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SHAKESPEARE'S
KING HENRY THE EIGHTH
INTRODUCTION, AND NOTES EXPLANATORY AND CRITICAL.
FOJ^ USE IN SCHOOLS AND FAMILIES
Rev. henry N; HUDSON, LL D
GINN & COMPANY
BOSTON • NEW YORK • CHICAGO LONDON
Li 6 H Ai? Y ot 00 1\ i^ » ESS. IwoGoojes rtetevcH-
OCT 3 i^ua
T7Ta?/7
-thakospeariana
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year i88o, bj
Henry N. Hudson,
in the ofiRce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington
2e.7
Vbe satiiensuni 30rtss
GINN &• COMPANY ■ PKO- PRIETORS • BOSTON • U.S.A.
INTRODUCTION.
History of the Play.
KING HENRY THE EIGHTH was undoubtedly among tlie latest of the Poet's writing : Mr. Grant White thinks it was the very last ; nor am I aware of any thing that can be soundly alleged against that opinion. The play was never printed till in the folio of 1623. It is first heard of in connection with the burning of the Globe theatre on the 29th of June, 1613 : at least I am fully satisfied that this IS the piece which was on the stage at that time. Howes the chronicler, recording the event some time after It occurred, speaks of "the house being filled with people to behold the play of Henry the Eighth." And we have a letter from Thomas Lorkin to Sir Thomas Puckering, dated " London, this last of June," with the following : " No loncrer since than yesterday, while Burbage's company were actrn- at the Globe the play of Henry the Eighth, and there shooting off certam chambers in way of triumph, the fire catched and fastened upon the thatch of the house, and there burned so lunously, as it consumed the whole house." But the most particular account is in a letter from Sir Henry Wotton to his nephew, dated July 2, 1613 : "Now, to let matters of State sleep, I will entertain you at the present with what happened this week at the Bankside. The King's Players had a new play called All is True, representing some principal pieces in the reign of Henry the Eighth, which was set forth with
4 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
many extraordinary circumstances of pomp and majesty. Now King Henry making a masque 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 Hght 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 within less than an hour the whole house to the very ground. This was the fatal period of that virtuous fabric ; wherein yet nothing did perish but wood and straw, and a few forsaken cloaks."
Some of the circumstances here specified clearly point to the play which has come down to us as Shakespeare's. Sir Henry, to be sure, speaks of the piece by the title ^'All IS True'' ; but the other two authorities describe it as "the play of Henry the Eighth T And it is worth noting that Lorkin, in stating the cause of the fire, uses the very word, chambers, which is used in the original stage-direction of the play. So that the discrepancies in regard to the name infer no more than that the play then had a double title, as many other plays also had. And the name used by Sir Henry is unequivocally referred to in the Prologue, the whole argu- ment of which turns upon the quality of the piece as being true. Then too the whole play, as regards the kind of in- terest sought to be awakened, is strictly correspondent with what the Prologue claims in that behalf : a scrupulous fidelity to Fact is manifestly the law of the piece ; as if the author had here undertaken to set forth a drama made up emphati- cally of '' chosen truth," insomuch that it might justly bear the significant title All is True.
The piece in performance at the burning of the Globe theatre is described by Wotton as a 7icw play ; and it will
INTRODUCTION. 5
hardly be questioned that he knew well what he was saying. The internal evidence of the piece itself all draws to the same conclusion as to the time of writing. In that part of Cranmer's prophecy which refers to King James, we have these hnes :
Wherever the bright Sun of heaven shall shine, The 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.
On a portrait of King James once owned by Lord Bacon, the King is styled hnperii Atlantici Conditor, And all agree that the first allusion in the lines just quoted is to the founding of the colony in Virginia, the charter of which was renewed in 1612, the chief settlement named Jamestown, and a lottery opened in aid of the colonists. The last part of the quotation probably refers to the marriage of the King's daughter Elizabeth with the Elector Palatine, which took place in February, 16 13. The marriage was a theme of intense joy and high anticipations to the English people, as it seemed to knit them up with the Protestant interest of Germany ; anticipations destined indeed to a sad reverse in the calamities that fell upon the Elector's House. Con- current with these notes of seeming allusion to passing events, are the style, language, and versification ; in which respects it is hardly distinguishable from Coriolanus and the other plays known to have been of the Poet's latest period.
All which considered, I am quite at a loss why so many editors and critics should have ([uestioned whether Shake- speare's drama were the one in performance at the burning of the Globe theatre. They have done this partly under the assumption that Shakespeare's play could not have been new
O KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
at that time. But I cannot find such assumption at all sustained by any arguments they have produced. It is true, a piece described as " The Interlude of King Henry the Eighth " was entered at the Stationers' in February, 1605. There is, however, no good reason for ascribing this piece to Shakespeare : on the contrary, there is ample reason for supposing it to have been a play by Samuel Rowley, en- titled " When you see me you know me, or the famous chronicle history of King Henry the Eighth," and published in 1605.
Some, again, urge that Shakespeare's play must have been written before the death of Elizabeth, which was in March, 1603. This is done on the ground that the Poet would not have been likely to glorify her reign so largely after her death. And because it is still less Hkely that during her life he would have glorified so highly the reign of her successor, therefore resort is had to the theory, that in 1613 the play was revived under a new title, which led Wotton to think it a new play, and that the Prologue was then written, and the passage referring to James interpolated. But all this is sheer conjecture, and is directly refuted by the Prologue itself, which clearly supposes the forthcoming play to be then in performance for the first time, and the nature and plan of it to be wholly unkno^vn to the audience : to tell the people they were not about to hear
A noise of targets, or to see a fellow
In a long motley coat guarded with yellow,
had been flat impertinence in case of a play that had been on the stage several years before. As to the passage touch- ing James, I can perceive no such signs as have been alleged of its being an after-insertion : the awkardness of connection,
INTRODUCTION. 7
which has been affirmed as betraying a second hand or a second time, is altogether imaginary : the hnes knit in as smoothly and as logically with the context, before and after, as any other lines in the speech.
Nor can I discover any indications of the play's having been written with any special thought of pleasing Elizabeth. The design, so far as she is concerned, seems much rather to have been to please the people, by whom she was all- beloved during her life, and, if possible, still more so when, after the lapse of a few years, her prudence, her courage, and her magnanimity save where her female jealousies were touched, had been set off by the blunders and infirmities of her successor. For it is well known that the popular feel- ing ran back so strongly to her government, that James had no way but to fall in with the current, notwithstanding the strong causes which he had, both public and personal, to execrate her memory. The play has an evident making in with this feeling, unsolicitous, generally, of what would have been likely to make in, and sometimes boldly adventurous of what would have been sure to make out, with the ol)ject of it. Such an appreciative delineation of the meek and honourable sorrows of Catharine, so nobly proud, yet in that pride so gentle and true-hearted ; her dignified submission, wherein her rights as a woman and a wife are firmly and sweetly asserted, yet the sharpest eye cannot detect the least swerving from duty ; her brave and eloquent sympathy with the plundered people, pleading their cause in the face of royal and reverend rapacity, this too with an energetic sim- plicity which even the witchcraft of Wolsey's tongue cannot sophisticate ; and all this set in open contrast with the worldly-minded levity, and the equivocal or at least quaHfied virtue, of her rival, and with the headstrong, high-handed,
8 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
conscience-shamming selfishness of the King ; — surely the Poet must have known a great deal less, or a great deal more, than anybody else, of the haughty daughter of that rival and that King, to have thought of pleasing her by such a representation.
Historic Basis of the Action.
The historical matter of the play, so far as relates to the fall of Wolsey and the divorce of Catharine, was derived, originally, from George Cavendish, who was gentleman-usher to the great Cardinal, and himself an eye-witness of much that he describes. His Life of Master Wolsey is among the best specimens extant of the older English literature ; the narrative being set forth in a clear, simple, manly eloquence, which the Poet, in some of his finest passages, almost hterally transcribed. Whether the book had been printed in Shake- speare's time, is uncertain ; but so much of it as fell within the plot of the drama had been embodied in the chronicles of Holinshed and Stowe. In the fifth Act, the incidents, and in many cases the very words, are taken from Fox the martyrologist, whose Acts and Monuments of the Churchy first published in 1563, had grown to be a very popular book in the Poet's time.
The " fierce vanities " displayed in the Field of the Cloth of Gold, with an account of which the play opens, occurred in June, 1520, and the death of Buckingham in May, 1521. The court assembled for the divorce began its work on the 1 8th of June, 1529, and was dissolved, without concluding any thing, on the 23d of July. On the i yth of October fol- lowing, Wolsey resigned the Great Seal, and died on the 29th of November, 1530. In July, 153 1, Catharine withdrew from the Court, and took up her abode at Ampthill. Long
INTRODUCTION. 9
before this time, the King had been trying to persuade Anne Boleyn, one of the Queen's Maids of Honour, to be a sort of left-hand wife to him ; but an older sister of hers had already held that place, and had enough of it : so she was resolved to be his right-hand wife or none at all ; and, as the Queen would not recede from her appeal to the Pope, Anne still held off till she should have more assurance of the divorce being carried through. In September, 1532, she was made Marchioness of Pembroke, and was privately married to the King on the 25th of January, 1533. Cranmer became Archbishop of Canterbury the next March, and went directly about the business of the divorce, which was fmishL'd on the 24th of May. This was followed, in June, by the coronation of the new Queen, and in September by the birth and christening of the Princess Elizabeth. Soon after the divorce, Catharine removed to Kimbolton, where, in the course of the next year, 1534, she had to digest the slaugh- ter of her steadfast friends, Fisher and More ; as the peculiar temper of the King, being then without the eloquence of the great Cardinal or the virtue of the good (^ueen to assuage it, could no longer be withheld from such repasts of blood. Catharine died on the 8th of January, 1536, which was some two years and four months after the birth of Elizabeth. The play, however, reverses the order of these two events. As for the matter of Cranmer and the Privy Council, in Act v., this did not take place till 1544, more than eleven years after the event with which the play closes.
Authorship of the Play.
Dr. Johnson gave it as his opinion tliat the Prologue and Epilogue of this play were not written by Shakespeare. And I believe all the critics who have since given any special heed
lO KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
to the matter have joined in that opinion. I have not for many years had the shghtest doubt on the subject. And I am equally clear in the same opinion touching the Epilogues to The Tei?ipest and Kiiig Hejtry the Fourth, and the Chorus to the fourth Act of The IViiiter's Tale, Nor, in- deed, does it seem possible that any one having a right taste for Shakespeare should judge otherwise, after compar- ing those pieces with the Induction to the Second Part of He7iry the Fourth, and the Choruses in King Henry the Fifth ; all which ring the true Shakespearian gold for work- manship in that kind. It vv^as very common for the dramatic writers of the time to have such trimmings of their plays done by some friend. Who wrote the Prologue and Epilogue to Henry the Eightli has been somewhat in question. The well- known intimacy and friendship between Jonson and Shake- speare have naturally drawn men's thoughts to honest Ben as the author of them : but, as the style answers equally well to the motions of another hand ; and as we have unquestionable marks of another hand in the body of the play ; a conjectura ascription of the matter to Jonson is not properly in order.
It is now, I think, as good as settled that this play was the joint production of Shakespeare and John Fletcher ; some- what more than half of it belonging to the latter. Dr. John- son had the sagacity to observe that the genius of Shake- speare comes in and goes out with Catharine ; and that the rest of the play might be easily conceived and easily written. But this germ of criticism did not grow to any tangible results till our own day. As far back, however, as 1850, Mr. James Spedding, a critic of approved perspicacity and judgment, published an article in The Gentleman'' s Magazi^ie, discours- ing the theme with lucid statement and cogent argument ; and all the more satisfactory, that it lands in definite and
INTRODUCTION. II
well-braced conclusions. On the appearance of this article, Mr. Samuel Hickson, another discriminating and judicious critic, put forth a brief paper in Notes a?id Queries, express- ing an entire concurrence with Mr. Spedding, and also saying that he had readied the same conclusion three or four years before ; this too without having any communication with him, or any knowledge of him, even of his name ; but that the want of a favourable opportunity had kept him from making his thoughts known. Nor was this a mere general con- currence : it was an entire agreement in the details, and ex- tending even to the assignment of scenes and parts of scenes to their respective authors. Still more recently, Mr. F. G. Fleay has brought his metrical tests and his figures to bear upon the question; and the result is a full confirmation both of the general and the particular conclusions reached by the two other gentlemen.
Of course the evidence on which this judgment proceeds is altogether internal, as the play has come down to us with- out any outside tokens or suggestions of another hand than Shakespeare's in the making of it. And the most striking and available parts of that evidence, though not the strongest, have reference to the qualities of style and versification. But Fletcher's peculiarities in this point are so strongly marked ; rather say, he has an habitual mannerism of diction and metre so pronounced ; that no one thoroughly at home in his acknowledged workmanship can easily fail to taste his presence in whatever he wrote : and, as certain portions of the play in hand have the full measure of his idiom in those respects, so it is nowise strange that several critics, once started on the track, should all tie up in the same result.
For my own part, I have slowly and reluctantly grown, or been drawn, into the same upshot with the writers named,
12 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
and am now thoroughly satisfied that the conclusion they have reached is substantially right. The details of this con- clusion are as follows: — That the first and second scenes of Act i. are Shakespeare's ; also the third and fourth scenes of Act ii. ; also about three sevenths of the second scene in Act iii., down to the King's parting from Wolsey with the words, " and then to breakfast with what appetite you have " ; also the first scene of Act v. : and that all the rest of the play is Fletcher's ; namely, the third and fourth scenes of Act i., the first and second of Act ii., the first, and about four sevenths of the second in Act iii., the whole of Act iv., the second, third, and fourth of Act v., also the Prologue and Epilogue. Mr. Fleay makes the whole number of blank- verse lines in the play to be 2613, of which 1467 are Fletch- er's, thus leaving only 1146 to Shakespeare.
From the forecited distribution I see no reason to dissent, except that, as Mr. Spedding admits, some of the portions assigned to Fletcher have traces of a superior workman. In particular, the latter part of the second scene in Act iii., all after the exit of the King, seems to me a mixture of Fletcher and Shakespeare : though the Fletcher element prepon- derates, still I feel some decided workings of the master- hand. The same, though in a somewhat less degree, of the coronation scene, the first in Act iv. Certainly, if Fletcher wrote the whole of these, he must have been, for the time, surprised out of himself, and lifted quite above his ordinary plane ; even the best that he does elsewhere giving no promise of such touches as we find here. On the other hand, I doubt whether the first scene of Act v. be pure Shakespeare : at all events, it seems by no means equal to his other portions of the play. And, as the two authors probably wrote in conjunction, it might well be that some
INTRODUCTION.
13
whole scenes were done by each, wliile in others their hands worked together, or the one revised and finished what the other had first written ; thus giving us choice bits of Shake- spearian gold mingled with the Fletcherian silver.
Mr. Spedding's essay is so fine a piece of criticism in itself, so calm and just in temper, and withal cuts so near the heart of the subject, that I cannot well resist the impulse to reproduce a considerable portion of it. After a clear state- ment of his conclusion, together with the grounds of it, he proceeds as follows :
The opening of the play — the conversation between Bucking- ham, Norfolk, and Abergavenny — seemed to have the full stamp of Shakespeare, 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 impatient activity of intel- lect 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 disdains 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 distinguish the magical hand which has never yet been successfully imitated.
In the scene in the Council-chamber which follows, where the characters of Catharine 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 Chambedain, Lord Sands, and Lovell converse, I was conscious 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 conventional mode of conversation. The structure of the verse was quite different, and full of mannerism. The expression
14 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
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 Shakespeare. 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 with the Henry and Wolsey of the Coun- cil-chamber, I perceived a difference scarcely less striking. The dialogue, through the whole scene, sounded still slow and arti- ficial.
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 Boleyn appears, I may say for the first time, for in the supper-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 insignifi- cant passage contains all that we ever see of Anne, 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, (Act i. scene 2,) I found that it corresponded in all essential features*: when I compared it
INTRODUCTION. I5
with their language in the second scene of the second Act, I perceived that it was altogether different. Catharine also, as she appears in this scene, was exactly the same person as she was in the Council-chamber ; but, when I went on to the first scene of the third Act, which represents her interview with Wolsey and Campeius, I found her as much changed as Buckingham was after his sentence, though without any alteration of circum- stances 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, with- out a single feature that reminded me of Shakespeare ; and, since in both passages 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, (Act iii. scene 2,) I seemed again to get out of Fletcher into Shakespeare ; though probably not into Shakespeare pure ; a scene by another hand perhaps, which Shakespeare had only remodelled, or a scene by Shakespeare which another hand had worked upon to make it fit the place. The speeches interchanged between Henry and Wolsey seemed to be entirely Shakespeare'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," &c., though asso- ciated by means of Enfield'' s Speaker with my earliest notions ot Shakespeare, it appeared (now that my mind was opened to entertain 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 of 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 Shake- speare. It was pathetic and graceful, but one could see how it
l6 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
was done. Catharine\s last speeclics, however, smacked strongly again of Fletcher. And, all together, 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 a hand in it.
The first scene of the fifth Act, and the opening of the second, I should again have confidently ascribed to Shakespeare, were it not that the whole passage seemed so strangely out of place. I could only suppose that the task of putting the whole together had been left to an inferior hand ; in which case I should con- sider this to be a genuine piece of Shakespeare^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 Shakespeare'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 regards the point of diction and metre, the argument turns very much upon the use of verses with a redundant syllable at the end, or what are commonly called lines with double endings, but what I sometimes designate as lines with amphibractic endings. This, at all events, is the handiest, and perhaps the most telHng, item to be urged in illustration of the point. And here it will not be out of place to observe that Shakespeare's regular verse is the iambic pentameter. This, however, he continually diversi- fies with metrical irregularities, introducing trochees, spon- dees, anapests, dibrachs, tribrachs, and sometimes dactyls, in various parts of his lines. But his most frequent irregularity is by ending his verses with amphibrachs ; and this occurs much oftener in his later plays tlian in his earlier ; and in some of his plays, as in the Shakespeare portions of the
INTRODUCTION. 1 7
one now in hand, we have al)out one third of the lines ending with ami)hibrachs. The purpose of this is, to prevent or avoid monotony ; just as great composers enrich and deepen their harmonies by a skilful use of discords. Now Fletcher's use of this irregularity is far more frequent than Shakespeare's : commonly not less than two thirds of his lines, and often a larger proportion, having amphibractic endings. So excessive is this usage with him, that, besides rendering the movement of his verse comparatively feeble and languid, it becomes a very emphatic mannerism : in fact, it just works the irregularity itself into a new monotony, and a m.onotony of the most soporific kind. For nothing has so much the effect of a wearisome sameness as a con- tinual or too frequent recurrence of the same variation : even the studied and uniform regularity, or what Cowper terms ^^the creamy smoothness," of Pope's versification is less monotonous to the ear, than such an over-use of one and the same mode of diversity. And this, together with certain other traits of style and diction not easy to describe, imparts to Fletcher's verse a very peculiar and rather heavy swing and cadence, often amounting to downright sing-song and humdrum. Many times, in reading him, I have, almost before I knew it, caught my thoughts drowsing off into a half-somnolent state, from this constant and uniform oscilla- tion, so to speak, of his language and metre. Vastly differ- ent is all this in Shakespeare ; whose metrical irregularities are always so ordered as to have the effect of jogging the attention into alertness and keeping it freshly awake.
To make the point clear to the apprehension of average readers, I will next produce several of Fletcher's best and most characteristic passages ; enough to give a full and fiiir taste of his habitual manner. The first is from The Knii^/il
l8 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
of Malta, ii. 5, where Oriana, the heroine, being falsely accused of crime, and sentenced to die, unless a champion appear and vindicate her honour in single combat, makes the following speech as she goes up to the scaffold :
Thus I ascend ; nearer, I hope, to Heaven !
Nor do I fear to tread this dark black mansion,
The image of my grave : each foot we move
Goes to it still, each hour we leave behind us
Knolls sadly toward it. — My noble brother, —
For yet mine innocence dares call you so, —
And you the friends to virtue, that come hither,
The chorus to this tragic scene, behold me,
Behold me with your justice, not with pity,
(My cause was ne'er so poor to ask compassion,)
Behold me in this spotless white I wear.
The emblem of my life, of all my actions ;
So ye shall find my story, though I perish.
Behold me in my sex : I am no soldier ;
Tender and full of fears our blushing sex is,
Unharden'd with relentless thoughts ; unhatcht
With blood and bloody practice : alas, we tremble
But when an angry dream afflicts our fancies ;
Die with a tale well told. Had I been practised,
And known the way of mischief, travell'd in it.
And given my blood and honour up to reach it ;
Forgot religion, and the line I sprung on :
O Heaven ! I had been fit then for Thy justice,
And then in black, as dark as Hell, I had howl'd here.
Last, in your own opinions weigh mine innocence:
Amongst ye I was planted from an infant,
(Would then, if Heaven had so been pleased, I had perish'd),
Grew up, and goodly, ready to bear fruit,
The honourable fruit of marriage :
And am I blasted in my bud with treason?
Boldly and basely of my fair name ravish'd,
And hither brought to find my rest in ruin?
But He that knows all. He that rights all wrongs,
And in His time restores, knows me ! — I've spoken.
