exceeding  (adverb),  196. 

apostle  spoons,  201. 

chine,  203. 

exclamation  (—outcry),  162 

Arde,  156. 

choice  (=rchosen),  164. 

as  (=a«  if),  157,  181. 
Asher  (=Esher),  186. 

Cinque-ports,  193. 
clerks  (—clergy),  174. 

fail  (=die),  164. 
faint  (=make  faint),  176. 

aspect  (accent),  189. 
at  this  present,  200. 

clinquant,  157. 
Clotharius,  165. 

fair  conceit,  176. 
fierce  (^extreme),  158. 

attach  (^arrest),  161. 

clubs,  204. 

file  (=list),  158,  162. 

avaunt,  175 

coast,  183. 

file  (verb),  185. 

avoid,  197. 

Colbrand,  203. 

fire-drake,  204. 

collars  of  SS,  193. 

first  good  company,  16^ 

baiting  of  bombards,  205. 
banquet.  204. 
be  what  they  will,  200. 

colour  (^pretext),  160. 
commission  (quadrisyllable), 
177. 

fool  and  feather,  165 
foot  (=feet),  203. 
for  (:=as),  177. 

been  (omitted),  185. 
beholding  (^beholden),  169, 

2OI- 

compell'd  (accent),  176. 
complete  (accent),  163,  183. 
conceit.  176. 

for  (=as  regards),  1  73. 
for  (omitted),  172. 
force  (^hesitate),  195. 

below  the  moon,  185. 

conceive,  163. 

force  (=urge),  183. 

beneficial  (^beneficent),  1  58. 

confe'deracy,  162. 

fore,  178. 

beshrew,  175. 

confessor  (accent),  164 

foresaid,  160. 

Bevis,  157. 

consistory,  178. 

forge,  164. 

bevy,  169. 

convent  (  =summon),  197. 

forty  (indefinite),  187. 

blistered  (=pufFed),  165. 

cope  (^encounter),  163. 

forty  pence,  176 

Bohun,  172. 

corrupt  (accent),  198. 

free  (adverb),  172. 

boldened,  162. 

covent  (   -convent),  195. 

from  (=of  ),  187. 

book  (—learning),  159. 

cum  privilegio,  165. 

bore  (—undermine),  160. 

gaping  (=shouting),  203. 

both  (transposed),  200. 

danger  (personified),  162. 

Garter,  193,  212 

bowls,  standing,  205. 

dare  (larks),  187. 

gave  their  free  voices,  174 

brazier,  204. 

deliver  (=relate),  163,  176. 

give  way  to,  183. 

break  with,  197. 

demure.  164. 

glistering,  175. 

Butt»  Doctor,  199. 

Denny,  Sir  Anthony,  197. 

gossip,  205. 

2  1 6     INDEX  OF  WORDS  AND  PHRASES  EXPLAINED. 


go  to,  174. 
guarded  (  —  trimmed),  156. 
Guy,  Sir,  203. 

loose,  173,  204. 
lop  (noun),  163. 
lose  me,  172. 

part  (=share),  199. 
passages  (  —approaches),  1  78, 
Paul's  (pronunciation),  203. 

Guynes,  156. 

Pepin,  165. 

maidenhead,  175. 

period  (=end),  164. 

halidorr..  198. 

main  assent,  192. 

perked  up,  1  75. 

happily  (=  haply),  193- 
happily  (-luckily),  198. 
happy  (—favourable),  156. 

manage  (noun),  200. 
marry  (=Mary),  159. 
Marshalsea.  205. 

phisnomy,  167. 
phoenix,  206. 
pick  (=pitch),  205. 

happy  (--  promising),  205. 
hard  (dissyllable),  184. 

may  (  —  can),  179. 
May-day,  203. 

pillars  (of  a  cardinal),  176, 
189,  190. 

hard-ruled.  184. 

mean  (=means),  201. 

pinked,  204. 

has  (—he  has).  166,  206. 

measure  (=dance),  170. 

pitch  (=height),  173. 

have-at-him,  174. 
having  (  —  possession  ),  175, 

memorize,  183. 
mere«<=absolute),  188,  193. 

place  (=rankl,  174,  178. 
plain-song,  165. 

185. 

mincing;  175. 

please  you,  162. 

-head  (  —  -hood),  175. 

mind  (—memory),  185. 

practice  (^artifice),  160,198. 

hedge,  183. 

mistaken,  160. 

praemunire,  188. 

Henton,  Nicholas,  163. 

model  (=  image),  196. 

prayers  (dissyllable),  172. 

hire  (dissyllable),  176. 

modesty    (  =  moderation  ), 

prefer  (^promote),  193. 

hitting  a  grosser  quality,  163 

196,  200. 

presence  ^presence-cham- 

hold (-hold  good),  173. 

moe,  176,  183. 

ber),  181. 

hours  (dissyllable),  197. 

Montacute,  Lord,  161. 

presence  (=royal  presence), 

hull,  179- 

Moorfields,  204. 

195. 

husband  (=-  manager),  185. 

more  stronger,  160. 

present,  at  this,  200. 

motley,  1  56. 

prime  (=first),  185. 

in  a  little,  172. 

mount  (=  raise),  160,  164. 

primer  (=more  urgent),  162. 

in  open,  189. 

mumchance,  168- 

primero,  197. 

in  proof,  160. 

music  (  -  musicians),  193,  196. 

proper  (ironical),  159. 

incense  (^inform),  197. 
indifferent  (=  impartial),  177. 

my  mind  gave  me,  201. 
mysteries,  165. 

putter-on,  162. 

indurance,  198. 

quarrel  (=quarreller),  175. 

innocent  from,  187. 

naughty  (=wicked),  198. 

innumerable(substance),i88. 

needs,  173. 

range  withhumblelivers,  175. 

instant  (=present,  passing), 

never  so  (=ever  so),  165. 

rank,  164. 

