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niustrated. 12mo, Cloth, 56 cents per volume. 

The Merchant of Venice. 
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Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, 5O cents per volume. 

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

Henry VIII. 
XV. P. 7 







ACT I : 47 

" II 71 

" III 95 

"IV, 118 

V. 131 

NOTES 155 






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 


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. 


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 y 1 ' 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 

" 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. 


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 


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. 


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 


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 





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


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. 





[From Mrs. Jamesorfs " Characteristics ofWomen"~\ 


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. 


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 


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. 


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. 


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, 


* 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 


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 


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. 


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 


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 


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 : 


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 


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!- 


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- 



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- 

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. 


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. 


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- 

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. 


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. 


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


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

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 


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 


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 

* 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. 


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 


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. 


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. 


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 : 


" 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: Shakspere t \*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. 



CAPUCIUS, Ambassador from Charles V. 
CRANMER, Archbishop ot Canterbury. 
Lord Chamberlain. 
Lord Chancellor. 

GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester. 
Bishop of Lincoln. 
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 



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 


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 : 3 o 

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

A man may weep upon his wedding day. 



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

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


Buckingham. Good morrow, and well met. How have 

ye done 
Since last we saw in France ? 


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 


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 



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, 


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. 


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 ; 



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- 


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 


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. Sir v 

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. 


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 > 

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. 


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 

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 


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 


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, 


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 



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 


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 we r 

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 


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. 


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, 


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.' 


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 

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. 


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 ? 


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 


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 5 o 

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, 



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

Sands. I am your lordship's. 


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 


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. 


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. 


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 


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, 


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 

The Viscount Rochforcl, one of her highness' women. 

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


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 


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 


SCENE I. A Street. 

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


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. 



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, 4 o 
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 


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 ; 


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 


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 ; 



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 


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' 


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

He will have all, I think. 10 


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 ! 


Norfolk. Pray God he be not angry ! 

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


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 ! 


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 

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- 

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- 
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- 

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. 




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 


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. 


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 

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 


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. 


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 ? 


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 


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 


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, 


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, 


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 


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 o 1 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, 



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 



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

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. 



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. 


Wolsty. Peace to your highness. 

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

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


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, 



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. 



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 


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 


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 M o 

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, . 5 o 

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. 


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


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. 


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 


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 5 o 


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 ! 



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 


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 

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, 


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? 


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. 

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 


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. 


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


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, 



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, 


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, 4i 

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 


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, 4 3 c 

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' 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 


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


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 


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 ; 3 c 

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


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 


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 

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 5 o 

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- 


\Exit Procession, with a great flourish of trumpets. 

Enter a third Gentleman. 

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


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 


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- 


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, 


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 


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; 


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. 

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 




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, 




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. 

I3 2 KING HENRY /'///. 


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 



Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, 
Sleep ii 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 4 o 

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 


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 ; 


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 7 o 

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. 

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, 


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 ! 



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 

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, 

I3 8 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. 


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 


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 ? 


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 fu i 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 


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, 

I 4 2 


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. 


Enter the King, frowning on them; he takes his seat. 

Gardiner. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound tc 


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- 

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. 


King Henry. Good man ! those joyful tears show thy true 


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 


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 ? 3 o 

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. 


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, 

W T e 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, 


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 


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. 




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. 




Abbott (or Gr.), Abbott's Shakespearian Grammar (third edition 1 . 

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 




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. 


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- 

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- 



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 

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" 

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 to 1 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- 

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 





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. 


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 

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 

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- 

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. 



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 

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. 



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. 


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 


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- 


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 

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, 

1 7 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. 


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 



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. 




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. 


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- 



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 w in not sta nd 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. 



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 bow 1 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 



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. 


[ 7 8 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 



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 

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. 



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 

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. 


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 -work 1 ? "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). 

!8 4 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. To 1 en much pain. Below (v. i. 120) we have " ta'en some pains.' 
See M. of V. p. 140. 

78. O 1 the inside. See Gr. 175. 

85. The Duchess of Alencon. The daughter of Charles of Orleans, 
Count of Angoulme, 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. Par 1 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 ofA 7 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 


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 k 1 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 9 o 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- 

* 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." 





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 



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 

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 




---,: \ 


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 


ACT //'. .SVA-.VA 1 //. 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 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- 

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 

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. 


148. The poorest. Very poor. See Gr. 8 (cf. 92). 
rs. Cf. Han 


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. 


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 

37. Time. The first three folios have "Lime;" corrected in the 4th 

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 

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" 



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 rr*-cl^ . " 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 \. 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 

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. 


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. 
Il r . 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, 

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 day 1 ' (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." 



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." 



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 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. 



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 (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. 


cts from Mr. Spedding's paper (see p. n above) will give the reader 


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 

20 8 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 ' 


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 



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- 


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. 


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) .- 


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. 


" 2. Act II. sc. i.-iii. 
' 3. Act II. sc. iv. 
" 4. Act III. sc.i. . 

" 5. Act III. sc. ii. 

6. Act IV. sc. i. and ii. 

" 7. Act V. sc. i.-v. 

* " It should be short ; for at the end of Act I. sc. ii. the King orders the fi> t stnt 
trial of Buckingham; but as in sc. iv. Henry first makes the acquaintance of Anne, the 
Wlowinj scenes reuuire it to be long." 



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." 

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. 



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. 


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. 


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. 


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), 

fool and feather, 165 
foot (=feet), 203. 
for (:=as), 177. 

been (omitted), 185. 
beholding (^beholden), 169, 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


needs, 173. 

range withhumblelivers, 175. 

instant (=present, passing), 

never so (=ever so), 165. 

rank, 164. 


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. 


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. 


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. 



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. 


throu.ul' 1 

weigh ( - value), 198. 

. l|'ostle, 2OI. 

to ( against), 184. 

wench, 181. 

SS, collars of. 193. 

to (omitted and inserted), 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. KI. 


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 


withal, 185. 

strove ( striveni, 177. 

trip, 196. 

without all doubt, 193. 

such which. 162. 

true condition, 162. 

witness, 198. 

sufferance (suffering), 175, 

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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