The next is the main part of two speeches made by
INTRODUCTION. ig
Caesar, with Pompey's lifeless head before him, in T/ie False One, ii. i :
Thou glory of the world once, now the pity, Thou awe of nations, wherefore didst thou fall thus? What poor fate follow'd thee, and pluck'd thee on, To trust thy sacred life to an Egyptian? The light and life of Rome o a blind stranger, That honourable war ne'er taught a nobleness, Nor worthy circumstance shew'd what a man was? That never heard thy name sung but in banquets, And loose lascivi ^us pleasures to a boy, That had no faith to comprehend thy greatness, No study of thy life, to know thy goodness? And leave thy nation, nay, thy noble friend, Leave him distrusted, that in tears falls with thee, In soft relenting tears? Hear me, great Pompey ; If thy great spirit can hear, I must task thee! Thou hast most unnobly robb'd me of my victory, My love and mercy.
Ptol, Hear me, great Cassar !
^^^(^^' I have heard too much :
And study not with smooth shows to invade My noble mind, as you have done my conquest. You're poor and open : I must tell you roundly. That man that could not recompense the benefits. The great and bounteous services, of Pompey, Can never dote upon the name of Cresar. Though I had hated Pompey, and allow'd his ruin, I gave you no commission to perform it : Hasty to please in blood are seldom trusty; And, but I stand environ'd with my victories, My fortune never failing to befriend me. My noble strengths and friends about my person, I durst not try you, nor expect a courtesy Above the pious love you shew'd to Pompey. You've found me merciful in arguing with ye : Swords, hangmen, fires, destructions of all natures, Demolishments of kingdoms, and whole ruins. Are wont to be my orators. Turn to tears,
20 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
You wretched and poor seeds of sun-burnt Egypt; And, now you've found the nature of a conqueror That you cannot decline, with all your flatteries ; That, where the day gives light, will be himself still ; Know how to meet his worth with humane courtesies! Go, and embalm those bones of that great soldier ; Howl round about his pile, fling on your spices, Make a Saboean bed, and place this phoenix Where the hot Sun may emulate his virtues. And draw another Pompey from his ashes. Divinely great, and fix him 'mongst the Worthies?
The following is one of Lisander's speeches in The Lover'* s, Progress, ii- 3 •
Can Heaven be pleased with these things? To see two hearts that have been twined together, Married in friendship, to the world two wonders. Of one growth, of one nourishment, one health. Thus mortally divorced for one weak woman? Can Love be pleased? Love is a gentle spirit ; The wind that blows the April flowers not softer : She's drawn with doves, to show her peacefulness : Lions and bloody pards are Mars's servants. Would you serve Love? do it with humbleness, Without a noise, with still prayers and soft murmurs : Upon her altars offer your obedience. And not your brawls ; she's won with tears, not terrors : That fire you kindle to her deity. Is only grateful when it's blown with sighs. And holy incense flung with white-hand innocence : You wound her now ; you are too superstitious : No sacrifice of blood or death she longs for.
I add another characteristic strain from the same play^ iv. 4 :
Lisander. Y the depth of meditation, do you not Sometimes think of Olinda?
Lidian. I endeavour
To raze her from my memory, as I wish You would do the whole sex ; for know, Lisander, The greatest curse brave man can labour under
INTRODUCTION. 21
Is the strong witchcnift of a wuinan's eyes. Where I find men, I preaeli this doctrine to 'em : As you're a scholar, knowledge make your mistress, The hidden beauties of the Heavens your study; There shall you find fit wonder for your faith, And for your eye inimitable objects : As you're a profess'd soldier, court your honour ; Though she be stern, she's honest, a brave mistress ! The greater danger you oppose to win her, She shows the sweeter, and rewards the nobler : Woman's best loves to hers mere shadows be ; For after death she weds your memory. These are my contemplations.
In the foregoing extracts we have 114 complete lines, of which 79 end with amphibrachs, thus leaving 35 with iambic endings ; a proportion of something more than two to one. Cranmer's long speech at the close of the play in hand contains 49 lines, of which 34 have amphibractic endings, and 1 5 iambic ; also a proportion of somewhat more than two to one. The average pro[)ortion in Buckingham's three speeches on going to his execution is about the same ; and so through all the Fletcherian portions of the play. Besides this most obvious feature, Fletcher has another trick of mannerism, frequently repeating a thought, or fraction of a thought, with some variation of language ; which imparts a very un-Shakespearian diffuseness to his style, as of an author much more fluent and fertile in words than in matter. This trait also is repeatedly exemplified in the forecited passages : so that, by comparing those passages with the parts of the play ascribed to Fletcher, any one having an eye and an ear for such things can easily identify the two as proceeding from one and the same source.
But the play has another very striking and decided char- acteristic which I was for a long time quite unable to account
22 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
for. The structure and ordering of the piece as a whole is very unKke Shakespeare's usual workmanship, especially that of his closing period. Coleridge aptly notes it as '^ a sort of historical masque or show-play " ; for so, to be sure, it has several masque-like scenes, that interrupt the proper dra- matic continuity ; as the supper-scene at Wolsey's house, i. 4, and the scene of the coronation, iv. i. In other words, the piece is far from evincing great skill or judgment in the high point of dramatic architecture. Judged by the standard of Shakespeare's other plays, it is by no means a well organ- ized specimen. We can trace in it no presiding idea, no governing thought. Though some of the parts are noble in themselves, still they have no clear principle of concert and unity, no right artistic centre : they rather give the impres- sion of having been put together arbitrarily, and not under any organic law. The various threads of interest do not pull together, nor show any clear intelligence of each other ; the whole thus seeming rather a mechanical juxtaposition of parts than a vital concrescence. In short, the current both of dramatic and of historic interest is repeatedly broken and disordered by misplaced and premature semi-catastrophes, which do not help each other at all ; instead of flowing on with continuous and increasing volume to the one proper catastrophe. The matter is well stated by Gervinus : '' The interest first clings to Buckingham and his designs against Wolsey, but with the second Act he leaves the stage ; then Wolsey draws the attention increasingly, and he too disappears in the third Act ; meanwhile our sympathies are drawn more and more to Catharine, who also leaves the stage in the fourth Act : then, after being thus shattered through four Acts by circumstances of a tragic character, we have the fifth Act closing with a merry festivity, for which we are not
INTRODUCTION. 23
prepared, and crowning the King's base passion with victory, in which we take no warm interest."
By way of accounting for all this, I probably cannot do better than to quote again from Mr. Spedding, who discourses the point as follows :
It was not unusual in those days, when a play was wanted in a hurry, to set two or three or even four hands at work upon it ; and the occasion of the Princess Elizabeth's marriage may very likely have suggested the production of a play representing the marriage of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn. Such an occasion would sufficiently account for the determination to treat the sub- ject not tragically ; the necessity for producing it immediately might lead to the employment of several hands ; and thence would follow inequality of workmanship and imperfect adaptation of the several parts to each other. But this would not explain the incoherency and inconsistency of the main design. Had Shakespeare been employed to make a design for a play which was to end with the happy marriage of Henry and Anne Boleyn, we may be sure that he would not have occupied us through the first four Acts with a tragic and absorbing interest in the decline and death of Queen Catharine, and through half the fifth with a quarrel between Cranmer and Gardiner, in which we have no interest.
On the other hand, since it is by Shakespeare that all the prin- cipal matters and characters are introduced, it is not likely that the general design of the piece would be laid out by another. I should rather conjecture that he had conceived the idea of a great historical drama on the subject of Henry VIII. which would have included the divorce of Catharine, the fall of Wolsey, the rise of Cranmer, the coronation of Anne. Boleyn, and the final separation of the English from the Romish Church, which, being the one great historical event of the reign, would naturally be chosen as the focus of poetic interest ; that he had proceeded in the execution of this idea as far perhaps as the third Act, which might
24 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
have included the establishment of Cranmer in the seat of highest ecclesiastical authority ; when, finding that his fellows of the Globe were in distress for a new play to honour the marriage of the Lady Elizabeth with, he thought that his half-finished work might help them, and accordingly handed them his manuscript to make what they could of it ; that they put it into the hands of Fletcher, (already in high repute as a popular and expeditious playwright,) who, finding the original design not very suitable to the occasion and utterly beyond his capacity, expanded the three Acts into five, by interspersing scenes of show and mag- nificence, and passages of description, and long poetical conver- sations, in which his strength lay; dropped all allusion to the great ecclesiastical revolution, which he could not manage and for which he had no materials supplied him ; converted what should have been the middle into the end ; and so turned out a splendid " historical masque, or shew^-play,^' which was no doubt very popular then, as it has been ever since.
Ecclesiastical Leanings.
It is a question of no little interest, how far and in what sort the authors of this play stand committed to the Refor- mation ; if at all, whether more as a religious or as a national movement. They certainly show a good mind towards Cran- mer ; but nothing can be justly argued from this, for they show the same quite as much towards Catharine ; and the King's real motives for putting her away are made plain enough. There are however several expressions, especially that in Cranmer's prophecy touching Ehzabeth, — "In her days God shall be truly known," — which indicate pretty clearly how the authors regarded the great ecclesiastical question of the time ; though it may be fairly urged that in all these cases they do but make the persons speak char- acteristically, without practising any ventriloquism about them.
INTRODUCTION. 2$
Not that I have any doubt as to their being what would now be called Protestants. That they were truly such, is (juite evident, I think, in the general complexion of the jjiece, which, by the way, is the only one of Shakespeare's plays where this issue enters into the structure and life of the work. Surely no men otherwise minded would have selected and oidered the materials of a drama so clearly with a view to celebrate Ehzabeth's reign, all the main features of which were identified with the Protestant interest by foes as well as friends. But, whether the authors were made such more by religious or by national sympathies, is another question, and one not to be decided so easily. For the honour and inde- pendence of England were then so bound up with that cause^ that Shakespeare's sound English heart, and the strong current of patriotic sentiment that flowed through his veins, were enough of themselves to secure it his cordial adhesion. That there was, practically, no breath for the stout nationality of old England but in the atmosphere of the Reformation, left no choice to such a thoroughgoing Englishman as he everywhere approves himself. All which sets off the more clearly his judicial calmness in giving to the characters severally their due, and in letting them speak out freely and in their own way the mind that is within them. That, in his view, they could best serve his ends by being true to themselves, is sufficient proof that his ends were right.
Political and Social Characteristics.
The social and civil climate of England as shown in this piece is very different from that in the other plays of the his- toric series. A new order of things has evidently sprung uj) and got firm roothold in the land. Nor have we far to seek for the causes of this. All through the time of Henry the
26 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
Eighth, owing to the long frenzy of civil slaughter which had lately possessed the nation, the English people were in nervous dread of a disputed succession. In the course of that frenzy, the old overgrown nobility became greatly re- duced in numbers and crippled in strength, so as to be no longer an effective check upon the constitutional head of the State. The natural effect was to draw the throne into much closer sympathy with the people at large : the King had to throw himself more and more upon the commons ; which of course brought on a proportionable growth of this interest. So, in these scenes, we find the commons highly charged with a sense of their rising strength, and the rulers, from the King downwards, quailing before their determined voice. The best chance of power and consequence is felt to be by '' gaining the love of the commonalty." On the other hand, the people, being thus for the first time brought into direct intercourse with the throne, and being elated with the novelty of having the King with them, become highly enthusiastic in his cause ; they warm up intensely towards his person, and are indeed the most obsequious of all orders to any stretches of prerogative that he may venture in their name ; the growth of his power being felt by them as the growth of their own. So that this state of things had the effect for a while of greatly enchancing the power of the crown. Henry the Eighth was almost if not altogether autocratic in his rule. Both he and Elizabeth made themselves directly responsible to the people, and the people in turn made them all but irresponsible.
Nor do the signs of a general transition-process stop here. Corresponding changes in ideas and manners are going on. Under the long madness of domestic butchery, the rage for war had in all classes thoroughly spent itself Military skill and service is no longer the chief, much less the only path
INTRODUCTION. 27
to preferment and power. Another order of abilities has come forward, and made its way to the highest places of honour and trust. The custom is gradually working in of governing more by wisdom, and less by force. The arts of war are yielding the chief seat to the arts of peace : learning, eloquence, civic accomplishment, are disputing precedence with hereditary claims : even the highest noblemen are get- ting ambitious of shining in the new walks of honour, and of planting other titles to nobility than birth and family and warlike renown; insomuch that the princely Buckingham, graced as he is with civil abilities, and highly as he values himself upon them, complains that ''a beggar's book out- worths a noble's blood."
This new order of things has its crowning exponent ,in VVolsey, whose towering greatness in the State is because he really leads the age in the faculties and resources of solid statesmanship. But his rapid growth of power and honour not only turns his own head, but provokes the envy and hatred of the old nobility, whose untamed pride of blood naturally resents his ostentatious pride of merit. And he has withal in large measure the overgrown upstart's arrogance towards both the class from which he sprang and the class into which he has made his way. Next to Wolsey, the King himself, besides having strong natural parts, was the most accomplished man in the same arts, and probably the ablest statesman that England had in his time. But his nature was essentially coarse, hard, and sinister; his refinement was but skin-deep, and without any roothold in his heart ; and, from the causes already noted, his native infirmities got pampered into the ruffianism, at once cold and boisterous, which won him the popular designation of " bluff King Hal," and whicli is artfully disguised indeed by the authors, yet not so but that we feel its presence more than enough.
28 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
General Notes of Characterization.
I have already observed how the interest of this play is broken and scattered by incoherences of design and execution. The interest, however, of the several portions is deep and gen- uine while it lasts ; at least, till we come to the fifth Act. We are carried through a series of sudden and most afflicting reverses. One after another, the mighty are broken and the lofty laid low ; their prosperity being strained to a high pitch, as if on purpose to deepen their plunge, just when they have reached the summit, with their hearts built up and settled to the height of their rising, and when the revolving wheel of time seems fast locked with themselves at the top.
First, we have Buckingham in the full-blown pride of rank and talents. He is wise in counsel, rich in culture and ac- complishment, of captivating deportment, learned and elo- quent in discourse. A too self- flattering sense of his strength and importance has made him insolent and presumptuous ; and his self-control has failed from the very elevation that rendered it most needful to him. In case of Henry's dying without issue, he was the next male heir to the throne in the Beaufort branch of the Lancastrian House. So he plays with aspiring thoughts, and practises the arts of popularity, and calls in the aid of fortune-tellers to feed his ambitious schemes, and at the same time by his haughty bearing stings the haughtiness of Wolsey, and sets that wary, piercing eye in quest of matter against him. Thus he puts forth those leaves of hope which, as they express the worst parts of himself, naturally provoke the worst parts of others, and so invite danger while blinding him to its approach; till at length all things within and around are made ripe for his upsetting and ruin; and, while he is exultingly spreading
INTRODUCTION. 29
snares for the Cardinal, he is himself caught and crushed with the strong toils of that master-hand.
Next, we have the patient and saintly Catharine sitting in state with the King, all that she would ask being granted ere she asks it; sharing half his power, and appearing most worthy of it when most free to use it. She sees blessings flowing from her hand to the people, and the honour and happiness of the nation reviving as she pleads for them ; and her state seems secure, because, it stands on nothing but virtue, and she seeks nothing but the good of all within her reach. Yet even now the King is cherishing in secret the passion that has already supplanted her from his heart, and his sinister craft is plotting the means of divorcing her from his side, and at the same time weaving about her such a net of intrigue as may render her very strength and beauty of character powerless in her behalf; so that before she feels the meditated wrong all chance of redress is foreclosed, and she is left with no defence but the sacredness of her sorrows.
Then we have the overgreat Cardinal, who, in his pleni- tude of inward forces, has cut his way and carried himself upward over whatever offered to stop him. He walks most securely when dangers are thickest about him ; and is sure to make his purpose so long as there is any thing to hinder him ; because he has the gift of turning all that would thwart liim into the ministry of a new strength. His cunning hand quietly gathers in the elements of power, because he best knows how to use it, and wherein the secret of it lies : he has the King for his pupil and dependant because his magic of tongue is never at a loss for just the right word at just the right time. By his wisdom and eloquence he assuages Henry's lawless tempers, and charms his headstrong caprice into prudent and prosperous courses, and thus gets the keep-
30 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
ing of his will. That he can always sweeten the devil out of the King, and hold him to the right, is hardly to be sup- posed ; but even when such is not the case he still holds the King to him by his executive ability and art in putting the wrong smoothly through. His very power, however, of ris- ing against all opposers serves, apparently, but to aggravate and assure his fall, when there is no further height for him to climb; and at last, through his own mere oversight and oblivion, he loses all, from his having no more to gain.
Yet in all these cases, inasmuch as the persons have their strength inherent, and not adventitious, therefore they carry it with them in their reverses ; or rather, in seeming to lose it, they augment it. For it is then seen, as it could not be before, that the greatness which was in their circumstances served to obscure that which was in themselves. Bucking- ham is something more and better than the gifted and ac- complished nobleman, when he stands before us unpropped and simply as " poor Edward Bohun " ; his innate nobility being then set free, and his mind falling back upon its naked self for the making good his title to respect. Wolsey, also, towers far above the all-performing and all-powerful Cardinal and Chancellor who " bore his blushing honours thick upon him," when, stripped of every thing that fortune and favour can give or take away, he bestows his great mind in parting counsel upon Cromwell ; when he comes, " an old man broken with the storms of State," to beg '^a little earth for charity " ; and when he has really " felt himself, and found the blessedness of being little."
Nor is the change in our feelings towards these men, after their fall, merely an effect passing within ourselves : it pro- ceeds in part upon a real disclosure of something in them that was before hidden beneath the superinducings of place
INTRODUCTION. 3 1
and circumstance. Their nobler and better qualities shine out afresh when they are brought low, so that from their fall we learn the true causes of their rising. And because this real and true exaltation springs up naturally in consequence of their fall, therefore it is that from their ruins the authors build "such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow."
Character of Wolsey.
Wolsey is indeed a superb delineation, strong, subtile, com- ' prehensive, and profound. All the way from his magnificent arrogance at the start to his penetrating and persuasive wis- ' dom on quitting the scene, the space is rich with deep and telling lines of character. The corrupting influences of place and power have stimulated the worser elements of his nature into an usurped predominance: pride, ambition, duplicity, i insolence, vindictiveness, a passion for intriguing and circum- ■ venting arts, a wilful and elaborate stifling of conscience and pity, confidence in his potency of speech making him reck- less of truth and contemptuous of simplicity and purity, — these are the faults, all of gigantic stature, that have got possession of him. When the reverse, so sudden and deci- sive, overtakes him, its first effect is to render him more truthful. In the great scene, iii. 2, where Norfolk, Suffolk, and Surrey so remorselessly hunt him down with charges and reproaches, his conscience is quickly stung into resurgence ; with clear eye he begins to see, in their malice and their ill- mannered exultation at his fall, a reflection of his own moral features, and with keen pangs of remorse he forthwith goes to searching and hating and despising in himself the things that show so hateful and so mean in his enemies ; and their . envenomed taunts have the effect rather of composing his
32 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
mind than of irritating it. To be sure, he at first stings back again ; but in his upworkings of anger his long-dormant hon- esty is soon awakened, and this presently calms him.
His repentance, withal, is hearty and genuine, and not a mere exercise in self-cozenage, or a fit of self-commiseration : as he takes all his healthy vigour and clearness of under- standing into the process, so he is carried through a real renovation of the heart and rejuvenescence of the soul : his former sensibility of principle, his early faith in truth and right, which had been drugged to sleep with the high- wines of state and pomp, revive ; and with the solid sense and refreshment of having triumphed over his faults and put down his baser self, his self-respect returns ; and he now feels himself stronger with the world against him than he had been with the world at his beck. As the first prac- tical fruit of all this, and the best proof of his earnestness in it, he turns away his selfishness, and becomes generous, preferring another's welfare and happiness to his own : for so he bids Cromwell fly from him, and bestow his services where the benefits thereof will fall to the doer ; whereas a selfish man in such a case would most of all repine at losing the aid and comfort of a cherished and trusted servant. Finally, in his parting counsel to Cromwell, tliere is a home- felt calmness and energy of truth, such as assures us that the noble thoughts and purposes, the deep religious wisdom, which launched him, and for some time kept with him, in his great career, have been reborn within him, and are far sweeter to his taste than they were before he had made trial of their contraries. No man could speak such words as the following, unless his whole soul were in them :
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels ; how can man, then,
INTRODUCTION. 33
The image of his Maker, liope to win by't?
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 :
Let 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.
Queen Catharine.
The delineation of Catharine differs from the two fore- going, in that she maintains the same simple, austere, and solid sweetness of mind and manners through all the changes of fortune. Yet she, too, rises by her humiliation, and is made perfect by suffering, if not in herself, at least to us ; for it gives her full sway over those deeper sym- pathies which are necessary to a just appreciation of the profound and venerable beauty of her character. She is mild, meek, and discreet ; and the harmonious blending of these qualities with her high Castilian pride gives her a very peculiar charm. Therewithal she is plain in mind and person ; has neither great nor brilliant parts ; and of this she is fully aware, for she knows herself thoroughly : but she is nevertheless truly great, — and this is the one truth about her which she does not know, — from the symmetry and composure wherein all the elements of her being stand and move together : so that she presents a remarkable instance of greatness in the whole, with the absence of it in the parts. How clear and exact her judgment and discrimination ! yet we scarce know whence it comes, or how. From the first broaching of the divorce, she knows the thing is all a fore- gone conclusion with the King ; she is also in full possession of the secret why it is so : she feels her utter helpless-
34 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
ness, being, as she is, in a land of strangers, with a ca- pricious tyrant for the party against her, so that no man will dare to befriend her cause with honest heartiness ; that no trial there to be had can be any thing but a mockery of justice, for the sole purpose will be to find arguments in support of what is predetermined, and to set a face of truth on a body of falsehood : she has no way therefore but to take care of her own cause ; her only help lies in being true to herself; and indeed the modest, gentle, dignified wisdom with which she schools herself to meet the crisis is worth a thousand-fold more than all the defences that any learning and ingenuity and eloquence could frame in her behalf.