161. 

news  (number),  173. 

rankness,  193. 

is(=:are),  175. 

noise  (=music),  203. 

rate,  185. 

is  run   in  your  displeasure, 

not  ever  (—not  always),  198. 

reek  (of  sighs),  179. 

163. 

not  (transposed),  159,  173. 

refuse  (=recuso),  178. 

issues  (=sons),  187. 

note  (=notice),  158. 

reputed  for,  177. 

nothing  (adverb),  198. 

returned  in  his  opinions,  183. 

jaded  by  a  piece  of  scarlet, 

round  in  the  ear,  168. 

187. 

of  (in  adjurations),  182. 

royal  (=loyal),  191. 

justify  (—prove),  162. 

of  (=from),  205. 

rub  (in  bowling  .  173. 

of  (omitted).  193. 

keech,  158. 

of  (=on),  184,  187. 

Saba,  206. 

Kimbolton,  192. 

omit  (=neglect),  183. 

sad,  high,  and  working.  155. 

knock  it,  170,  212. 

once  (=sometimes),  163. 

salute  my  blood.  176. 

one  the  wisest,  1  78. 

saw  (     saw  each  other),  156 

large  commission,  188. 

on't,  176. 

scarlet  (jiiece  of),  187. 

lay  by,  181. 

open  (^exposed),  173,  189. 

sennet,  176. 

lay  by  the  heels,  205. 

opinion  (^reputation),  156- 

set  on,  1  80. 

lay  upon  my  credit,  187. 
Leicester  Abbey,  193. 

Orpheus,  181 
other  (     anything  else),  166. 

shall  (=should),  163. 
shot  (—shooters),  204. 

leisure,  185. 

should,  186- 

letters  patents,  187. 

pain  (=pains),  184. 

shrewd  (—evil),  202. 

level  (—aim),  162. 

paned,  167. 

sick  (=  ill  -disposed),  i6j. 

lie  (=reside),  192. 
like  (impersonal),  159. 

panging,  175. 
paper  (verb),  158. 

sign  (=show),  178. 
single  heart,  200. 

Limb".      4 

paragon  (verb),  179 

Sir  Guy,  203. 

Limbs  of  Limehouse,  204. 

pared  my  havings,  185. 

so(      jr. 

line  (     equator),  204. 

Parish  Garden,  2  2 

so  (—in  so  far  as).  185. 

long  (-belong),  162,  176. 

part  (     depart),  182,  193. 

something  (adverb),  160. 

JXDEX  OF  WORDS  AND  PHRASES  EXPLAINED. 


217 


sometimes  (-  formerly),  179. 

that  (omitted),  181. 

visitation  (^visit),  160,  199. 

sooth  (-truth),  175 
sound  (     proclaim  I,  199. 

that  (     so  that),  157. 
the  which,  175,  178. 

visnomy,  167. 
vizard,  196. 

speak  (  —  vouch  tor),  178. 

this  ni.ii.'. 

speak  \                       iSj,  195. 

threepence  bowed,  175. 

ween,  198. 

spinstei 

throu.ul'1 

weigh  (  -  value),  198. 

.     l|'ostle,  2OI. 

to  (    against),  184. 

wench,  181. 

SS,  collars  of.  193. 

to  (omitted  and  inserted), 

wh.it  i     who),  164. 

stand  on.  i.|S 
standing  bowls,  205. 
state  (     canopy),  169. 

177.  106, 
to  '     with),  204. 
tomb  (of  tears),  189. 

Whitehall,  166. 
who  (omitted),  184,  193,201 
whoever  (^whomsoever) 

fst.itel,   174. 

U>l>-pl  oud.   K»I. 

172. 

thione),  162. 

trace  (     follow),  183. 

will  (     would),  163. 

still  5     ever  .  175. 

tract,  157. 

win  the  work,  204. 

stir  against, 

trade.  n)j.                                    wit  (noun),  182. 

stonudi  (     pride),  195. 
stood  to,  1  78.  * 

trembling,  163.                           wit  (verb),  185. 
Tribulation  of  Tower  Hill,     with  l^bv).  icn- 

stranger  (=   alien),  175 

204. 

withal,  185. 

strove  (     striveni,  177. 

trip,  196. 

without  all  doubt,  193. 

such  which.  162. 

true  condition,  162. 

witness,  198. 

sufferance  (—suffering),  175, 
197. 

undertakes  (    takes  charge 

women  (accent),  207. 
worship,  157. 

suggest  (—tempt),  160. 

of),  172. 

wot,  1  8$. 

suggestion.  1^5 

unhappily.  170. 

wrenching  (=rinsing  ?),  160 

superstitious,  182. 

impartial,  174. 

wrought  (  —  manoeuvred 

tell  (=count).  162. 

umvit,  i8«. 
unwittingly.  185. 

1  88. 

temperance'  =  patience),  160 

upon  our  tail,  163. 

y'are,  169. 

tendance,  185. 
tender  (=value).  178. 

use  (     interest),  190. 

ye,  173,  182. 
yet  (transposed),  179. 

.ennis,  165. 

Vaux,  Sir  Nicholas,  172. 

York-place,  166. 

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