Her power over our better feelings is in no small degree owing to the impression we take, that she sees through her husband perfectly, yet never in the least betrays to him, and hardly owns to herself, what mean and hateful qualities she knows or feels to be in him. It is not possible to over-state her simple artlessness of mind ; while nevertheless her sim- plicity is of such a texture as to be an overmatch for all the unscrupulous wiles by which she is beset. Her betrayers, with all their mazy craft, can neither keep from her the secret of their thoughts nor turn her knowledge of it into any blem- ish of her innocence ; nor is she less brave to face their pur- pose than penetrating to discover it. And when her resolu- tion is fixed, that '^ nothing but death shall e'er divorce her dignities," it is not, and we feel it is not, that she holds the accidents of her position for one iota more than they are worth ; but that these are to her the necessary symbols of her honour as a wife, and the inseparable garments of her delicacy as a woman ; and as such they have so grown in with her life, that she cannot survive the parting with them ; to say nothing of how they are bound up with her sentiments
INTRODUCTION. 35
of duty, of ancestral reverence, and of self-respect. More- over many hard, hard trials have made lier conscious of her sterling virtue : she has borne too much, and borne it too well, to be ignorant of what she is and how much better things she has deserved ; she knows, as she alone can know, that patience has had its perfect work with her : and this knowl- edge of her solid and true worth, so sorely tried, so fully proved, enhances to her sense the insult and wrong that are put upon her, making them eat like rust into her soul.
One instance deserves special noting, where, by the pecu- liar use of a single word, the authors well illustrate how Cath- arine ''guides her words with discretion," and at the same time make her suggest the long, hard trial of temper and judgment which she has undergone. It is in her dialogue with the two Cardinals, when they visit her at Bridewell :
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.
How much more is here understood than is expressed ! By the cautious and well-guarded but pregnant hint con- veyed in the last three words, the mind is thrown back upon the long course of trials she has suffered, and still kept her suffering secret, lest the knowledge thereof should defeat the cherished hope of her heart ; with what considerate forbear- ance and reserve she has struggled against the worst parts of her husband's character ; how she has wisely ignored his sins against herself, that so she might still keep alive in him a seed of grace and principle of betterment ; thus endeavour- ing by conscientious art to make the best out of his strong but hard and selfish nature. Yet all this is so intimated as not to compromise at all tlie apprehensive delicacy which befits her relation to him, and belone^s to her character.
36 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
The scope of this suggestion is well shown by a passage in the Life of Wolsey, referring to things that took place some time before the divorce was openly mooted. The writer is speaking of Anne Boleyn : " After she knew the King's pleasure and the bottom of his secret stomach, then she began to look very haughty and stout, lacking no man- ner of jewels and rich apparel that might be gotten for money. It was therefore judged by-and-by through the Court of every man, that she being in such favour might work masteries with the King, and obtain any suit of him for her friend. All this while, it is no doubt but good Queen Catharine, having this gentlewoman daily attending upon her, both heard by report and saw with her eyes how it framed against her good ladyship : although she showed neither unto Mistress Anne Boleyn nor unto the King any kind or spark of grudge or displeasure ; but accepted all things in good part, and with wisdom and great patience dissembled the same, having Mistress Anne in more estima- tion, for the King's sake, than she was before."
Catharine in her seclusion, and discrowned of all but her honour and her sorrow, is one of the authors* noblest and sweetest deliverances. She there leads a life of homely sim- plicity. Always beautiful on the throne, in her humiliation she is more beautiful still. She carries to the place no grudge or resentment or bitterness towards any ; nothing but faith, hope, and charity ; a touching example of womanly virtue and gentleness ; hourly in Heaven for her enemies ; her heart garrisoned with " the peace that passeth all understanding." Candid and plain herself, she loves and honours plainness and candour in others ; and it seems a positive relief to her to hear the best spoken that can be of the fallen great man who did more than all the rest to
INTRODUCTION. 37
work her fall. Her calling the messenger '^a saucy fellow/' who breaks in so abruptly upon her, discloses just enough of human weakness to make us feel that she is not quite an angel yet ; and in her death-scene we have the divinest notes of a "soul by resignation sanctified."
Delineation of Henry.
The portrait of the King, all the circumstances considered in which it was drawn, is a very remarkable piece of work, being no less true to the original than politic as regards the authors : for the cause which Henry had been made to serve, though against his will, and from the very rampancy of his vices, had rendered it a long and hard process for the na- tion to see him as he was. The authors keep the worst parts of his character mainly in the background, veiling them withal so adroitly and so transparently as to suggest them to all who are willing to see them : in other words, they do not directly expose or affirm his moral hatefulness, but place it silently in facts, and so make him characterize himself in a way to be felt : nay, they even make the other persons speak good things of him, but at the same time let him refute and reprove their words by his deeds. At all events, the man's hard-hearted and despotic capriciousness is brought to points of easy inference ; yet the matter is carried by the authors with such an air of simplicity as if they were hardly aware of it ; though, when one of the persons is made to say of Henry, " His conscience has crept too near another lady,'^ it is manifest that the authors imder- stood his character perfectly. His little traditional pecu- liarities of manner, which would be ridiculous, but that his freaky fierceness of temper renders them dreadful ; and his
38 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
mixture of hypocrisy and fanaticism, which endeavours to misderive his bad passions from Divine sources, and in the strength of which he is enabled to beHeve a He, even while he knows it to be a he, and because he wishes it true ; — all these things are shown up, without malice indeed, but with- out mercy too. — Such and so great is the psychagogic re- finement displayed in this delineation.
In the whole matter of the divorce, Henry is felt to be acting from motives which he does not avow : already pos- sessed with a criminal passion for which he is lawlessly bent on making a way, he still wants to think he has strong pub- lic reasons for the measure, and that religion and conscience are his leading inducements ; and he shows much cunning and ability in pressing these considerations into view : but it is plain enough that he rather tries to persuade himself they are true than really believes them to be so ; though there is no telling how far, in this effort to hide the real cause from the world, he may strangle the sense of it in his own breast. All this, however, rather heightens the mean- ness than relieves the wickedness of his course. The power or the poison of self-deceit can indeed work wonders ; and in such cases it is often extremely difficult to judge whether a man is wilfully deceiving others or unconsciously deceiv- ing himself: in fact, the two often slide into each other, so as to compound a sort of honest hypocrisy, or a state be- tween belief and not-behef: but Henry wilfully embraces and hugs and holds fast the deceit, and rolls all arguments for it as sweet morsels under his tongue, because it offers a free course for his carnal-mindedness and raging self-will. But the history of his reign after the intellect of Wolsey and the virtue of Catharine were removed is the best com- mentary on the motives that swayed him at this time ; and there I must leave him.
INTRODUCTION. 39
Characteristics of Anne.
In the brief delineation of Anne Boleyn there is gathered up the essence of a long story. She is regarded much less for what she is in herself than for the gem that is to proceed from her ; and her character is a good deal screened by the purpose of her introduction, though not so much but that it peeps significantly through. With little in her of a positive nature one way or the other; with hardly any legitimate object-matter of respect or confidence, she appears notwith- standing a rather amiable person ; possessed with a girlish fancy and hankering for the vanities and glitterings of state, but having no sense of its duties and dignities. She has a kindly heart, but is so void of womanly principle and deli- cacy as to be from the first evidently elated by those royal benevolences which to any just sensibility of honour would minister nothing but humiliation and shame. She has a real and true pity for the good Queen, which however goes alto- gether on false grounds ; and she betrays by the very terms of it an eager and uneasy longing after what she scarcely more fears than hopes the Queen is about to lose. As for the true grounds and sources of Catharine's noble sorrow, she strikes vastly below these, and this in such a way as to indicate an utter inability to reach or conceive them. Thus the effect of her presence is to set off and enhance that deep and solid character of whose soul truth is not so much a quality as the very substance and essential form ; and who, from the serene and steady light thence shining within her, much rather tlian from acuteness or strength of intellect, is enabled to detect the duplicity and serpentine policy which are playing their engines about her. For this thorough in- tegrity of heart; this perfect truth in the inward parts, is as
40 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
hard to be deceived as it is incapable of deceiving. I can well imagine that, with those of the audience who had any knowledge in English history, — and many of them no doubt had much, — the delineation of Anne, broken off as it is at the height of her fortune, must have sent their thoughts forward to reflect how the self-same levity of char- acter, which lifted her into Catharine's place, soon afterwards drew upon herself a far more sudden and terrible reverse. And indeed some such thing may be needful, to excuse the authors for not carrying out the truth of history from seed- time to harvest, or at least indicating the consummation of that whereof they so faithfully unfold the beginnings.
The moral effect of this play as a whole is very impres- sive and very just. And the lesson evolved, so far as it admits of general statement, may be said to stand in showing how sorrow makes sacred the wearer, and how, to our hu- man feehngs, suffering, if borne with true dignity and strength of soul, covers a multitude of sins ; or, to carry out the point with more special reference to Catharine, it consists, as Mrs. Jameson observes, in illustrating how, by the union of perfect truth with entire benevolence of char- acter, a queen, and a heroine of tragedy, though '' stripped of all the pomp of place and circumstance," and without any of ''the usual sources of poetical interest, as youth, beauty, grace, fancy, commanding intellect, 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 impulses."
KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
King Henry the Eighth. Thomas Wolsey, Cardinal. Campeius, Cardinal, and Legate. Capucius, Ambassador from the
Emperor Charles V. Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of
Canterbury. Howard, Duke of Norfolk. Stafford, Duke of Buckingham. Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, Lord Chamberlain. Lord Chancellor. Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester. LONGLAND, Bishop of Lincoln. Neville, Lord Abergavenny. William Lord Sands. Sir Henry Guildford. Sir Thomas Lovell. Sir Anthony Denny.
to
Sir Nicholas Vaux.
Cromwell, Servant to Wolsey.
Griffith, Gentleman - Usher Queen Catharine.
Butts, Physician to the King.
Secretaries to Wolsey. Garter, King at-Arms.
Surveyor to Buckingham.
Brandon, and a Sergeant-at-Arms.
Door-Keeper of the Council-Cham- ber. A Crier.
Page to Gardiner.
A Porter, and his Man.
Catharine of Arragon, Wife to King Henry.
Anne BoLEYN, her Maid of Honour.
An old Lady, Friend to Anne Boleyn.
Patience. Woman to Queen Cath- arine.
Several Bishops. Lords, and Ladies in the Dumb-Shows ; Women attendinn on the Queen ; Scribes, Officers. Guards, and other Attendants. "^
Scene. — Chiejly in London and Westminster; once at Kimdolton,
PROLOGUE.
I come no more to make you laugh : things now, That bear a weighty and a serious brow, Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe.
42 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. PROLOGUE.
Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,
We now present. Those that can pity, here
May, if they tliink 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'll 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 deceived ; for, gentle hearers, know.
To rank our chosen truth with such a show
As Fool and fight is, besides forfeiting
Our own brains, and th' opinion that we bring
Or make, — that only truth we now intend, —
Will leave us ne'er an understanding friend.^
Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you're known
The first and happiest ^ hearers of the town.
Be sad, as we would make ye : think ye see
The very persons of our history
1 This long motley coat was the usual badge dress of the professional Fool. — Guarded \s faced or triinmcd. See The Merchant, page iii, note 30.
2 This seems to imply a reference to what, as shown in the preface, there is good reason for thinking to have been originally the first title of the play. For by advertising the play under the title All is True the authors would naturally beget an opinion or expectatioft of truth in what was to be shown ; which opinion or expectation would be forfeited or destroyed by the course in question.
3 Happy is here used for propitious, or favourable, w^hich is one of the senses of the corresponding Latin w^oxdfelix.
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 43
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 : And, if you can be merry then, I'll say A man may weep upon his wedding-day.
ACT I.
Scene I. — London, An Ante-chamber in the Palace,
Etiter, on one side^ the Duke of Norfolk ; on the other, the Duke r/ Buckingham and the Z^r^ Abergavenny. i
Buck. Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done Since last we saw^ in France?
1 Thomas Howard, the present Duke of Norfolk, is the same person who figures as Earl of Surrey in King Richard III. His father's rank and titles, having been lost by the part he took with Richard, were restored to him by Henry VHI. in 1514, soon after his great victory over the Scots at Flodden. His wife was Anne, third daughter of Edward IV., and so, of course, aunt to the King. He died in 1525, and was succeeded by his son Thomas, Earl of Surrey. The Poet, however, continues them as duke and earl to the end of the play ; at least he does not distinguish between them and their suc- cessors. — Edward Stafford, the Buckingham of this play, was son to Henryr the Buckingham of King Richard III. The father's titles and estates, hav- ing been declared forfeit and confiscate by Richard, were restored to the son by Henry VH. in the first year of his reign, 1485. In descent, in wealth, and in personal gifts, the latter was the most illustrious nobleman in the Court of Henry VIII. In the record of his arraignment and trial he is termed, says Holinshed, " the floure and mirror of all courtesie." His oldest daughter, Elizabeth, was married to the Earl of Surrey ; Mary, his youngest, to George Neville, Lord Abergavenny.
2 That is, "since last we saw each other y or met. So in Cymbelme, i. i;
44 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I.
Nor. I thank your Grace,
Healthful ; and ever since a fresh admirer Of what I saw there.
Buck. An untimely ague
Stayed me a prisoner in my chamber, when Those suns of glory, those two lights of men. Met in the vale of Andren.
Nor. 'Twixt Guines 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 ; Which had they, what four throned ones could have weigh'd Such a compounded one ?
Buck. All the whole time
I was my chamber's prisoner.
Nor. 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 last day's master, till the next Made former wonders its : ^ to-day, the French, All clinquant,^ all in gold, like heathen gods,
"When shall we see again?" — "How have ye done?" answers precisely to our phrase, " How have you been?'* though we still say, " How do you do ? "
3 Guynes and Arde are the names of two towns in Picardy, where the English and French respectively set up their tents and pavilions. Andren is the name of a valley between them, where the two Kings met.
4 As for as if; a common usage.
5 Its for its own. Each later day mastered, that is, surpassed or outdid, the one before it, and was 'itself in turn outdone by the next day; which next seemed to carry in its hand the splendours of all the days preceding.
6 67/»<7«a;z/ is commonly explained here as xw^Cinmg j^littcr in q-, s/iinin^^. Richardson says it is used " for \\\^ jingling noise of the ornaments " ; which is certainly the usual sense of the word.
SCENE I. KING HKNRY THE EIGHTH. 45
Shone down the English ; and, to-morrow, they
Made Britain India ; every man that stood
Showed like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were
As cherubins, all gilt : the madams too,
Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear
The pride upon them, that'^ their very labour
Was to them as a painting : now this masque
Was cried incomparable ; and th' 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.
Still him in praise : and, being present both,
Twas said they saw but one ; and no discerner
Durs wag his tongue in censure.^ When these suns —
For so they phrase 'em — by their heralds challenged
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 believed.
Bicck, O, you go far.
Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect In honour honesty, the tract ^^ of every thing
■^ That for so that or insomuch that ; a very frequent usage. — Of course the meaning of what follows is, that their labour put colour into their cheeks. — Pride, here, is splendour of dress or adornment.
8 No discriminating observer durst express an opinion as to which made the finest appearance. This use o{ censure occurs often.
^ The old romantic legend of Bevis of Hampton. This Bevis, a Saxon, was for his prowess created Earl of Southampton by William the Conqueror.
10 Tract here has the sense, apparently, of course, process, or trace. Johnson explains the passage tlius: "The course of these triumphs and pleasures, however well related, must lose in the description part of the spirit and energy wliich were expressed in the real action." — To "belong to worship " was to be in the rank of gentleman, or of the gentry. So " your
46 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I.
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.
Buck, Who did guide,
I mean, who set the body and the limbs Of this great sport together, as you guess ?
Nor, One, certes, that promises no element 1^ In such a business.
Buck, I pray you, who, my lord ?
Nor, All this was order'd by the good discretion Of the right-reverend Cardinal of York.
Buck, 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
Worship " was a common title of deference, though not so high as " your Honour." — To aj^ect a thing, as the word is here used, is to crave or desire it, to aspire to it, to have a passion for it.
11 Element here is commonly explained to mean \\\q first principles or rudiments of knowledge. Is it not rather used in the same sense as when we say of any one, that he is out of his element ? From Wolsey's calling, they would no more think he could be at home in such matters, than a fish could swim in the air, or a bird fly in the water. — Certes^ va^dimx^g certainly, is here a monosyllable. In some other places the Poet uses it as a dissyl- lable.
12 This use oi fierce in the sense of excessive, or nearly that, is common in the old writers, and is sometimes met with in those of later date. Shake- speare has it repeatedly. So in Cymbeline, v. 5 : " This fierce abridgement hath to it circumstantial branches, which distinction should be rich in." Also in Hamlet, i. i : " And even the like precurse oi fierce events."
13 A round lump of fat. It has been thought that there was some allu- sion here to the Cardinal's being reputed the son of a butcher. We have " Goodwife Keech, the butcher's wife," mentioned by Dame Quickly in 2 tJenry IV., ii. i. — In the next line, beneficial is used for beneficent. Walker
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 47
Take up the rays o' the beneficial Sun, And keep it from the Earth.
^or. 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 For high feats done to th' crown ; neither allied To eminent assistants ; but, spider-like, Out of s self-drawing web, he gives us note The force of his own merit makes his way ; A gift that Heaven gives ; which buys for him A place next to the King.
Aber, 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
Buck, Why the Devil,
Upon this French going-out, took he upon him, Without the privity o' the King, t' appoint Who should attend on him ? He makes up the file Of all the gentry ; i^ f^j. the most part such To whom as great a charge as little honour He meant to lay upon ; ^^ and his own letter,
notes upon it thus : " It is to be observed that the words benefit and benefit cial, in our old writers, almost uniformly involve the idea of a bcjiefactor, which has since been dropped, except in cases where the context implies that idea, e.g., conferring or receiving a benefit!'
14 Theyf/^ is the list, roll, or schedule.
15 This use of to and upon may be merely a doubling of prepositions, such as occurs repeatedly in Shakespeare; but is, more likely, an instance
48 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. act. i.
The honourable board of Council out, Must fetch him in he papers. i^
Aber, 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.
Buck. O, many
Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em For this great joumey.^^ What did this vanity But minister communication of A most poor issue ? ^^
Nor. Grievingly I think.
The peace between the French and us not values The cost that did conclude it.
Buck. Every man,
After the hideous storm that foUow'd, was A thing inspired ; and, not consulting, broke Into a general prophecy, that this tempest,
of pretty bold ellipsis ; the sense being, " To whom he gave as great a charge as he meant to lay upon them little honour."
16 His own letter, by his own single authority, and without the concur- rence of the Council, must fetch him in whom he papers down. Wolsey drew up a list of the several persons whom he had appointed to attend on the King at this interview, and addressed his letters to them.
1"^ *' In the interview at Andren," says Lingard, " not only the two kings, but also their attendants, sought to surpass each other in the magnificence of their dress, and the display of their riches. Of the French nobility it was said that many carried their whole estates on their backs : among the English the Duke of Buckingham ventured to express his marked disapprobation of a visit which had led to so much useless expense."
18 That is, serve for the reporting or proclaiming of a paltry, worthless result ; somewhat like the homely phrase, " Great cry, and little wool." Staunton, however, explains it thus : " But furnish discourse on the poverty of its result. Communication in the sense of talk or discourse is found re- peatedly in the writers of Shakespeare's time."
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 49
Dashing the garment of this peace, al^oded The sudden breach on't.^^
Nor, Which is budded out ;
For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.
Aber, Is it therefore
Th' ambassador is silenced ? ^^
Nor, Marry, is't.
Aber. A proper title of a peace ; ^^ and purchased At a superfluous rate !
Buck, Why, all this business
Our reverend Cardinal carried.
Nor, Like't your Grace,^^
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, It reaches far ; and where 'twill not extend, Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,
19 So in Holinshed : " On Mondaie the eighteenth of June was such an hideous storme of winde and weather, that manie conjectured it did prog- nosticate trouble and hatred shortlic after to follow betwecne princes." — Aboded \s foreboded or prognosticated.
2<^ Silenced in his official capacity ; that is, refused a hearing.
21 " A fine thing indeed, to be honoured with the title or name of a peace ! "
22 *' Please it your Grace," or, ''May it please your Grace." This use of the verb to like occurs very often in Elizabethan English.
50 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I.
You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock That I advise your shunning.
Efifer Cardinal Wolsey, the puise borne before him ; certai^i of the Guard, and tivo Secretaries with papers. The Car- dinal in his passage fixes his eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdain.
Wol, The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha? Where's his examination?
I Seer. Here, so please you.
WoL Is he in person ready ?
I Seer, Ay, please your Grace.
Wol. Well, we shall then know more ; and Buckingham Shall lessen this big look. \_Exeunt Wolsey and Train.
Buck. This butcher's cur^^ is venom-mouth'd, and I Have not the power to muzzle him ; therefore best Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book Outworths a noble's blood.-"^
Nor, What, are you chafed?
23 There was a tradition that Wolsey was the son of a butcher. But his father, as hath been ascertained from his will, was a burgess of considerable wealth, having " lands and tenements in Ipswich, and free and bond lands in Stoke"; which, at that time, would hardly consist with such a trade. Holinshed, however, says, " This Thomas Wolsie was a poore man's sonne of Ipswich, and there born, and, being but a child, verie apt to be learned : by his parents he was conveied to the universitie of Oxenford, where he shortlie prospered so in learning, as he was made bachellor of art when he passed not fifteen years of age, and was called most commonlie thorough the universitie the boie bachellor."
24 It was natural at that time that Buckingham, though himself a man of large and liberal attainments, should speak with disdain of learned poverty in comparison with noble blood. Book is here put for learning. So in 2 Henry VI., iv. 7 : " Because my book nreferred me to the King" ; preferred in its old sense of recommended.
SI
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
Ask God for temperance -^-^ that's th' appliance only Which your disease reciuires.
^^^^^'- I read in's looks
Matter against me ; and his eye reviled
Me, as his abject object : at this instant
He bores me with some trick : ^o he's gone to th' King;
I'll follow, and outstare him.
^^''- Stay, my lord,
And let your reason with your choler question
What 'tis 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.
^'''^' I'll 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.
^^^- Be advised ; ^7
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself: we may outrun. By violent swiftness, that wliich 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 advised : I say again, there is no English soul
25 Temperance in the classical sense of moderation, self-command or self-restraint. Repeatedly so.
26 Meaning. " he stabs or wounds me by some artifice "
27 Be advised \^ betlunk yourself, that is, use your judgment, or be con^ siderate. Often so.
52 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I.
More stronger to direct you than yourself, If with the sap of reason you would quench, Or but allay, the fire of passion.
Buck. Sir,
Tm thankful to you ; and I'll go along 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.
Nor. Say not, treasonous.
Buck. To th' King I'll 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 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, th' interview. That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass Did break i' the rinsing.
Nor. Faith, and so it did.
Buck. Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning Cardinal The articles o* the combination drew As himself pleased ; and they were ratified
28 Top-proud is superlatively proud, or over-topping all others in pride So the Poet often uses the verb to top for to surpass.
29 " Whom T speak of, not in malice^ but from just and candid motives!'
30 To prompt, to move, to incite arc among the old senses of to suggest.
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 53
As he cried, Thus let be : to as much end
As give a crutch to th' dead : but our Court-Cardinal
Has done this, and 'tis well ; for Worthy Wolsey,
Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows, —
Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
To th' old dam, treason, — Charles the Emperor,
Under pretence to see the Queen his aunt,
(For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came
To whisper Wolsey,) here makes visitation :
His fears were, that the interview betwixt
England and France might, through their amity,
Breed him some prejudice ; for from this league
Peep'd harms that menaced him : he privily
Deals with our Cardinal ; and, as I trow, —
Which I do well ; for, I am sure, the Emperor
Paid ere he promised ; whereby his suit was granted
Ere it was ask'd ; — but, when the way was made,
And paved with gold, the Emperor then desired
That he would please to alter the King's course,
And break the foresaid peace. Let the King know
As soon he shall by me — that thus the Cardinal Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases, And for his own advantage.
^or, I am sorry
To hear this of him ; and could wish he were Something mistaken ^i in't.
Buck, No, not a syllable :
I do pronounce him in that very shape He shall appear in proof.
31 Not that he had made a mistake, but that others m.istook, or were mistaken, in regard to him ; ?nisunderstood.
54 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT L
Enter Brandon, a Sergeant-at-arms before him, and two or three of the Guard.
Bran. Your office, sergeant ; execute it.
Serg. Sir,
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.
Buek, Lo, you, my lord.
The net has fall'n upon me ! I shall perish Under device and practice.
Bran, I am sorry.
To see ^^ you ta'en from liberty, to look on The business present : 'tis his Highness' pleasure You shall to th' Tower.
Buck. 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. — O my Lord Aberga'ny, fare you well !
Bran. Nay, he must bear you company. — \_To Aberga- venny.] The King Is pleased you shall to th' Tower, till you know How he determines further.
Aber. As the duke said.
The will of Heaven be done, and the King's pleasure
32 An obscure passage ; but to see is an instance of the infinitive used gerundively. So that the meaning comes something thus : ''In seeing you deprived of freedom, I regret to be present on this occasion " ; or, as Staun- ton words it, " I am sorry, since it is to see you deprived of hberty, that I am a witness of this business." See Hamlet, page 169, note i. — The arrest of Buckingham took place April 16, 1521.
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 55
By me obey'd !
Bran. Here is a warrant from
The King t' attach Lord Montacute ; ^^ ^nd the bodies Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car, And Gilbert Peck, his chancellor, —
Buck. So, so ;
These are the limbs o' the plot : no more, I hope.
Bran. — A monk o' the Chartreux.
Buck. O, Nicholas Hopkins ?
Bra?i. yIq
Buck. My surveyor is false ; the o'er-great Cardinal Hath show'd him gold ; my life is spann'd ^^ already : I am the shadow of poor Buckingham, Whose figure even this instant cloud puts out By darkening my clear sun.^^ — My lord, farewell. \_ExeunL
33 This was Henry Pole, grandson to George Duke of Clarence, and eldest brother to Cardinal Pole. He had married Lord Abergavenny's daughter. Though restored to favour at this juncture, he was executed for another alleged treason in this reign.
3-4 Is measured, the end of it determined. Man's life is said in Scripture to be but a span long.
35 " Stripped of my titles and possessions, I am but the shadow of what I was ; and even this poor figure or shadow a cloud this very instant puts out, reduces to nothing, by darkenmg my son of \\{q." — Instant is passing OY present. We have a like expression in Greene's Dorastus and Fawnia. upon which The Winter s Tale was partly founded : " Fortune, envious of such happie successe, turned her wheele, and darkened their bright sunne of prosperitie with the mistie clouds of mishap and miserie."
56 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT L
Scene II. — The Same. The Council- Chamber.
Cornels. Enter King Henry, Cardinal Wolsey, tJie Lords of the Council^ Sir Thomas Lovell, Officers, and Atten- dants. The King enters leaning on the Cardinal's shoul- der.
King. My life itself, and the best heart of it. Thanks you for this great care : I stood i' the level Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks To you that choked it. — Let be call'd before us That gentleman of Buckingham's : in person rU hear him his confessions justify ; And point by point the treasons of his master He shall again relate.
\The King takes his state. The Lords of the Council take their several places. The Cardinal places himself under the King's y^^/, on his right side,
A Noise within, crying Room for the Queen ! Enter Queen Catharine, ushered by the Dukes of Norfolk and Suf- folk : she kneels. The King rises from his state, takes her up, kisses and places her by his side,
Cath, Nay, we must longer kneel : I am a suitor.
King. Arise, and take place by us : half your suit Never name to us ; you have half our power : The other moiety, ere you ask, is given ; Repeat your will, and take it.
Cath, Thank your Majesty.
That you would love yourself, and in that love Not unconsidcr'd leave your honour, nor The dignity of your office, is the point Of my petition.
SCENE n. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
57
King. Lady mine, proceed.
Caih. 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 liave flaw'd tlie heart Of all their loyalties : — wherein, although, My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches Most bitterly on you, as putter-on ^ Of these exactions, yet the King our master,— Whose honour Heaven shield from soil ! — even he escapes
not Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks The sides of loyalty, and almost appears In loud rebellion.
^^^^ Not almost appears, —
It doth appear ; for, upon these taxations. 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, compelled by hunger And lack of other means, in desperate manner Daring th' event to th' teeth, are all in uproar, And danger serves among them.
^'''^' Taxation !
Wherein? and what taxation? — My Lord Cardinal, You that are blamed for it alike with us. Know you of this taxation ?
^^^* Please you, sir,
1 Men oUrue condition are men well disposed, or men of loyal tempers 1 he use of condition in that sense is very frequent. '
'' P^ putter-on \s^n instigator. So to /«/ ..;^ was often used for to /r^m// to incite, or instigate, ^ *^ '
58 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT t
I know but of a single part, in aught
Pertains to th' State ; and front but in that file
Where others tell ^ steps with me.
Ca//i. 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 th' hearing ; and, to bear 'em,^ The back is sacrifice to th' load. They say They are devised by you ; or else you suffer Too hard an exclamation.
Xing, Still exaction !
The nature of it ? in what kind, let's know^ Is this exaction?
Ca/h. I am much too venturous
In tempting of your patience ; but am bolden'd Under your promised 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 named, your wars in France : this makes bold mouths : Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegiance in them ; that their curses now Live where their prayers did : and it's come to pass, That tractable obedience is a slave
3 To /^// was used for to count; as in " keep tally',* still in use.
"* Are known /;/ common. She means, that he originates measures, and then gets the Council to father them ; so that he has the advantage, and they bear the responsibility.
s That is, in bearing them. See page 54, note 32.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. tc
To each incensed wilL^ I would your Highness
Would give it quick consideration, for
There is no primer business.
King, By my life,
This is against our pleasure.
^ol. And for me,
I have no further gone in this than by
A single voice ; and that not pass'd me but
By learned approbation of the judges. If I am
Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know
My faculties nor person, yet will be
The chronicles of my doing, let me say
'Tis 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
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,
By sick interpreters,"^ or weak ones, is
Not ours, or not allow'd ; what worst, as oft,
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up
For our best action. 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
6 The meaning seems to be, that the spirit of obedience succumbs ox gives way to the violence or distemper of individual will.
' Heath thinks the epithet sick is here used in accordance with the Stoic philosophy, which regarded the passions as so many diseases of the soul. He adds, " By sick interpreters, therefore, the Poet intended such as are under the actual influences of envy, hatred, or any other of the malevolent passions." -^//^wV, in the next line, is approved. See The Winters Tale, page 49, note 29.
60 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I.
State-Statues only.
King, 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 trembhng ^ contribution ! Why, we take From every tree lop,^ bark, and part o' the timber ; And, though we leave it with a root, thus hacked. The air will drink the sap. To every county Where this is questioned send our letters, with Free pardon to each man that has denied The force of this commission : pray, look to't ; I put it to your care.
WoL \_Aside to the Secretary.] A word with you : Let there be letters writ to every shire, Of the King's grace and pardon. The grieved commons Hardly conceive of me ; let it be noised That through our intercession this revokement And pardon comes : I shall anon advise you Further in the* proceeding. \Exit Secretary.
Enter Surveyor.
Cath. I'm sorry that the Duke of Buckingham Is run in ^^ your displeasure.
8 Tremblings if it be the right word here, must be used causatively, that is, in the sense of dreadful or terrible. The Poet uses divers intransitive verbs in this way, such as cease, fall, &c.
^ The lop of a tree is the branches, tliat which is lopped or cut off from the timber-part or the trunk.
i'> In for into ; the two being often used indiscriminately.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 6l
King, It grieves many :
The gentleman is learned, 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 disposed, the mind growing once corrupt. They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly Than ever they were fair. This man so c6mplete. Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we. Almost with listening ravish'd, 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.
Wol. Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you, Most like a careful subject, have collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham.
King, Speak freely.
Sunj, First, it was usual with him, every day It would infect his speech, that, if the King Should without issue die, he'd 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 menaced Revenge upon the Cardinal.
^^^- Please your Highness, note
His dangerous conception in this point.
62 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I.
Not friended by his wish, to your high person His will is most malignant ; and it stretches Beyond you, to your friends.
Cath. My learn'd Lord Cardinal,
Deliver all with charity.
King. 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 ?
Surv, He was brought to this
By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins.
Ki7ig. What was that Hopkins ?
Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar.
His c6nfessor ; who fed him every minute With words of sovereignty.
King. How know'st thou this?
Surv. Not long before your Highness sped to France, The duke being at the Rose,ii 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, 'twas the fear, indeed ; and that he doubted ^^ 'Twould prove the verity of certain words Spoke by a holy monk ; that oft, says he. Hath sent to 7?u\ loishing 7ne to per??iit John de la Car, 7ny chaplain, a choice hour
11 This was " the Manor of the Rose," of which Cunningham, in his Hand-book of London, says " a crypt remains between Duck's-foot-lane and Merchant Tailor's School."
12 Doubted iox feared or suspected ; a frequent usage.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 63
To hear fro7n him a ^natter of some mo merit :
Whom after, under the confession's seal,
He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke
My chaplain to no creature livi?ig but
To me should utter, with donure confidence
This pausi?igly ensued: '' Neither the King 7ior's heirs ^
Tell you the duke, shall p7'osper : bid him strive
To gai?i the love o' the conunonalty : the duke
Shall govern Erigland''
Cath. 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, Let him on. —
Go forward.
Surv, On my soul, I'll speak but truth.
I told my lord the duke, by th' Devil's illusions The monk might be deceived ; and that 'twas dangerous For him to ruminate on this so far, until It forged him some design, which, being believed, 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 Lovell's heads Should have gone off.
J^^^l^' Ha ! what, so rank? Ah-ha !
There's mischief in this man. — Canst thou say further?
Surv. I can, my liege.
King. Proceed.
^^^- Being at Greenwich,
64 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I.
After your Highness had reproved the duke About Sir William Blomer, —
King, I remember
Of such a time : being my servant sworn, The duke retained him his. — But on ; what hence ?
Surv. Ify quoth he, I for this had been committed To th' Tower ^ as I thought^ I would have play'd The part my father ineant to act upon Th' 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.
King, A giant traitor !
Wol, Now, madam, may his Highness live in freedom, And this man out of prison ?
Cath, God mend all !
King, There's something more would out of thee ; what say'st ?
Surv, 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 used, he would outgo His father by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose.
Ki7ig, There's his period,
To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach'd ; Call him to present trial : if he may Find mercy in the law, 'tis his ; if none. Let him not seek't of us : by day and night. He's traitor to the height. ^^ [^Exeunt.
13 By day and night is simply an adjuration ; not meaning that he is a traitor night and dav ; which were a little too flat.
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 65
Scene III. — The Same. A Rooin m the Palace, Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands.^
Cham, Is't possible the spells of France should juggle Men into such strange mysteries ? ^
Spends. New customs,
Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are followed.
Cham. 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.
Sands. They've all new legs, and lame ones : one would take it, That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin Or springhalt reign'd among 'em.
Cham. Death ! my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, That, sure, they've worn out Christendom. —
Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.
How now ! What news. Sir Thomas Lovell ?
1 The author places this scene in 1521. Charles Somerset, Earl of Wor- cester. was then Lord Chamberlain, and continued in the office until his death, m 1526. But Cavendish, from whom this was originally taken places this event at a later period, when Lord Sands himself was chamberlain. Sir William Sands, of the Vine, near Basingstoke. Hants, was created a peer in 1527- He succeeded the Earl of Worcester as chamberlain.
2 Mysteries are arts^ and here artificial fashions.
■^ Kfit of the face is ^ grimace, an artificial cast of the countenance.
66 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I.
Lov. Faith, my lord,
1 hear of none, but the new proclamation That's clapp'd upon the court-gate.
Chain, What is't for?
Lov. The reformation of our travell'd gallants. That fill the Court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
Cham, I'm glad 'tis there : now I would pray our mon- sieurs To think an English courtier may be wise. And never see the Louvre.
Lov. 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 blisterM breeches ^ and those types of travel. And understand again like honest men ;
^ The text may receive illustration from Nashe's Life of Jack Wilton, 1594 : " At that time I was no common squire, no under-trodden torchbearei : / had my feather in my cap as big as a flag in the foretop ; my French doublet gelte in the belly; a paire of side-paned hose, that hung down like two scales filled with Holland cheeses ; my long stock that sate close to my dock ; my rapier pendant, like a round sticke ; my blacke cloake of cloth, overspreading my backe lyke a thornbacke or an elephant's eare ; and, in consummation of my curiositie, my handes without gloves, all a mode Frenchy Douce justly observes that Sir Thomas Lovell's is an allusion to the feathers which were formerly worn by Fools in their caps, and which are alluded to in the ballad of News and no News : " And feather's wagging in a fool's cap."
^ This word blister d describes with picturesque humour the appearance of the slashed breeches, covered as they were with little puffs of satin lining which thrust themselves out through the slashes. — GRANT WHITE.
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 6/
Or pack to their old playfellows : there, I take it,
They may, cum privilegio, wee 6 away
The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at.
Sands. 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases Are grown so catching.
.<^^^'«- VVhat a loss our ladies
Will have of these trim vanities !
^°'"- Ay, marry.
There will be woe indeed, lords : the sly knaves Have got a speeding trick to wheedle ladies ; A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.
Sands. The Devil fiddle 'em ! I'm 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.
^^'^'^- Well said. Lord Sands ;
Your colt's tooths is not cast yet.
^'''''^'- No, my lord ;
Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
^^'''*'- " Sir Thomas,
« Wee is, I take it. merely an Anglicized spelling of the French out and .s used as a verb. Of course it is meant in ridiculcof the trick these French- ihed dandies have caught up of aping French idioms in their talk -The wit of this scene and the next, though of quite another tang than Shake- speare s, is in Fletcher's liveliest and spiciest vein. See Critical Notes
Plain-song ,s an old musical term used to denote the simplicity of the chant. H,s lordship's thought is that, the apish and fantastical embroidery of French manners being put down by royal proclamation, the plain style of old honest English manhood will now stand some chance of being heeded again. ^
i-^ ^^^^';-^^^^^ ^^ ^" old expression {ox youth fulness generally. The Lord Chamberlain means that Sands has not sown all his wild oats yet.
68 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT L
Whither were you a-going?
Lov. To the CardinaVs :
Your lordship is a guest too.
Cham, O, 'tis true :
This night he makes a supper, and a great one, To many lords and ladies ; there will be The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.
Lov, That churchman^ bears a bounteous mind in- deed, A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ; His dews fall everywhere.
Chain, 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're set here for examples.
Cham. True, they are so ;
But few now give so great ones. My barge stays ; ^^ 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'm your lordship's.
[Exeunt.
9 Churchman was formerly used as a term of distinction for a priest, or what is now called a clergymaji.
10 The speaker is now in the Kini^'s palace at Bridewell, from whence he is proceeding by water to York-Place.
SCENE IV. KING HENRV THE EIGHTH. 69
Scene \N.-The Same. The Presence- Cha,nl,er tn York-
Place.
Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the Guests. Enter, on one side, Anne BoLEVN and divers Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen as guests; on the other, enter Sir Henry Guildford.
Guild 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 feast, good company, good wine, g6o.l welcome Can make good people. - O, my lonl, you're tardy .- Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord 'S>mm, and Sir Thomas
LOVELL.
The very thought of this fair company Clapp'd wings to me.
^ ^^'7t "^""''^ y°""S, Sir Harry Guildford. -
bvveet ladies, will it please you sit? — Sir Harry Place you that side ; I'll take the charge of this'- His Grace is entering. - Nay, you must not freeze ; Two women placed together makes cold weather : — My Lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking • Pray, sit between these ladies.
1 A ^^z,;, is a company. I" the curious catalogue of " the comoanve, nf .es,ys and foules," in the Book of St. Albans, if is said ^^^^1:1 arm fo company of.adies, of roes, and of quails. Us origin is'vT o seek Spenser has -a bevy of ladies bright" in his Skepkcls CaLZ
JO KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I.
Sands, By my faith,
And thank your lordship. — By your leave, sweet ladies :
[^Seats himse/f between Anne Boleyn 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, He would kiss you twenty with a breath. \_Kisses her,
Cham, 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.
Wot, 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, And save me so much talking.
Wol, My Lord Sands,
I am beholding ^ to you : cheer your neighbours. —
2 Cure, as the word is here used, is a parochial charge ; hence the word curate, for one who ministers in such a charge. Of course his lordship is speaking facetiously.
3 " Such a bowl as may hold," we should say. Such omission or ellipsis of the relatives is very frequent in Shakespeare.
4 This old use of beholding, where we should use beholden, falls under the general head of active and passive forms used indiscriminately.
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 7I
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're a merry gamester,
My Lord Sands.
Sands, Yes, if I may make my play.^
Here's to your ladyship : and pledge it, madam, For 'tis to such a thing, —
A^^^^' You cannot show me.
Sands. I told your Grace they would talk anon. lDru7n and trumpets, and chambers ^ discharged, luithm,
^^^' What's that?
Cha7n. Look out there, some of ye. \^Exit a Servant.
^^^^' What warlike voice,
And to what end, is this ! — Nay, ladies, fear not ; By all the laws of war ye're privileged.
Re-enter Servant.
Cham. How now ! what is't?
^^^'^' 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.
^^^- Good Lord Chamberlain,
Go, give 'em welcome ; you can speak the French tongue ;
^ That is, " if I may choose my gaj?ie."
6 Chambers are short pieces of ordnance, standing almost erect upon their breechings, chiefly used upon festive occasions, being so contrived as to carry great charges, and make a loud report. They had their name from being little more than mere chambers to lodge powder ; that being the technical name for the cavity in a gun which contains the powder.
T2 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT L
And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty Shall shine at full upon them. — Some attend him. —
\^Exit Chamberlain, attended. All rise, and the
tables are 7emoved. You've now a broken banquet ; but we'll 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 Masquers, habited like Shepherds y ushered by the Lord Chamberlain. They pass directly before the Cardinal, and gracefully salute him.
A noble company ! what are their pleasures ?
Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd me 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, But leave their flocks ; and, under your fair conduct. Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat An hour of revels with 'em.
WoL Say, Lord Chamberlain,
They've 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 chooses
Anne Boleyn.
King. The fairest hand I ever touch'd ! O beauty. Till now I never knew thee I"^ \_Music. Dance.
"^ This incident of the King's dancing with Anne Boleyn did not occur during the banquet at York-House, but is judiciously introduced here from another occasion : A grand entertainment given by the King at Greenwich, May 5, 1527, to the French ambassadors who had come to negotiate a mar
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. J^
WoL My lord,—
Cham, Your Grace ?
WoL Pray, tell 'em thus much from me :
There should be one amongst 'em, by his person. More worthy this place than myself; to whom. If I but knew him, with my love and duty I would surrender it.
Cham, I will, my lord.
\^Goes to the Masquers, and returns.
WoL What say they ?
Cham. Such a one, they all confess,
There is indeed ; which they would have your Grace Find out, and he will take it.
Wot, Let me see then. —
\^Comes fro7n his state. By all your good leaves, gentlemen ; here I'll make My royal choice.^
King. \^Unmasking.'\ Ye've found him. Cardinal: You hold a fair assembly ; you do well, lord : You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you. Cardinal, I should judge now unhappily.^
WoL Fm glad
Your Grace is grown so pleasant.
King. My Lord Chamberlain,
riage between their King, Francis I., or his son, the Duke of Orleans, and the Princess Mary. First a grand tournament was held, and three hundred lances broken ; then came a course of songs and dances. About midnight, the King, the ambassadors, and six others withdrew, disguised themselves as Venetian noblemen, returned, and took out ladies to dance, the King having Anne Boleyn for his partner.
8 A royal choice, because it has a kin^f for its object.
9 That is, waggishly, or mischievously. Shakespeare often uses unhappy and its derivatives in this sense. See Much Ado, page 53, note 32.
74 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I.
Pr'ythee, come hither : what fair lady's that ?
Cham. An't please your Grace, Sir Thomas Boleyn's daughter, — The Viscount Rochford, — one of her Highness' women.
King. By Heaven, she is a dainty one. — Sweetheart, I were unmannerly, to take you out,
And not to kiss you.^^ \_Kisses her.'] — A health, gentlemen ! Let it go round.
Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready r the privy chamber?
Lov. Yes, my lord.
Wol. Your Grace,
I fear, with dancing is a little heated.
King. I fear, too much.
Wol. There's fresher air, my lord.
In the next chamber.
King. Lead in your ladies, every one : — sweet partner, I must not yet forsake you : let's be merry. — Good my Lord Cardinal, I've 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.
10 A kiss was anciently the established fee of a lady's partner. Thus in " A Dialogue between Custom and Veritie, concerning the Use and Abuse of Dauncing and Minstrelsie " :
But some reply, what foole would daunce,
If that when daunce is doon He may not have at ladyes lips
That which in daunce he woon.
11 Measure is the old name of a slow-measured dafice, such as was used on special occasions of state and ceremony.
12 The use of this phrase for " let the music play," or strike up, probably sprung from beating time, or the beating of drums.
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 75
ACT II. Scene I. — London. A Street. Enter two Gentlemen, meeting,
1 Gent, Whither away so fast?
2 Gent, O, God save ye ! E'en to the hall, to hear what shall become
Of the great Duke of Buckingham.
1 Gent, ril save you That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony Of bringing back the prisoner.
2 Gent. Were you there ?
1 Gent, Yes, indeed, was I.
2 Gent, Pray, speak what has happen'd.
1 Gent, You may guess quickly what.
2 Gent. Is he found guilty ?
1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't.
2 Gent, I'm sorry for't.
1 Gent, So are a number more.
2 Gent, But, pray, how pass'd it?
I Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke Came to the bar ; where to his accusations He pleaded still, not guilty, and alleged Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. The King's attorney, on the contrary. Urged on th' examinations, proofs, confessions Of divers witnesses ; which the duke desired To have brought, viva voce, to his face : At which appear'd against him his surveyor ;
^6 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IL
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor ; and John Car, Confessor to him ; with that devil-monk, Hopkins, that made this mischief.
2 Gent, That was he
That fed him with his prophecies ?
/ Gent, The same.
All these accused 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 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himself?
1 Gent, When he was brought again to th' bar, to hear His knell wrung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd
With such an agony, he swet extremely.
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty :
But he fell to himself again, and sweedy
In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.
2 Gent. I do not think he fears death.
1 Gent, Sure, he does not ; He never was so womanish : the cause
He may a little grieve at.
2 Gent, Certainly The Cardinal is the end of this.
I Gent, 'Tis likely,
By all conjectures : first, Kildare's attainder, Then deputy of Ireland ; who removed, Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too, Lest he should help his father. ^
1 There was great enrnitie betwixt the eardinall and the earle, for that on a time, when the eardinall tooke upon him to ehecke the earle, he had
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
77
^ ^^^^' That trick of State
Was a deep-envious one.
^ G^^^' 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.
^ ^^^^' All the commons
Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience. Wish him ten fathom deep : this duke as much They love and dote on ; call him bounteous Buckingham, The mirror of all courtesy, —
^ G^^^t. 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 : 7vith him Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir William Sands, a?id comi^ion People. 2 Gent, Let's stand close,^ and behold him.
^'''^' 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 received a traitor's judgment,
like to have thrust his dagger into the cardinall. At length there was occa- sion offered him to compasse his purpose, by the earle of Kildare's com- ming out of Ireland. Such accusations were framed against him that he was committed to prison, and tlien by the cardinals good preferment the earle of Surrie was sent into Ireland as the Kings deputie. there to remaine rather as an exile than as lieutenant, as he himself well perceived — HOL- INSHED.
2 That is. will find employment /?r. The Poet has many like instances of prepositions understood.
3 Close is secret, or out of sight. Often so.
78 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. act il
And by that name must die : yet, Heaven bear witness,
And if I have a conscience, let it sink me,
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
More than I dare make faults. You few that loved 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.
Lov, I do beseech your Grace, for charity. If ever any malice in your heart Were hid against me, now forgive me frankly.
Buck, 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 ;
4 Envy is continually used for malice in old English. We have the same sense a little before in " That trick of State was a di^^\>- envious one." — " Take peace with " here evidently means forgive or pardon. Shakespeare has no instance, I think, of the phrase so used.
k
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 79
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 me, Shall cry for blessings on him : may he live Longer than I have time to tell his years ! Ever beloved and loving may his rule be ! And, when old time shall lead him to his end, Goodness and he fill up one monument !
Lov, To th' 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.
Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas,
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 raised head against usurping Richard, Flying for succour to his servant Banister, Being distressed, was by that wretch betray'd. 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,
5 The name of the Duke of Buckingham most generally known was Staf- ford; it is said that he affected the surname of Bohun, because he was Lord High-Constable of England by inheritance of tenure from the Bohuns.
80 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II
Restored me to my honours, and, out of ruins,
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Henry the Eighth, Hfe, honour, name, and all
That made me happy, at one stroke has taken
For ever from the world. I had my trial,
And must needs say a noble one ; which makes me
A little happier than my wretched father :
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes : Both
Fell by our servants, by those men we loved 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
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've done ; and God forgive me !
\_Excu7if Buckingham and train. I Gent. O, this is full of pity ! — Sir, it calls, I fear, too many curses on their heads
6 That is, loose of tongue, or given to blabbing your own secrets. So in Othello, iii. 3 :
There are a kind of men so loose of soul That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs.
"^ Rub is hindrance or obstruction. So in Hamlet's celebrated soliloquy : " Ay, there's the ruby
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. J
That were the authors.
^ ^^'^^- If the duke be guiltless,
'Tis full of woe : yet I can give you inkling Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, Greater than this.
1 Gent. Good angels keep it from us ! What may it be ? You do not doubt my faith,^ sir?
2 Ge7it. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require A strong faith to conceal it.
^ ^^^^' Let me have it;
I do not talk much.
2 Gent, I am confident ;
You shall, sir : did you not of late days hear
A buzzing 9 of a separation
Between the King and Catharine ?
' ^'''^' Yes, but it held not ^
For, when the King once heard it, out of anger He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues That durst disperse it.
^ ^^«^- But that slander, sir,
Is found a truth now : for it grows again Fresher than e'er it was ; and held ^o 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,
« Faith iox fidelity: still sometimes used in that sense. 9 A buzzing is a whispering or a rumour. Often so used. ^ We have the same elliptical form of expression a little before in i v And held current music too." That is. "and be held." Here "and " //i
82 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II
Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately ; As all think, for this business.
/ Gent, 'Tis the Cardinal ;
And merely to revenge him on the Emperor For not bestowing on him, at his asking, Th' archbishopric of Toledo,^i this is purposed.
2 Gent, I think youVe hit the mark : but is't not cruel That she should feel the smart of this ? The Cardinal Will have his will, and she must fall.
I Gent, 'Tis woeful.
We are too open here to argue this ; Let's think in private more. \Exeunt,
Scene II. — The Same, An Ante-cka^nber in the Palace.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a letter,
Cham. My lord : The horses your lordship sent for ^ with all the care I had, I saw well chosefi, ridden, and fur- nish''d. They were young and ha7idso7ne, and of the best breed in the North, WJien they ivere ready to set out for London, a mafi of my Lord Cardinal's, by comfjiission and main power, took ''em from me ; imth 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.
11 This was the richest See in Europe, and was considered the highest ecclesiastical dignity in Christendom next to the Papacy. Wolsey did in fact aspire to it as a stepping-stone to St. Peter's Chair; and his disappoint- ment therein was among his alleged causes for urging on the divorce.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. go
Ente7' the Dukes ^^ Norfolk rt^;;^ Suffolk. ^ Nor. Well met, my Lord Chamberlain. Cham. Good day to both your Graces. Suf. How is the King employ'd ?
^'^^'^^ I left him private,
Full of sad thoughts and troubles.
^^^- What's the cause?
Cham. It seems the marriage with his brother's wife Has crept too near his conscience.
^* No, his conscience
Has crept too near another lady.
^^^- Tis 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.
Suf. -Pray God he do ! he'll never know himself else.
Nor. How holily he works in all his business ! And with what zeal ! for, now he has crack'd the league Tween us and th' 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 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
1 Charles Brandon, the present Duke of Suffolk, was son of Sir William Brandon slain by Richard at the battle of Bosworth. He was created Duke of Suffolk m February. 1514. and in March. 1515. was married to Mary youngest sister of the King, and widow of Louis the Twelfth of France
84 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT Ih
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, Will bless the King : and is not this course pious ?
Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel ! 'Tis most true These news are everywhere ; every tongue speaks 'em, And every true heart weeps for't : all that dare Look into these affairs see his main end, — The French King's sister.- Heaven will one day open The King's eyes, that so long have slept upon This bold bad man.
Suf. And free us from his slavery.
Nor. 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 Unto what pitch he please.
Suf. For me, my lords,
I love him not, nor fear him ; there's my creed : As I am made without him, so Fll stand. 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.
Nor. Let's in ;
And with some other business put the King From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon
him : — My lord, you'll bear us company?
Cham. Excuse me ;
^ It was tlio main end or object of Wolsey to bring about a marriage be- tween Henry and the French King's sister, the Ducliess of Alencon.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 8?
The King has sent me otherwhere : besides, You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him. Health to your lordships !
^^^'' Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain.
\_Exit Lord Chamberlain. Norfolk opens a/o/duig- door. The King is discovered sittiiig, and read- ing pensively. Suf. How sad he looks ! sure, he is much afflicted. King. Who's there, ha ?
^^''' Pray God he be not angry.
King. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust your- selves Into my private meditations? Who am I, ha?
Nor. 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.
^^^^S' YeVe too bold :
Go to ; ril make ye know your times of business : Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha? —
Enter Wolsey and Campeius. Who's there? my good Lord Cardinal? O my Wolsey, The quiet of my wounded conscience ; Thou art a cure fit for a king. — [71; Campeius.] You're
welcome. 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.^
3 The meaning appears to be, "Let eare be taken that my promise be performed, that my professions of welcome be not found empty talk."
86 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II
WoL Sir, you cannot.
I would your Grace would give us but an hour Of private conference.
King. \_To Nor. and^xjv,'] We are busy; go.
Nor, \_Asidd to SuF.] This priest has no pride in him !
Suf. \^Aside to Nor.] Not to speak of:
I would not be so sick^ though for his place. But this cannot continue.
Nor, [Aside to Suf.] If it do, I'll venture one have-at-him.
Suf. [Aside to Nor.] I another.
[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk.
WoL Your Grace has given a precedent of wisdom 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,^ I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms Have their free voices,"^ Rome, the nurse of judgment, Invited by your noble self, hath sent
4 That is, so sick as he is proud.
5 Spaniard is here equivalent to Spanish, as appears by they referring to it. Adjectives singular were often thus used with the sense of plural sub- stantives. *
6 A clerk is, in the original meaning of the word, a scholar ; and in old times, when learning was confined to the clergy, the word grew to mean a clergyman.
7 Sent, at the end of the next line, is probably to be understood here. Such is Singer's explanation. — Voices for opinions ox judgments. The ques- tion of the divorce was in fact laid before all or most of the learned bodies in Europe, who sent forward their opinions in writing; but it is pretty well understood that some of their " free voices " were well paid for.
SCENE 11. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 87
One general tongue unto us, this good man, This just and learned priest. Cardinal Campeius, Whom once more I present unto your Highness.
King. And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome. And thank the holy Conclave ^ for their loves : They've sent me such a man I would have wish'd for.
Cam. Your Grace must needs deserve all strangers'^ loves, 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. TwoequaH^ men. The Queen shall be acquainted Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner?
WoL I know your Majesty has always loved her So dear in heart, not to deny her that ^^ A woman of less place might ask by law, — Scholars allow'd freely to argue for her.
King. Ay, and the best she shall have ; and my favour To him that does best : God forbid else. Cardinal, Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary : I find him a fit fellow. \^Exit Wolsey.
8 The holy Conclave is the College of Cardinals, in whose name Cam- peius was sent AS special Legate in the business. His right name is Cam- peggio. He was an eminent canonist, and arrived in London, October 7, 1528, but in such a state of suffering and weakness, that he was carried in a litter to his lodgings.
9 Strangers here v[\ii2iX\^ foreigners.
1^ By the virtue of which; referring to the commission.
11 Equal is impartial ; men equally favourable to both the parties.
12 In old English, that is very often used for the compound relative wfuit that which.
88 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II
Re-enter Wolsey, with Gardiner.
Wol, {Aside to Gard.] Give me your hand : much joy and favour to you ; You are the King's now.
Gard. {Aside to Wol.] But to be commanded For ever by your Grace, whose hand has raised me.
King, Come hither, Gardiner. {They converse apart.
Cam, My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace In this man's place before him?
WoL Yes, he was.
Cam, Was he not held a learned man?
Wol, Yes, surely.
Ca7n. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread, then, Even of yourself, Lord Cardinal.
WoL How ! of me ?
Cam. 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 grieved him. That he ran mad and died.
Wol, Heaven's peace be with him ! That's Christian care enough : for living murmurers There's places of rebuke. He was a fool ; For he would needs be virtuous : that good fellow, ^^ If I command him, follows my apj)ointment : I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother, We live not to be griped by meaner persons.
King, Deliver this with modesty to th' Queen. —
{Exit Gardiner.
13 Kept him employed abroad, or in foreign parts. Holinshed says that Wolsey grew jealous of Dr. Pace's staiiding with the King, and so kept shifting him off on frivolous or unimportant embassies, till " at length he took such grief therewith, that he fell out of his right wits."
14 He means Gardiner ; a " good fellow " because unscrupulous.
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 8q
The most convenient place that I can think of
For such receii)t 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
So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience,
O, 'tis a tender place 1 and I must leave her. {^Exeunt,
Scene III, — The Same. An Ante-chamber in the Queen's Apartments,
Enter Anne Boleyn and an old Lady.
Anne. Not for that neither : here's the pang that pmches : His Highness having lived 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 enthroned, Still growing in majesty and pomp, the which To leave's a thousand-fold more bitter than 'Tis sweet at first t' acquire, — after this process. To give her the avaunt! it is a pity Would move a monster.
^^^^ ^' Hearts of most hard temper
Melt and lament for her.
^ ^^^^^^- O, God's will ! much better
She ne'er had known pomp : though't be temporal, Yet, if that fortune's quarrel do divorce
ISA rather odd expression; but meaning "for the reception of such learned men." Receipt, Iiowever, for the thmg received occurs elsewhere. See King Richard the Second, page 44, note 26.
90 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II.
It from the bearer, ^tis a sufferance panging As soul and body's severing.
Old Z. Alas, poor lady !
She is a stranger now again.
Anne, So much the more
Must pity drop upon her. Verily, I swear, 'tis 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 Z. Our content
Is our best having.
Anne. By my troth and maidenhood,
I would not be a queen.
Old L. Beshrew me, I would.
And venture maidenhood 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 — Saving your mincing i — the capacity Of your soft cheveril conscience ^ would receive, If you might please to stretch it.
1 Mincing is affectation. To mince is, properly, to cut up fine, as in mak- ing mince-r^&dX. Hence it came to be used of walking affectedly, that is, with very short steps, and so of affected behaviour generally. So in Isaiah, iii. i6 : " The daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched-forth necks and wanton eyes, mincing as they go, and making a tinkling with their feet."
2 Meaning the same as the " india-rubber consciences " of our time ; cheveril being leather made of kid-skin, which was peculiarly yielding and stretchy. See Twelfth Night, page 83, note 4.
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 9I
Anne, Nay, good troth, —
Old L. Yes, troth, and troth : you would not be a queen ?
Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven.
Old L. 'Tis strange j a three-pence bovv'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 L, Then you are weakly made : pluck off a little ; ^ I would not be a young count in your way, 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 L. In faith, for little England
You'd venture an emballing : "* I myself Would for Carnarvonshire, although there long'd No more to th' crown but that. Lo, who comes here ?
Enter the Lord Chamberlain.
Cham, Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know The secret of your conference ?
Anne, My good lord.
Not your demand ; it values not your asking : Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.
Cha7n. It was a gentle business, and becoming The action of good women : there is hope All will be well.
3 Anne declining to be either a queen or a duchess, the old lady says " pluck off a little " ; let us descend a little lower, and so diminish the glare of preferment by bringing it nearer your own quality.
4 That is, you would venture to be distinguished by the ball, the ensign of royalty, used with the sceptre at coronations.
92 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT :
Anne. Now, I pray God, amen !
Cham, You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings 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 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 1 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 ; Whose health and royalty I pray for.
Cham. ^ Lady,
I shall not fail t' approve the fair conceit^ The King hath of you. — \^Aside.'\ I've perused 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 6 all this isle?— {^To her.'} V\\ to the King,
5 To approve is here to confirm, by the report he shall make, the good opinion the King has formed.
6 The carbuncle was supposed to have intrinsic light, and to shine in the dark ; any other gem may reflect light but cannot give it. Thus in a Pal- ace described in Aniadis de Gaule, 1619 : " In the roofe of a chamber hung two lampes of gold, at the bottomes whereof were enchased two carbuncles,
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 93
And say I spoke with you.
Anne. My honoiir'd lord.
[ Exif Lord Chamberlain.
Old L. Why, this it is ; see, see ! I have been begging sixteen years in Court, — 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 c6mpeird fortune ! — have your rnouth filPd up Before you open't.
Anne. This is strange to me.
Old L. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence,^ no. There was a lady once — 'tis an old story — That would not be a queen, that would she not, For all the mud in Egypt : have you heard it ?
Anne. Come, you are pleasant.
Old L. With your theme, I 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 more thousands : honour's train Is longer than his foreskirt.^ By this time I know your back will bear a duchess : say, Are you not stronger than you were ?
A^ine. Good lady,
Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
which gave so bright a splendour round about tlic roome, tliat there was no neede of any other hght."
7 Forty pence was in those days the proverbial expression of a small wager.
8 Meaning, of course, that still ampler honours are forthcoming to her: or that the banquet will outsweeten the foretaste.
94 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II.
And leave me out on't. Would I had no being, If this salute my blood ^ a jot : it faints me, To think wjiat follows. The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetful In our long absence : pray, do not deliver What here youVe heard to her.
Old L. What do you think me ?
\^Exeunt,
Scene IV. — The Same, A Hall in Black- Friars,
Trumpets^ sennet, and cornets. Enter tzvo Vergers, with short silver 7vands ; next them, two Scribes, in the habit of doctors ; after the7?i, the Archbishop of Canterbury ^ alone , after him, the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asaph ; next the^n, with some small distajice, follows a Gentleman bearing the purse, with the great seal, and a cardinals hat ; then two Priests, bearing each a silver cross ; then a Gentleman-usher bare-headed, accompanied with a Sergeant-at-arms bearing a silver 7nace ; then two Gentle- men bearing two great silver pillars ; after thefn, side by
9 ''Salute my blood" means about the same as raise or exhilarate my spirits. The phrase sounds harsh ; but blood is often put for passion, or for the passions generally ; and to salute easily draws into the sense of to encour- age, or to stimulate by encouragement. So in the Poet's 121st Sonnet :
For why should others' false-adulterate eyes Give salutation to my sportive blood ?
1 At this time, June 21, 1529, the Archbishop of Canterbury was William Warham, who died in August, 1532, and was succeeded by Cranmer the following March. — The whole of this long stage-direction is taken verbatiin from the original copy, and in most of its particulars was according to the actual event. — The " two priests bearing each a silver cross," and the " two gentlemen bearing two great silver pillars," were parts of Wolsey's official pomp and circumstance ; the one being symbolic of his office as Archbishop of York, the other of his authority as Cardinal Legate.
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 95
side, the two Cardinals, Wolsey ^;2^Campeius ; two Noble- men with the sword and inace. Then enter the King aiid Queen, and their trains. The King takes place under the cloth of state ; the two Cardinals sit imdcr him as judges. The Queen takes place at some distance from the King. The Bishops place themselves on each side the court, ifi manner of a consistory ; between the??i, the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The Crier and the rest of the Attendants stand i?i convenient order about the hall.
Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is read, Let silence be commanded.
King, What*s the need ?
It hath already publicly been read, And on all sides th' authority allow'd ; You may, then, spare that time.
Wol. Be't so. — Proceed.
Scribe. Say, Henry King of England, come into the court.
Crier. Henry King of England, &c.
King. Here.
Scribe. Say, Catharine Queen of England, come into the court.
Crier. Catharine Queen of England, &c.
\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.^
Cath. 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,
2 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. — Cavendish.
96 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II
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.
And take your good grace from me ? Heaven witness,
IVe 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 inchned. When was the hour
I ever contradicted your desire.
Or made it not mine too? Which of your friends
Have I not strove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy ? what friend of mine,
That had to him derived your anger, did I
Continue in my liking? nay, gave not notice
He was from thence discharged ? 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.
Turn me away ; and let the fouFst contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To th' sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir.
The King, your father, was reputed for
3 Indifferent in its old sense of impartial.
^ Aught is understood before " Against your sacred person."
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 97
A prince most prudent, of an excellent
And unmatch'd 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
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 advised ; whose counsel
I will implore : if not, i' the name of God,
Your pleasure be fulfill'd !
Wo/. 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 That longer you defer the court ; as well For your own quiet, as to rectify What is unsettled in the King.
Ca7Ji. His Grace
Hath spoken well and justly : tlierefore, madam, It's fit this royal session do proceed ; And that, without delay, their arguments Be now produced and heard.
Cath. Lord Cardinal, —
To you I speak.^
5 The acting of Mrs. Siddons has been much celebrated as yielding an apt connmentary on this passage. The effect, it would seem, must have been fine ; but perhaps the thing savours overmuch of forcing the Poet to express another's thoughts. As thus interpreted, the Queen begins a reply to Campeius ; and then, some movement taking place, she forthwith changes
98 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IL
Wol. Your pleasure, madam ?
Cafh. Sir,
I was 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'll turn to sparks of fire.
WoL Be patient yet.
Cath. I will, when you are humble ; nay, before^ Or God will punish me. I do believe. Induced 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 Refuse*^ you for my judge ; whom, yet once more, I hold my most malicious foe, and think not At all a friend to truth.
WoL I do profess
You speak not like yourself ; who ever yet Have stood to charity, and display 'd th' 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've proceeded,
her purpose, turns round to Wolsey, and most pointedly and with the ut- most dignity of injured virtue directs her speech to him, making you very emphatic.
6 Challenge here is a law term. The criminal, when he refuses a jury- man, says, " I challenge him."
'^ Abhor and 7-efuse are not the mere words of passion, but technical terms of the canon law : detestor and recuso. The former, in the language of can- onists, signifies no more than I protest against. — Blackstone.
SCENE IV. KING HKNRV THK KIGIITIT.
99
Or how far further shall, is warranted
By a commission from the Consistory,
Yea, the whole Consistory of Rome. \'oii charge me
That I have blown this coal : I do deny it.
The King is present : if 't 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. But, 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
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.
Cath. My lord, my lord,
I am a simple woman, much too weak
T^ oppose your cunning. You're meek-and-humble-mouth'd \ 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. Gone slightly o'er low steps, and now arc mounted Where powers are your retainers ; and your words, Domestics to you, serve your will as't please
8 You have tJi appearance meekness and liumility, as a token or ouhvard sign of your place and calling. But perhaps Heath's explanation is better : "You testify your high rank in the Church, and your priestly character, by that meekness and humility, the semblance of which you know perfectly well how to assume. Every one knows that attestations are authenticated by signing them ; whence, I suppose, by a pretty violent catachresis, the Poet substituted the verb sign, instead of the more simple and obvious one, attest."
lOO . <.\ KI^G-^Hl^NRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II
Yourself pft-onounGC'.their office.^ I must tell you,
You tender mDre 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 judged by him.
[^S/ie curtsies to the King, and offers to depart
Cam, The Queen is obstinate,
Stubborn to justice, apt t' accuse it, and Disdainful to be tried by't : 'tis not well. She's going away.
King, Call her again.
Crier, Catharine Queen of England, come into the court.
Grif, Madam, you are call'd back.
Cath, What need you note it? pray you, keep your way : When you are call'd, return. — Now, the Lord help me ; They vex me past my patience ! — Pray you, pass on : I will not tarry ; no, nor ever more Upon this business my appearance make In any of their courts.
[^Exeunt Queen, Griffith, and her other Attendants.
King, Go thy ways, Kate :
That man i' the world who shall report he has A better wife, let him in nought be trusted,
9 This passage has exercised the commentators a good deal, and is in- deed rather obscure ; though T suspect the obscurity is owing mainly to the great compression of language. I take the meaning to be something thus : Now you have full power to work your will^ and therefore use words as men use domestics^ merely as they will serve your ends, without any regard to truth. Powers^ plural, for the power of doing various things, whatever he may wish. Are your retainers seems equivalent to are entirely at your will and pleasure.
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH, 101
For speaking false in that : thou art, alone — If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, Thy meekness saint-hke, wife-like government, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts Sovereign and pious else, could speak tliee out — The queen of earthly queens. — She's noble born ; And, like her true nobility, she has Carried herself towards me.
WoL 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 Fm 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 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, 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 excused :
i*> Require, in old language, is often the same as request. Shakespeare has it so repeatedly. Thus in Macbeth, iii. 4 : " In best time we will require her welcome." And in Coriolanus, ii. 3 : " Once, if he do require our voices."
102 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II.
But will you be more justified? you ever
Have wished the sleeping of this business ; never
Desired it to be stirr'd ; but oft have hindered, 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 moved me to't,
I will be bold with time and your attention :
Then mark th* inducement. Thus it came ; give heed to't :
My conscience first received a tenderness^
Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
By th' 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 : i' 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
The bottom of my conscience, enter'd me.
Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble
The region of my breast ; which forced such way.
That many mazed considerings did throng,
And pressed in with this caution. First, methought
This was a judgment on me, that my kingdom.
Well worthy the best heir o' the world, should not
11 The King, having first addressed Wolsey, breaks off; and declares upon his honour to the whole court, that he speaks the Cardinal's mind upon the point in question.
12 Respecting^ here, is considering. So the usual meaning of the substan- tive respect was consideration. See King John, page 128, note 5.
i3 Both sometimes and sometime often had the sense oi formerly.
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. IO3
Be gladded in't 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 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 Plow under my oppression I did reek. When I first moved you.
Lin. Very well, my liege.
King. I have spoke long : be pleased yourself to say How far you satisfied me.
Lin. 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. I then moved you,
My Lord of Canterbury ; and got your leave To make this present summons : — unsolicited I left no reverend person in this court ;
14 The phrase belongs to navigation. A ship is said to hull when she is dismasted, and only her hull or hulk is left to be driven to and fro by the waves. So in the Alarm for London, 1602: " And they lye hulling up and down the stream."
I04 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II.
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, drive 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,
Catharine our Queen, before the primest creature
That's paragoned ^^ o' the world.
Cam. So please your Highness,
The Queen being absent, 'tis 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 HoHness. \^T/iey rise to depart.
King, \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, Pr'ythee, return : ^^ with thy approach, I know. My comfort comes along. — Break up the court : I say, set on. \_Exeunt in rnanner as they entered,
15 To be paragoned is to be compared, or to admit of rivalry or compar- ison. Shakespeare has the word several times as a verb. So in Othello, ii. 2 : "A maid that paragons description and wild fame." Here the word evi- dently means rivals or exceeds. So, again, in Antony and Cleopatra, i. 5 : " I will give thee bloody teeth, if thou with Caesar paragon again my man of men."
16 The King, be it observed, is here merely thinking aloud. Cranmer was at that time absent on a foreign embassy.
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. IO5
ACT III.
Scene I. — London, Palace at Bridewell : a Room in the Queen's Apartment,
The Queen and some of her Women at work,
Cath, Take thy lute, wench : ^ my soul grows sad with troubles ; Sing, and disperse 'em, if thou canst : leave working.
Song.
Orpheus with his lute made trees ^ And the mountain-tops that freeze,
Bow themselves, when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as'^ Sun and showers
There had made a lasting Spring,
Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads, and then lay by? In sweet music is such art. Killing^ care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or, hearing, die,
1 Wench, generally implying some disparagement, is here used as a familiar term of kindness or endearment. Wretch, a still stronger word, is repeatedly used by the Poet in a similar way.
2 As for as if; a very frequent usage with the old poets.
3 To lay by is a nautical term for to slacken sail, and so means to become quiet or composed,
* Killut^ is here used as an adjective, not as a participle.
I06 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT III.
Enter a Gentleman.
Cath, How now !
Gent, An't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals Wait in the presence.^
Cath, Would they speak with me ?
Gent, They will'd me say so, madam.
Cath, Pray their Graces
To come near. \_Exit Gent.] — What can be their business With me, a poor weak woman, fall'n from favour? I do not like their coming, now I think on't. They should be good men ; their affairs are righteous : But all hoods make not monks. ^
Enter Wolsey and Campeius.
Wol, Peace to your Highness !
Cath, Your Graces find me here part of a housewife : I would be all, against the worst may happen. What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords ?
Wol. May't please you, noble madam, to withdraw Into your private chamber, we shall give you The full cause of our coming.
Cath, Speak it here ;
There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience, Deserves a comer : would all other women
5 Presence for presence-chamber , the room where Majesty received company.
6 Being churchmen, they should be virtuous, and every business they undertake as righteous as their sacred office : but all hoods make not monks. In allusion to the Latin proverb, Cucullus non facit vionachum, to which Chaucer also alludes :
Habiie ne inaketh monke ne frere ; But a clene life and devotion, Maketh gode men of religion.
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 10/
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 Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw 'em, Envy and base opinion set against *em, I know my life so even. If your business Do seek me out, and that way I am wife in,"^ Out with it boldly : truth loves open dealing.
Wol. Ta7ita est erga te mentis integritas, regina serenis- sima, —
Cath. O, good my lord, no Latin ; I am not such a truant since my coming, As not to know the language I have lived 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 absolved in English.
Wol. Noble lady,
I'm sorry my integrity should breed So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant, And service to his Majesty and you. 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,
"^ The expression is certainly very odd ; but the meaning probably is, "and with reference to that question or matter which concerns me as a wife."
I08 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT ill.
Like free and honest men, our just opinions, And comforts to your cause.
Cam. Most honoured 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.
Cath, \^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 !
WoL Madam, you wrong the King's love with these fears : Your hopes and friends are infinite.
Cath. 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,
SCENE I. KING IIKNRY THE EIGHTH. ICK)
They that must weigh out^ my afflictions, They that my trust must grow to, Hve not here : They are, as all my other comforts, far hence. In mine own country, lords.
Cam, I would your Grace
Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.
Cath, How, sir?
Cam. Put your main cause into the King's protection \ He's loving and most gracious : 'twill be much Both for your honour better and your cause ; For, if the trial of the law o'ertake ye. You'll part away disgraced.
Wol. He tells you rightly.
Cath, 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 That no king can corrupt.
Cam. Your rage mistakes us.
Cath. The more shame for ye :^ holy men I 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 The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.
Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction ;
^ Weigh out for weigh ; that is, coiisidcr them, do justice to them.
9 If I mistake you, it is by your fault, not mine ; for I thought you good.
no KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. act ll
You turn the good we offer into envy.^^
Cath, Ye turn me into nothing : woe upon ye, And all such false professors ! Would you have me — If you 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, 'has banish 'd me his bed already. His love, too long ago ! I'm old, my lords. 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.
Cam, Your fears are worse.
Cath, Have I lived 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? loved him next Heaven? obey'd him? Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him ? Almost forgot my prayers to content him ? And am I thus rewarded? 'tis 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.
WoL Madam, you wander from the good we aim at.
Cath. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty. To give up willingly that noble title
1^ Envy, agfain, for malice. See page 78, note 4.
11 A woman constant to her husband. Constant in the sense oi faithful.
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I I I
Your master wed me to : nothing but death Shall e'er divorce my dignities.
IVo/, l^ray, hear me.
Ca/k, Would I had never trod this English earth, Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it ! Ye've angels' faces, but Heaven knows your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched lady ! I am the most unhappy woman living. — \^Tc) her Women.] Alas, poor wenches, where are now youi
fortunes ! Shipwreck'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 once was mistress of the field and flourish'd, I'll hang my head and perish.
WoL If your Grace
Could but be brought to know our ends are honest, 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 'em. For goodness' sake, consider what you do ; How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly 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.
Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues With these weak women's fears : a noble spirit,
112 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT HI.
As yours was put into you, ever casts
Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The King loves you ;
Beware you lose it not : for us, if please you
To trust us in your business, we are ready
To use our utmost studies in your service.
Cath, Do what ye will, my lords : and, pray, forgive me, If I have used 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 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. — The Same. Ante-chamber to the King's Apart- ment in the Palace.
Enter the Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of Suffolk, the Earl ^Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Nor. 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 more new disgraces, With these you bear already.
Sur. I am joyful
To meet the least occasion that may give me
1 Force for enforce, press^ or ur^^e. So in Measure for Measure^ iii. i : " That thus can make him bite the law by th' nose when he would force it."
SCENE IL KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. II3
Remembrance of my father-in-law, the (hike, To be revenged on him.
Suf. 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?
Cham. 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 w^ay^ to us, — I much fear. If you cannot Bar his access to th' King, never attempt Any thing on him ; for he hath a witchcraft Over the King in's tongue.
Nor. 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.
Sur. Sir,
I should be glad to hear such news as this Once every hour.
Nor, Believe it, this is true :
In the divorce his contrary proceedings Are all unfolded ; wherein he appears As I would wish mine enemy.
Sur. How came
His practices to light ?
2 The force of not in unconfemvd extends over strangely neglected. The Poet has many instances of similar construction.
3 That is, opens a way, gives us an opportunity. So in Julms Ccssar, ii. 5: " Security ^/W^ way to conspiracy."
I 14 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT III
Suf, Most Strangely.
Sur, O, how, how"?
Suf. The Cardinal's letter to the Pope miscarried, And came to th' 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, / do, quoth he, perceive My King is tangled in affection to A creature of the Queen's, Lady Anne Boleyn.
Sur. Has the King this ?
Suf, Believe it.
Sur, Will this work ?
Cham, The King in this perceives him, how he coasts And hedges his own way.^ But in this point All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic After his patient's death : the King already Hath married the fair lady.^'^
Sur, Would he had !
Suf, May you be happy in your wish, my lord ! For, I profess, you have it.
Sur. Now, all joy
Trace ^ the conjunction !
Suf, My amen to't !
Nor, All men's !
4 To coast is to hover about, to pursue a sidelong course about a thing. To hedge is to creep along by the hedge, not to take the direct and open path, but to steal covertly through circumvolutions.
5 The date commonly assigned for the marriage of Henry and Anne is November 14, 1532 ; at which time they set sail together from Calais, the King having been on a visit to his royal brother of France. Lingard, follow- ing Godwin, Stowe, and Cranmer, says they were privately married the 25th of January, 1533.
6 To trace is \o follow or attend.
SCENE II. KINCx HENRY THE EIGHTH. IIS
Suf. 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 Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall In it be memorized."^
Sur, But will the King
Digest this letter of the Cardinal's ? The Lord forbid '
Nor, Marry, amen !
Suf, No, no ;
There be more wasps that buzz about his nose Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius Is stol'n 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 The King cried Ha ! at this.
Cham. Now, God incense him,
And let him cry Ha ! louder !
Nor. But, my lord,
When returns Cranmer?
Suf. He is return'd in his opinions ;^ which
■^ To memorize is to 7nake inemorable. So in Macbeth, i. 2 : " Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, or viemorize another Golgotha, I cannot tell."
^ Cranmer, then one of the King's chaplains, had been on a special mis- sion to advocate the divorce at Rome, and to collect the opinions of learned canonists and divines in Italy and elsewhere. Doubtless these are the opin- ions meant in the text. The using of in with the force of as to, or in respect of, has occasioned some doubt as to what is meant by opinions. Cranmer has returned in effect^ by sending on the opinions.
Il6 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT III-
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. Catharine no more Shall be call'd queen, but princess dowager And widow to Prince Arthur.
Nor. This same Cranmer's
A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain In the King's business.
Suf, He has ; and we shall see him
For it an archbishop.
Nor, So I hear.
Suf, Tis so.
The Cardinal !
Enter Wolsey and Cromwell.
Nor, Observe, observe, he's moody.
Wol. The packet, Cromwell, gave't you the King?
Croifi. To his own hand, in's bedchamber.
WoL Look'd he o' the inside of the papers ?
Croin, Presently
He did unseal them : and the first he view'd, He did it with a serious mind ; a heed Was in his countenance. And you he bade Attend him here this morning.
WoL Is he ready
To come abroad?
Cro7n, I think, by this he is.
WoL Leave me awhile. — \^Exit Cromwell.
It shall be to the Duchess of Alengon The French King's sister : he shall marry her.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 11/
Anne Boleyn ! No ; I'll no Anne P>oleyns for him :
There is more in it than fair visage. Boleyn !
No, we'll no Boleyns. Speedily I wish
To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke !
Nor, He's discontented.
Suf, May be, he hears the King
Does whet his anger to him.
Sur. Sharp enough,
Lord, for Thy justice !
WoL The late Queen's gentlewoman, a knight's daughter, To be her mistress' mistress ! the Queen's queen ! This candle burns not clear : 'tis 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 slie should lie i' the bosom of Our hard-ruled 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.
Nor, He's vex'd at something.
Sur, I would 'twere something that would fret the string. The master-cord on's heart !
Suf, The King, the King !
Enter the King, reading a schedule^ and Lovell.
King, What piles of wealth hath he accumulated To his own portion ! and what expense by th' hour Seems to flow from him ! How, i' the name of thrift, Does he rake this together ? — Now, my lords. Saw you the Cardinal ?
Nor, My lord, we have
Il8 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
Stood here observing him : some strange commotion Is in his brain : he bites his Hp, 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 then anon he casts His eye against the Moon : in most strange postures We've seen him set himself.
King, It may well be
There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning Papers of State he sent me to peruse, As I required : 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.^
Nor. It's Heaven's will :
Some spirit put this paper in the packet.
9 This incident, in its application to Wolsey, is a fiction : he made no such mistake ; but, another person having once done so, he took occasion thereby to ruin him. The story is told by Holinshed of Thomas Ruthall, Bishop of Durham ; who was accounted the richest subject in the realm ; and who, having by the King's order written a book setting forth the whole estate of the kingdom, had it bound up in the same style as one before written, set- ting forth his own private affairs. At the proper time the King sent Wolsey to get the book, and the Bishop gave him the wrong one. " The cardinall, having the booke, went foorthwith to the king, delivered it into his hands, and breefelie informed him of the contents thereof; putting further into his head, that if at anie time he were destitute of a masse of monie, he should not need to seeke further than to the cofers of the bishop. Of all which when the bishop had intelligence, he was stricken with such greefe, that he shortlie ended his life in the yeare 1523."
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I IQ
To bless your eye withal.
King. If we did think
His contemplation were above the Earth, And fix'd on spiritual objects, he should still Dwell in his musings : but I am afraid His thinkings are below the Moon, not worth His serious considering. [ Takes his seat, and whispers Lov-
ELL, who goes to WOLSEY.
WoL Heaven forgive me ! —
Ever God bless your Highness !
King. Good my lord,
You're 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 To keep your earthly audit : sure, in that I deem you an ill husband, ^^ and am glad To have you therein my companion.
WoL 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,
10 That is, leisure for spiritual exercises. The King seems biting him with irony; as if his leisure were so filled up with spiritual concerns, that he could not spare any of it for worldly affairs. " Keep your earthly audit " means, apparently, look after your temporal interests, or audit, that is, verify, your secular accounts.
11 Husband, as here used, is manager. So wc have husbandry for wa«- agement. These senses come naturally from the primitive sense of husband, which is house band; that which keeps the house in order, and so makes it a home.
I20 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IlL
Must give my tendance to.
King. You have said well.
IVoL And ever may your Highness yoke together, As I will lend you cause, my doing well With my well saying !
King. 'Tis well said again ;
And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well : And yet words are no deeds. My father loved you : He said he did ; and with his deed did crown His word upon you. Since I had my office, Fve kept you next my heart ; have not alone Employ'd you where high profits might come home, But pared my present havings, ^^ to bestow My bounties upon you.
Wol. \_Aside.'] What should this mean?
Sur. \_Aside to the Others.'] The Lord increase this busi- ness !
King. 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 ?
Wol. 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,
12 Having, as often, ior possession, or what one has. Pared, of course, is lessened, r educed ^ or impaired.
13 Which refers, no doubt, to royal graces, not to purposes. He means that the King's favours to him were greater than any man could possibly merit.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 121
Vet filed with my abilities : ^"^ mine own ends Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed To th' 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, Fairly answer 'd ;
A loyal and obedient subject is 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, As 'twere in love's particular, be more To me, your friend, than any.^^
Wol. I do profess
That for your Highness' good I ever labour'd More than mine own ; that I 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 'em, and Appear in forms more horrid, yet my duty — - As doth a rock against the chiding flood —
14 That is, kept pace, walked in the samcyf/^, with my abilities.
15 " Besides your bond of duty as a loyal and obedient servant, you owe a particular devotion to me as your special benefactor."
122 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT III,
Should the approach of this wild river break, And stand unshaken yours.
King. 'Tis nobly spoken. —
Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast. For you have seen him open't. — Read o'er this ; And, after, this : [ Giving him papers,
and then to breakfast with What appetite you have. \_Exit, frowning upon Wolsey : the Nobles throng after him, smiling and whispering.
WoL 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. — 'Tis so ; This paper has undone me : 'tis th' account Of all that world of wealth I've 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 'twill 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 th' Pope! The letter, as I Hve, with all the business I writ to's Hohness. Nay, then farewell ! I've 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
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 1 23
Like a bright exhalation ^^ in the evening, And no man see me more.
Re-e7iter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Earl 0/ Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain.
Nor. Hear the King's pleasure. Cardinal ; who commands you To render up the Great Seal presently Into our hands ; and to confine yourself To Asher-house,!"^ my Lord of Winchester's, Till you hear further from his Highness.
Wol, Stay ;
Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry Authority so weighty.
Si/f. Who dare cross 'em,
Bearing the King's will from his mouth expressly ?
Wol. 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 disgrace. 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've Christian warrant for 'em, and, no doubt,
16 Exhalatioji was often used in a way now quite out of date. Here it probably means what we call a 77icteor. See King John, page 98, notes 16 and 19; also, 1 Henry IV., page 54, note 3.
1" Asher was the ancient name of Esker, in Surrey. The author forgot that Wolsey was himself Bishop of Winchester, having succeeded Bishop Fox in 1528, holding the see in commendam. Esher was one of the episco- pal palaces belonging to that see.
18 An apt instance oi envy for malice; also, oi envious for malicious.
124 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT III.
In time will find their fit rewards. That seal,
You ask with such a violence, the King —
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'll take it?
Sur, The King, that gave it.
WoL It must be himself, then.
Sur, Thou'rt a proud traitor, priest.
WoL Proud lord, thou liest :
Within these forty hours Surrey durst better Have burnt that tongue than said so.
Stir. 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 — Weighed not a hair of his. Plague of your policy ! You sent me deputy for Ireland ; Far from his succour, from the King, from all That might have mercy on the fault thou gavest him : Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
19 Such is the old form of writing what we call letters-patent; which are public official documents granting or securing certain rights to the persons named therein ; like a certificate of copyright.
2<^ I have already noted that the Poet continues the same persons Duke of Norfolk and Earl of Surrey through the play. Here the Earl is the same who had married Buckingham's daughter, and had been shifted off out of the way, when that great nobleman was to be struck at. In fact, however, he who, at the beginning of the play, 1520, was Earl, became Duke in 1525. At the time of this scene the Earl of Surrey was the much-accomplished Henry Howard, son of the former ; a man of fine genius and heroic spirit, afterwards distinguished alike in poetry and in arms, and who, on the mere strength of royal suspicion, was sent to the block in 1547.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 1 25
Absolved him with an axe.
Wol. 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 loved many words, lord, I should tell you You have as httle honesty as honour ; That in the way of loyalty and truth Toward the King, my ever royal master, I Dare mate^^ a sounder man than Surrey can be. And all that love his foUies.
Sur. 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. Farewell nobility ; let his Grace go forward, And dare us w^ith his cap like larks. -^
Wol. All goodness
Is poison to thy stomach.
Sur. Yes, that goodness
Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one,
21 To mate, here, is to match, to compete with, to challenge.
22 Jaded is overcrowed, overmastered. The force of this term may be best understood from a proverb given by Cotgrave, in v. Rosse, Q.jade. " II n'est si bon cheval qui n'en deviendroit rosse : It would anger a saint, or crest/all the best man living to be so used."
23 A cardinal's hat is scarlet, and the method of daring larks is by small mirrors on scarlet cloth, which engages the attention of the birds while the fowler draws his nets over them.
126 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT III.
Into your own hands, Cardinal, by extortion ;
The goodness of your intercepted packets
V'ou writ to th' Pope against the King : your goodness,
Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious. —
My Lord of Norfolk, — as you're truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state
Of our despised 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'll startle you.
WoL How much, methinks, I could despise this man, But that I'm bound in charity against it !
Nor, Those articles, my lord, are in the King's hand : But, thus much, they are foul ones.
Wol. So much fairer
And spotless ^^ shall mine innocence arise, When the King knows my truth.
Siir. This cannot save you :
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'll show a little honesty.
WoL Speak on, sir ;
I dare your worst objections : if I blush. It is to see a nobleman want manners.
Sur, I had rather want those than my head. Have at you ! First, that, without the King's assent or knowledge. You wrought to be a Legate ; by which power
24 The more, virtually implied in fairer, extends its force over spotless , " so much more fair and spotless." See 2 Henry IV., page 156, note 2.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 12/
You maimVl the jurisdiction of all bishops.-'"'
Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else To foreign princes, Ego et Rex mens Was still inscribed ; in which you brought the King To be your servant.^^
Suf' Then, that, without the knowledge
Either of King or Council, when you went Ambassador to th' Emperor, you made bold To carry into Flanders the Great Seal.
Sur. Item, you sent a large commission To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude. Without the King's will or the State's allowance,^^ A league between his Highness and Ferrara.
Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have caused
25 A Legate, as the term is here used, was a special representative of the Pope. If admitted or resident in a country, he could, by virtue of his lega- tine commission, overrule or supersede, for the time being, the local author- ity of the Bishops. For this cause, all exercise of such powers had been prohibited in England by special statute. Nevertheless Wolsey had in fact got himself made Legate, and this with the full approval of the King, though both of them knew the thing to be unlawful. But the King's approval did not justify the minister.
26 These several charges are taken almost literally from Holinshed, where the second item reads thus: " In all writings which he wrote to Rome, or anie other forren prince, he wrote Ego et rex mens, I and my King ; as who would saie that the king were his servant." In the Latin idiom, however, such was the order prescribed by modesty itself. And, in fact, the charge against Wolsey, as given from the records of Lord Herbert, was not that he set himself above or before the King, but that he spoke of himself along with him : " Also, the said lord cardinal, in divers and many of his letters and instructions sent out of this realm, had joined himself with your grace, as in saying and writing, — The king afid I would ye should do thus ; — The king and I give you our hearty thanks : whereby it is apparent that he used himself more like a fellow to your highness than like a subject."
27 Allowance in its old sense of approval, or sanction, probably. The Poet has both the noun and the verb repeatedly in that sense.
128 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT III.
Your holy hat be stamp'd on the King's coin.^®
Sur, Then, that youVe 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 th' 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.
Cham, O my lord,
Press not a falling man too far ! 'tis 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.
Sur. I forgive him.
Suf. 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 th' compass oi 2i prcemunire,^^ — That therefore such a writ be sued against you ; To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements. Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be Out of the King's protection : this is my charge.
Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations How to live better. For your stubborn answer
28 This was one of the articles exhibited against Wolsey, but rather with a view to swell the catalogue than from any serious cause of accusation ; in- asmuch as the Archbishops Cranmer, Bainbridge, and Warham were indulged with the same privilege.
29 Mere in the sense of utter or absolute ; a frequent usage.
^^ The judgment in a writ oi prcBmunire (a barbarous word used instead oi prcBtnonere) 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.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 1 29
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.
\_Exeit?if all but WolsEY: Wol. 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 The tender leaves of hope ; 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 ventured, 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, 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 opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! 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 ; And, when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. —
31 " Their ruin " is the ruin which tliey inflict ; their referring to princes : what is technically called the subjective genitive. So in ii. 3, of this play: " And free us from his slavery " ; that is, the slavery imposed by him. See, also, The Tempest, page 138, note 23.
I30 KING HENRY THE EIGHT?!. ACT III
E7itc7- Cromwell, amazedly.
Why, how now, Cromwell 1 Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.
Wol. What, amazed
At my misfortunes ? can thy spirit wonder A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, I'm fall'n indeed.
Crom, How does your Grace ?
Wol. 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 cured me, I humbly thank his Grace ; and from these shoulders. These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy, too much honour. O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden Too heavy for a man that hopes for Heaven !
Cro7Jt. Fm glad your Grace has made that right use of it
WoL I hope I have : I'm able now, methinks — Out of a fortitude of soul I feel — T' endure more miseries and greater far Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. What news abroad?
Crom. The heaviest and the worst
Is your displeasure ^^ with the King.
lYoL God bless him !
Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord Chancellor in your place.
-'^2 Here "your displeasure" is the displeasure which you have incurred,
or of which you are the object; hence called the objective genitive.
SCENE II. KINO IIKNRV THE EIGHTH. I3I
IVoL 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 ?
Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome,
Install'd Lord Archbishop of Canterbury.
WoL That's news indeed.
Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne,
Whom the King hath in secrecy long married, This day was view'd in open '^'^ as his Queen, Going to chapel ; and the voice is now Only about her coronation.
WoL 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.^s Go, get thee from me, Cromwell ;
33 The Lord Chancellor is the general guardian of orphans. 'M tomb of tears'/ says Johnson, " is very harsh." Steevens has adduced an Epigram of Martial, in which the Heliades are said to " weep a tomb of tears " over a viper. Drummond, in his Teares for the Death of Mceliadcs, has the same conceit :
The Muses, Phncbiis, I>ove, have raised of their teares A crystal torn/) to him, through which his worth appears.
34 In open is a Latinism. " Et castris in apcrto positis," Liv. i. 33 ; that is, in a place exposed on all sides to view.
35 The number of persons who composed Cardinal Wolscv's household, according to the authentic copy of Cavendish, \\?iS five hundred. Caven- dish's work, though written soon after the death of Wolsey, was not printed
132 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT III.
I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master : seek the King ;
That sun, I pray, may never set ! I've told hnn
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.
Croni. O my lord,
Must I, then, leave you? must I needs forgo 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.
Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced 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, 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 wreck, to rise in ;
till 1641, and then in a most garbled manner, the object of the publication having been to render Laud odious, by showing how far Church power had been extended by Wolsey, and how dangerous that prelate was, who, in the opinion of many, followed his example. In that copy we read that the num- ber of his household was eight hundred persons. In other Mss. and in Dr, Wordsworth's edition, it is stated at 07ie hundred and eighty persons. 36 Use and usance were common terms for interest ox profit
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 133
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?
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 :
Let 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, — pr'ythee, lead me in :
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny ; 'tis the King's : my robe.
And my integrity to Heaven, is all
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell !
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my King, He would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Crom, Good sir, have patience.
Wol. So I have. Farewell
The hopes of Court ! my hopes in Heaven do dwell.
\^Exeunt.
134 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IV.
ACT IV.
Scene I. — A Street in Westminster. Enter two Gentlemen, meeting,
1 Gent. You're well met once again.
2 Gent, So are you.
1 Gent, You come to take your stand here, and behold The Lady Anne pass from her coronation ?
2 Gent, Tis all my business. At our last encounter The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial.
1 Gent, Tis very true : but that time offered sorrow ; This, general joy.
2 Gent, Tis well : the citizens,
I'm sure, have shown at full their loyal minds — As, let 'em have their rights, they're ever forward — In celebration of this day with shows. Pageants, and sights of honour.
1 Gent, Never greater, Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.
2 Gent, May I be bold to ask what that contains, That paper in your hand ?
1 Gent, Yes ; 'tis 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.
2 Gent, I thank you, sir: had I not known those cus
toms,
SCENE 1. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I35
I should have been beholding to your paper. But, I beseech you, what's become of Catharnie, The princess dowager ? how goes her business ?
/ Gent, 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 oft cited by them, but appear'd not : 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 removed to Kimbolton, Where she remains now sick.
2 Gent, Alas, good lady ! \_Trumpets,
The trumpets sound : stand close, the Queen is coming.
The Order of the Procession. A lively flourish of trumpets. Then enter,
1. Two Judges.
2. Z<?r^/ Chancellor, luith the purse and mace before him.
3. Choristers, singing. \_Music.
4. Mayor of London, hearing the mace. Then Garter, in
his coat-ofarms,"^ and on his head a gilt copper cro7un.
5. Marquess Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head
1 " Lately held a court " is the meaning, of course.
2 Great, strong, mighty, arc among the old senses of main. So in Ham let, i. 3 : " No further than the main voice of Denmark goes withal."
3 That is, the marriage lately considered valid.
* His coat of ofifice, emblazoned with the royal arms.
136 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT iv.
a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver with the dove, crowned with an earPs coroiiet. Collars of esses?
6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his
head, bearing a long white wand, as high-steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of marshalship, a coro?iet o?i his head. Collars of esses.
7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports ;^ under it,
the Queen in her robe; her hair richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side of her, the Bishops of London and Winchester.
8. The 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 gold
without flowers .
A royal train, believe me. These I know ; Who's that that bears the sceptre ?
1 Gent. Marquess Dorset ; And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod.
2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman. That lord should be The Duke of Suffolk?
1 Gent. 'Tis the same ; High-Steward.
2 Gent. And that my Lord of Norfolk?
5 In the account of the coronation, the author follows Hall, who says that " such as were knights had collars of esses." A collar of esses was probably so called from the -5'-shaped links of the chain-work. Sometimes there were ornaments between the esses. It was a badge of equestrian nobility. Its origin is unknown.
6 "Y\\Q five ports were Dover, Hastings, Hythe, Romney, and Sandwich* to which Rye and Winchelsea were afterwards added. The jurisdiction of them was vested in barons for the better protection of the English coast. Hall says that " the Cinque-ports claimed to bear the canopy over the queen's head, the day of the coronation."
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 1 37
1 Gent. Yes.
2 Gent, [Looking on the Queen.] Heaven bless thee ! Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on. —
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel ; Our King has all the Indies in his arms. And more and richer, when he clasps that lady : I cannot blame his conscience.
1 Gent. They that bare The cloth of honour o'er her are four barons Of the Cinque-ports.
2 Gent, Those men are happy ; and so are all are near
her. I take it, she that carries up the train Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk.
1 Gent, It is ; and all the rest are countesses.
2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed.
1 Gent. And sometimes falling ones.
2 Gent. No more of that.
[Exit procession, with a great flourish of trumpets.
Enter a third Gentleman.
/ Gent, God save you, sir ! where have you been broiling?
3 Gent. Among the crowd i' th' abbey ; where a finger Could not be wedged in more : I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.
2 Gent, You saw the ceremony?
3 Gent. That I did.
1 Gent. How was it?
3 Gent, Well worth the seeing.
2 Gent, Good sir, speak it to us.
3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream Of lords and ladies, having brought the Queen
138 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IV
To a prepared place in the choir, fell off
A distance from her ; while her Grace sat down
To rest awhile, 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 Gent But what follow'd?
J Gent, At length her Grace rose, and with modest paces Came to the alter ; where she kneel'd, and, saint-like, Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray VI 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,^ And with the same full state paced back again
"^ Music for musicians^ or musical instruments ; a common figure. ^ The Poet often uses part for depart. So in iii. 2 : " I Ic/ar/t'^ frowning from me." See, also, The Winter s Tale, page 40, note 2.
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH 1 39
To York-place, where the feast is held/*^
/ Gent, Sir, you
Must no more call it York-place, that is past ; For, since the Cardinal fell, that title's lost : Tis now the King's, and call'd Whitehall.
J Gent. I know it ;
But 'tis so lately alter'd, that th' old name Is fresh about me.
2 Gent. What two reverend bishops
Were those that went on each side of the Queen ?
J Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one of Winchester, Newly preferr'd from the King's secretary ; ^^ The other, London.
2 Gent. He of Winchester
Is held no great good lover of th' Archbishop's, The virtuous Cranmer.
J Gent. All the land knows that :
However, yet there is no great breach ; when it comes, Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him.
2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you ?
J Gent. Thomas Cromwell ,
A man in much esteem wi' th* King,^* and truly A worthy friend. The King Has made him master o' the jewel-house. And one, already, of the Privy-Council.
9 The coronation of Anne took place June i, 1533; the divorcement of Catharine having been formally pronounced the 17th of May.
1^ That is, lately promoted from being the King's secretary, or from the office of secretary. This use oiio prefer was common.
11 This play has many instances of the elided, so as to coalesce with a preceding word ; as by th\for th\ to t/i , Sec. Here we have a double elision oiwith and the, so as to make one syllable of them. The Poet often has it so. See The Tempest, page 47, note 16.
140 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IV
2 Gent. He will deserve more.
J Gent. Yes, without all doubt.
Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which Is to the Court, and there shall be my guests : Something I can command. As I walk thither, I'll tell ye more.
Both. You may command us, sir. . \_Exeunt
Scene II. — Kimbolton. Enter Catharine, sick ; led between Griffith and Patience.
Grif. How does your Grace ?
Cath. O Griffith, sick to death !
My legs, like loaden branches, bow to th' earth. Willing to leave their burden. 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 deadpi
Grif. Yes, madam ; but I thought your Grace,
Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't.
Cath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he died ; If well, he stepp'd before me, happily ,2 For my example.
Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam :
For, after the stout Earl Northumberland Arrested him at York, and brought him forward —
1 Wolsey died Nov. 29, 1530; and the events of this scene did not occur till January, 1536, which was more than two years after the event that closes the play.
2 Happily is sometimes used by Shakespeare for haply, per adventur e ; but it here more probably means opportunely.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I4I
As a man sorely tainted ^ — to his answer, He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill He could not sit his mule.^
C^i^i' Alas, poor man !
Grif. At last, with easy roads,^ he came to Leicester Lodged in the abbey ; where the reverend Abbot, With all his convent, honourably received him ; To whom he gave these words, O father Abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of State, Is come to lay his wea?y bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity I 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.
Cath, So may he rest ; his faults lie gently on him ! Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, And yot with charity. He was a man Of an unbounded stomach,^ ever ranking
3 I am not quite clear in what sense tainted is used here. Sometimes the word means touched; as in 3 Henry VI., iii. i : "And Nero will be tainted with remorse"; that is. touched ^^^ih compassion. Sometimes it means attainted or under an attainder; that is, an impeachment.
4 Cardinals generally rode on mules, as a mark perhaps of humility Cavendish says that Wolsey "rode like a cardinal sumptuously upon his mule, trapped altogether in crimson velvet and gilt stirrups."
5 Roads, or rodes, here, is the same as courses, stages, ox journeys.
6 Stomach was often used for pride or haughtiness. The Chronicles abound in passages showing up this trait in Wolsey 's character Thus • " It fortuned that the archbishop of Canterbury wrote to the cardinall anon after that he had received his power legantine, the which letter after his old
142 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IV
Himself with princes ; one that by suggestion Tithed 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 : His promises were, as he then was, mighty ; But his performance, as he now is, nothing ; Of his own body he was ill, and gave The clergy ill example.'''
Grif, 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 ?
Cath, Yes, good Griffith ;
I were malicious else.
Grif, This Cardinal,
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle. He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ;
familiar maner he subscribed, Your brother WilHam of Canterburie'. With which subscription he was so much offended, that he could not temper his mood, but in high displeasure said that he would so worke within a while, that he should well understand how he was his superiour, and not his brother." — ''Tithed all the kingdom " means took a tenth part, or, as we should say, ten per cent., of all the income of the nation. Hall relates that he once claimed from the citizens of London a tithe of their substance.
7 This speech was evidently founded upon the following, copied by Hol- inshed from Hall : " This cardinall was of a great stomach, for he compted himselfe equall with princes, and by craftie suggestion got into his hands innumerable treasure : he forced little on simonie, and was not pittifull, and stood affectionate in his own opinion : in open presence he would lie and seie untruth, and was double both in speech and meaning: he would prom- ise much and perform little : he was vicious of his bodie, and gave the clergie evill example, '
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I43
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading : Lofty and sour to them that loved 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 raised in you, Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell with him. Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; ® The other, though unfinish'd, 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.^ Cath, After my death I wish no other herald, No other speaker of my living actions. To keep mine honour from corruption,
8 This is commonly, perhaps rightly, explained to mean " the goodness that founded it." See Critical Notes.
9 This speech is formed on the following passage in Holinshed : " This cardinal! was a man undoubtedly born to honour ; exceeding wise, faire- spoken, high-minded, full of revenge, vitious of his bodie ; loftie to his enemies, were they never so big, to those that accepted and sought his friendship wonderful courteous ; a ripe schooleman ; thrall to affections, brought a-bed with flatterie; insatiable to get, and more princelie in bestow- ing; as appeareth by his two colleges at Ipswich and Oxenford, the one overthrown with his fall, the other unfinished, and yet, as it lyeth, for an house of studentes incomparable throughout Christendome. A great pre- ferrer of his servants, an advauncer of learning, stoute in every quarrel, never happy till this his overthrow ; wherein he shewed such moderation, and ended so perfectlic, that the houre of his death did him more honour than all the pomp of his life passed."
144 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT iv.
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom 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 named my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to. \^Sad and solei^in music,
Grif. 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, clad in white robes, wearing on their heads gar- lafids of bays, and golden visards 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 reverent 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 obser7)e the same order ; at which (as it were by inspiration^ she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven : and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. The fnusic continues.
Cath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? are ye all gone, And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye ?
Grif Madam, we're here.
Cath. It is not you I call for :
Saw ye none enter since I slept ?
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I45
G^if' None, madam.
Cath, No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop Invite me to a banquet ; whose bright faces Cast thousand beams upon me, Hke the Sun ? They promised me eternal happiness ; And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel I am not worthy yet to wear : I shall, Assuredly.
Grif, I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams Possess your fancy.
Cath. Bid the music leave ;
They're harsh and heavy to me. iMiisic ceases.
Pat [Aside to Grif.] Do you note
How much her Grace is altered on the sudden ? How long her face is drawn ? how pale she looks. And of an earthy colour ? Mark her eyes !
Grif. [Aside to Pat.] She's going, wench : pray, pray.
Pat, [Aside to Grif.] Heaven comfort her !
Enter a Messenger. Mess, An*t like your Grace, —
^^^^' #You are a saucy fellow :
Deserve we no more reverence ?
^^if' You're to blame.
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness, To use so rude behaviour : 'o go to, kneel.
Mess. I humbly do entreat your Highness' pardon ;
10 (
' Queen Catharine's servants, after the divorce at Dunstable, were di- rected to be sworn to serve her not as queen but as princess dowager. Some refused to take the oath, and so were forced to leave her service ; and as for those who took it and stayed, she would not be served by them, by which means she was almost destitute of attendants.
146 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IV.
My haste made me unmannerly. There's staying A gentleman, sent from the King, to see you.
Cath. Admit him entrance, Griffith : but this fellow Let me ne'er see again. — [^^r^;;/ Griffith and Messenger.
Re-enter Griffith, with Capucius.
If my sight fail not, You should be lord ambassador from th' Emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Capucius.
Cap, Madam, the same ; your servant.
Cath, 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 ?
Cap. 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.
Cath. O my good lord, that comfort comes too late ; 'Tis like a pardon after execution : That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me ; But now Fm past all comforts here, but prayers. How does his Highness ?
Cap, Madam, in good health.
Cath. 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, I caused you write, yet sent away?
Pat. No, madam.
{^Giving it to Catharine.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 14/
Cath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the King ; —
Cap, Most willing, madam.
Cath, — 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 ; — She's 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 loved 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 Have foUow'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 o' the poorest, But poverty could never draw 'em from me ; — That they may have their wages duly paid 'em. And something over to remember me by : If Heaven had pleased t' have given me longer life And abler means, we had not i)arted thus. These are the whole contd-nts.^^ And, good my lord,
11 Model here means image or representation. An old usage.
12 Even though he be a nobleman.
1'^ Here is the letter, as given by Lord Herbert : " 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 heaUh,
148 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IV.
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.
Cap, By Heaven, I will,
Or let me lose the fashion of a man !
Cath, I thank you, honest lord. Remember me In all humility unto his Highness : Say to him 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 Fm dead, good wench, Let me be used with honour : strew me over With maiden flowers,i^ 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. \Exeunt, leading Catharine.
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 your- self into many troubles. But I forgive you all, and pray God to do so like- wise. For the rest, I commend unto you Mary, our daughter, beseeching you to be a good father to her, as I have hitherto desired. I must entreat you also to respect my maids, and give them in marriage (which is not much, they being but three), and to my other servants a year's pay besides their due, lest otherwise they should be unprovided for. Lastly, I make this vow, that mine eyes desire you above all things. Farewell."
1* At the burial of maidens, it was the custom to scatter flowers in the grave. So at the burial of Ophelia, in Hamlet, v. i : " She is allow'd her virgin crants, her maiden strewments" ; and the Queen strews flowers, with the words, " I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, and not have strew'd thy grave."
KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I49
ACT V.
Scene I. — Londo7i. A Gallery in the Palace,
Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a torch before him.
Gard, It's one o'clock, boy, is't not?
Boy, It hath struck.
Gard. These should be hours for necessities, Not for delights ; ^ times to repair our nature With comforting repose, and not for us To waste these times. —
Enter Sir Thomas Lovell.
Good hour of night. Sir Thomas ! Whither so late ?
Lov, Came you from the King, my lord ?
Gard. I did. Sir Thomas ; and left him at primero^ With the Duke of Suffolk.
Lov. I must to him too,
Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.
Gard. Not yet. Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter? It seems you are in haste : an if there be No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
1 Gardiner himself is not much delighted. The delights at which he hints seem to be the King's diversions, which keep him in attendance.
2 Primero, or prime, supposed to be the most ancient game of cards In England, was very fashionable in Shakespeare's time.
150 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V.
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.
Lov, 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'll with the labour end.
Gard, The fruit she goes with
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.
Lov. Methinks I could
Cry the amen ; and yet my conscience says She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does Deserve our better wishes.
Gard, 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, — 'Twill not. Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me, — Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, Sleep in their graves.
Lov, Now, sir, you speak of two
The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell, Besides that of the jewel-house, he's made Master O' the RoUs,^ and the King's secretary ; further, sir,
3 " Some touch of your late business " is explained by Johnson, " Some hint of the business that keeps you awake so late."
4 My own way of thinking in rehgion.
^ The Master of the Rolls is the officer who has charge of the patents and
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I5I
Stands in the gap and trade ^ of more preferments, With which the time will load him. Th' Archbishop Is the King's hand and tongue ; and who dare speak One syllable against him ?
Gard, Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,
There are that dare ; and I myself have ventured To speak my mind of him : and, indeed, this day — Sir, I may tell it you, I think — I have Incensed ^ 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 moved 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 To-morrow morning to the Council-board He be convented.^ He's a rank weed. Sir Thomas,
other instruments that have passed the great seal, and of the records of the chancery; while, again, the chancery is the court of the Lord Chancellor, to decide cases of equity, the highest court of judicature in England next to Parliament. — "Besides that of the jewel-house" is besides the mastership of the jewels and other ornaments belonging to the crown.
6 Trade is, in general, a road or way ; that which is trodden. So in Udal's Apothegms : "Although it repent them of the trade or way that they have chosen." So that the gap and trade means simply the open road, or free course.
■^ Incensed or insensed in this instance, and in some others, only means instructed, informed: still used in Staffordshire. It properly signifies to infuse into the mind, \o prompt or instigate. " Invidiae stimulo mentes Patrum fodit Saturnia : Juno incenseth the senators' minds with secret envy against." — Cooper.
^ Have broken or opened the subject to him. Often so.
9 Convented is summoned or cited to meet his accusers. The word was much used in reference to trials under charges of heresy.
152 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V.
And we must root him out. From your affairs I hinder you too long : good night, Sir Thomas.
Lov, Many good nights, my lord : I rest your servant.
\_Exeunt Gardiner and Page.
As LovELL is going out, enter the King and the Duke oj
Suffolk.
King, Charles, I will play no more to-night ; My mind's not on't ; you are too hard for me.
Suf, Sir, I did never win of you before.
King. But little, Charles ; Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play. — Now, Lovell, from the Queen what is the news?
Lov. 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 great'st humbleness, and desired your Highness Most heartily to pray for her.
King. What say'st thou, ha?
To pray for her ? what, is she crying out ?
Lov. So said her woman \ and that her sufferance made Almost each pang a death.
King. Alas, good lady !
Suf. God safely quit ^^ her of her burden, and With gentle travail, to the gladding of Your Highness with an heir !
King. 'Tis midnight, Charles ;
Pr'ythee, to bed ; and in thy prayers remember Th' estate of my poor Queen. Leave me alone ;
1^ A rather peculiar use of quit, but meaning release or set free ; grant her ease, rest, or quiet; like the Latin quietus.
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 153
For I must think of that which company Would not be friendly to.
Suf. I wish your Highness
A quiet night ; and my good mistress will Remember in my prayers.
King, Charles, good night. —
S^Exit Suffolk.
Enter Sir Anthony Denny.
Well, sir, what follows ?
Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the Archbishop, As you commanded me.
King. Ha ! Canterbury ?
Den, Ay, my good lord.
King. Tis true : where is he, Denny?
Den, He attends your Highness' pleasure.
Ki7ig, Bring him to us.
\^Exit Denny.
Lov. \^Aside,'\ This is about that which the bishop spake : I'm happily i^ come hither.
Re-enter Denny, with Cranmer.
King. Avoid the gallery. [Lovell seems to stay.'\ Ha ! I have said. Be gone. What ! \_Exeunt Lovell and Denny.
Cran. \_Aside,'] I am fearful : wherefore frowns he thus ? 'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.
Kifig, How now, my lord ! you do desire to know Wherefore I sent for you.
11 Happily here means luckily, or opportujtely ; ab in page 140, note 2.
154 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH, ACT V.
Cran. \^Kneeling,~\ It is my duty
T' attend your Highness' pleasure.
King, Pray you, arise,
My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury. \^He rises.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together ; IVe 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 considered, Have moved us and our Council, that you shall 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.
Cran. \_K71eeling,'] I humbly thank your Highness ;
And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most throughly to be winnow'd,^^ where my chaff And corn shall fly asunder : for, I know. There's none stands under more calumnious tongues
12 " You being one of the Council, it is necessary to imprison you, that the witnesses against you may not be deterred."
13 Throughly and thoroughly, as also through and thorough, are used in- terchangeably by our old writers : in fact, the two are but different forms of the same word ; as to be thorough in a thing is to go through it. — Cran- mer has in mind St. Matthew, iii. 12 : " Whose fan is in his hand, and he will throughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner ; but he will burn up the chaff."
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
IS5
Than I myself, poor man.
King, Stand up, good Canterbury :
Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted In us, thy friend : give me thy hand, stand up : Pr^ythee, let's walk. {^Ile rises,'] 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 t' have heard you, Without indurance,!^ further.
Cran, 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.
Ki?tg, 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 The due o' the verdict with it : at what ease Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
14 Halidom, says Minsheu, 1617, is " an old word used by old country- women, by manner of swearing." According to Nares, it is composed of holy and doin, like kingdo77i. So that the oath is much the same as "by my faith!'
15 Indurance is here used for imprisonment, or being put or held in durance. The word is often used thus in the book whence the materials of this scene are drawn. So, likewise, in Montagu's Appeal to Ccssar : " If they arc not beneficed, their indurance is the longer ; the punishment allotted is one whole yeares imprisonment."
16 Not ever is uncommon, and means not always. See Much Ado, page 53, note 31.
15^ KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V.
To swear against you ! such things have been done. You're potently opposed ; and with a maUce Of as great size. Ween you of better luck, I mean, in perjured witness', than your Master, Whose minister you are, whiles here He lived Upon this naughty Earth ? Go to, go to ; You take a precipice for no leap of danger, And woo your own destruction.
Cran. God and your Majesty
Protect mine innocence, or I fall into The trap is laid for me !
King. Be of good cheer ;
They 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 Th' occasion shall instruct you : if entreaties Will render you no remedy, this ring [ Giving ring,
DeHver them, and your appeal to us There make before them. — Look, the good man weeps ! He's honest, on mine honour. God's bless'd 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 Cran.] — He has strangled His language in his tears.
Enter old Lady
Gent, \^Wit/iin,'] Comeback: what mean you? Old L. I'll not come back ; the tidings that I bring Will make my boldness manners. — Now, good angels
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 1 57
Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person Under their blessed wings !
^i^^S' Now, by thy looks
I guess thy message. Is the Queen delivered ? Say ay ; and of a boy.
O^^ ^- Ay, ay, my liege ;
And of a lovely boy : the God of Heaven Both now and ever bless her ! — 'tis a girl, Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your Queen Desires your visitation, and to be Acquainted with this stranger : 'tis as like you As cherry is to cherry.
King, Lovell !
Re-enter Lovell.
Lov, Sir?
King. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the Queen.
\^Exif.
Old L, An hundred marks ! By this light, I'll 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 W — Lobby before the Council- Chamber,
Enter Cranmer ; Servants, Door-keeper, 6-r., attending.
Craft. I hope I'm 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 !
158 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V,
Who waits there ? — Sure, you know me ?
D. Keep. Yes, my lord ;
But yet I cannot help you.
Cran. Why?
D. Keep, Your Grace must wait till you be call'd for.
Enter Doctor Butts. Cran, Sa
Butts, [AsiWe.^ This is a piece of malice. I am glad
I came this way so happily : the King
Shall understand it presently.
Cra7Z. [Aside.'] 'Tis Butts,
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,
Among boys, grooms, and lacqueys. But their pleasures
Must be fulfiird, and I attend with patience.
77ie King and Butts appear at a window above? Butts. I'll show your Grace the strangest sight, —
1 To sound, as the word is here used, is to report, or noise abroad.
2 The suspicious vigilance of our ancestors contrived windows which overlooked the insides of chapels, halls, kitchens, passages, &c. Some of these convenient peepholes may still be seen in colleges, and such ancient houses as have not suffered from the reformations of modern architecture. In a letter from Matthew Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1573, printed in Seward's Anecdotes : " And if it please her majestic, she may come in through my gallerie, and see the disposition of the hall in dynner time, at a window opening thereinto"
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
159
^^^S' What's that, Butts?
Butts. — I think, your Highness saw this many a day.
King. Body o' me, where is it ?
^^^^^- There, my lord :
The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury ; Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants. Pages, and footboys.
King. Ha ! 'tis he, indeed :
Is this the honour they do one another ? 'Tis 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 ;4
We shall hear more anon. {^Curtain drawn.
The Council-Chamber.^
Enter the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk, the Duke ^Norfolk, iS'^r/^ Surrey, Z^r^ 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
' Parted, here, is shared.
4 The curtain of the balcony or upper stage, where the King now is.
5 Here the audience had to suppose or imagine a change of scene, namely, from the Lobby before the Council-chamber to the interior of the same. In the Poet's time, people were contented to be told that the same spot, with, perhaps, some slight changes of furniture, or the drawing of a curtain, was at once the outside and the inside of the Council-chamber.
l60 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V.
7est seat themselves in order on each side, Cromwell at the lower end, as Secretary,
Chan, Speak to the business, master secretary : Why are we met in Council ?
Crom, Please your honours,
The chief cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury.
Gard. Has he had knowledge of it ?
Crom, Yes.
Nor, Who waits there ?
D, Keep, Without, my noble lords ?
Gard, Yes.
D. Keep. My lord Archbishop ;
And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.
Chan. Let him come in.
D. Keep. Your Grace may enter now.
[Cranmer approaches the Council- table,
Chan. My good lord Archbishop, Tm very sorry To sit here at this present, and behold That chair stand empty : but we all are men, 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
6 A very troublesome passage. Steevens explains it, " While they are capable of being invested with flesh " ; Staunton, ''Susceptible of fleshly temptations " ; Singer, " Susceptible of the failings inherent in humanity," In Hamlet, iv. 4, Ophelia is said to be " as one incapable of her own distress." Here incapable plainly means unconscious. See, also, Richard II!., p. 95, n. 3. So, in the text, I suspect capable has the sense of conscious. So that the meaning would seem to be, " In our own natures frail, and conscious of our frailty" or of our carnal will and tendency. Cranmer is charged with heresy^ and heresy was regarded as a work of the flesh. See Critical Notes.
SCENE 11. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. l6l
The whole reahn, 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.
Gard. Which reformation must be sudden too, 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 'em, 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. Yet freshly pitied in our memories.
Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress Both of my life and office, I have labour'd. 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,
7 Alluding to the monstrous fanaticisms that ran wild in Thuringia, under the leading of Thomas Muncer. in 1521. Hooker, in his Preface, says of them, "When they and their Bibles were alone together, what strange fan- tastical opinion soever at any time entered into their heads, their use was to think the Spirit taught it them." At length they got so bewitched or be- devilled with special licentious revelations, that the Elector of Saxony had to take them in hand with a military force.
l62 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V
Defacers of the 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.
Stif. Nay, my lord,
That cannot be : you are a counsellor. And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you.
Gard. My lord, because we've business of more moment^ We will be short with you. 'Tis 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.
Cran, Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you ; You're always my good friend : if your will pass, I shall both find your lordship judge and juror. You are so merciful. I see your end ; 'Tis my undoing. Love and meekness, lord. Become a churchman better than ambition : Win straying souls with modesty® again ; Cast none away. That I 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. I could say more, But reverence to your calling makes me modest.
8 Modesty in its old sense oi moderation ; that is, -mildness or gentleness.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I63
Gard. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary, That's the plain truth : your painted gloss discovers. To men that understand you, words and weakness.^
Croin. My Lord of Winchester, you are a little. By your good favour, too sharp ; men so noble, However faulty, yet should fmd respect For what they have been : 'tis a cruelty To load a falling man.
Gard, Good master secretary,
I cry your Honour mercy ; you may, worst Of all this table, say so.
Crom, Why, my lord?
Gard, Do not I know you for a favourer Of this new sect? ye are not sound.
Crom, Not sound?
Gard. Not sound, I say.
Crom, Would you* were half so honest !
Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears.
Gard. I shall remember this bold language.
Crom. Do.
Remember your bold life too.
Chan, This is too much :
Forbear, for shame, my lords.
Gard, I've done.
Crom, And I.
Chan. Then thus for you, my lord : It stands agreed, I take it, by all voices, that forthwith You be convey 'd to th' Tower a prisoner ;
9 "Those that understand you discover, beneath \W\s painted gloss or fair outside, nothing but empty talk and false reasoninr^." To gloss or to gloze was often used in the sense of to explain away, or to dress up in plausibili- ties. See Ki7ig Henry the I'ifth, page 46, note 7.
164 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V
There to remain till the King's further pleasure Be known unto us : — are you all agreed, lords ?
AIL We are.
Cran. Is there no other way of mercy,
But I must needs to th' Tower, my lords ?
Gard. What other
Would you expect? you're strangely troublesome. — Let some o' the guard be ready there ! Enter Guard.
Cran. Forme?
Must I go like a traitor thither ?
Gard, Receive him,
And see him sale i* the Tower.
Cran, Stay, good my lords,
I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords : By virtue of that ring I take my cause [^Showing ring.
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it To a most noble judge, the King my master.
Chan. This is the King's ring.i^
Sur, 'Tis no counterfeit.
Siif. 'Tis the right ring, by Heaven ! I told ye all, When we first put this dangerous stone a-rolling, 'Twould fall upon ourselves.
Nor, Do you think, my lords,
10 It seems to have been a custom, begun probably before the regal power came under legal limitations, for every monarch to have a ring, the temporary possession of which invested the holder with the same authority as the owner himself could exercise. The production of it was sufficient to suspend the execution of the law; it procured indemnity for offences com- mitted, and imposed acquiescence and submission to whatever was done under its authority. The traditional story of the Earl of Essex, Queen Eliz- abeth, and the Countess of Nottingham, long considered as an incident of a romance, is generally known, and now as generally credited.
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 16$
The King will suffer but the Httle finger Of this man to be vex'd ?
Chan, *'ris now too certain •
How much more is his life in value with him ! Would I were fairly out on't !
Crom, My mind gave me,
In seeking tales and informations Against this man, — whose honesty the Devil And his disciples only envy at, — Ye blew the fire that burns ye : now have at ye !
Enter the King, frowning on them ; he takes his seat
Gard. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to Heaven In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince ! Not only good and wise, but most religious ; One that, in all obedience, makes the Church The chief aim of his honour ; and, to strengthen That holy duty, out of dear respect, His royal self in judgment comes to hear The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
King, You were ever good at sudden commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not To hear such flatteries 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 takest me for, I'm sure Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody. — \To Cramner.] Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest,
11 " To me, whom you cannot reach, you play the spaniel."
l66 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V.
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.
Su7\ May't please your Grace, —
King. No, sir, it does not please me.
I had thought I 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 ? Why, what a shame was this ! Did my commission Bid ye so far forget yourselves ? I gave ye Power as he was a counsellor to try him, Not as a groom : there's some of ye, I see, More out of malice than integrity, Would try him to the utmost, had ye means ; Which ye shall ne'er have while I live.
Chan, Thus far.
My most dread sovereign, may it like your Grace To let my tongue excuse all : What was purposed Concerning his imprisonment, was rather — If there be faith in men — meant for his trial, And fair purgation to the world, than malice ; I'm sure, in me.
King, 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,
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I67
I have a suit which you must not deny me : There is a fair young maid that yet wants baptism ; You must be godfather, and answer for her.
Cran. The greatest monarch now aHve may glory In such an honour : how may I deserve it, That am a poor and humble subject to you ?
King, 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.
Gard. With a true heart
And brother-love I do it.
Cran. And let Heaven
Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation.
King. Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart: The common voice, I see, is verified Of thee, which says thus. Do my Lord of Canterbury A shrewd turn}'^ aiid he is your friend for ever. — Come, lords, we trifle time away ; I long
12 It was an ancient custom for the sponsors at christenings to offer silver or silver-gilt spoons as a present to the child. The ancient offerings upon such occasions were called Apostle-spoons, because the extremity of the han- dle was formed into the figure of one or other of the Apostles. Such as were opulent and generous gave the whole twelve ; those who were more moderately rich or liberal, escaped at the expense of the four Evangelists ; or even sometimes contented themselves with presenting one spoon only, which exhibited the figure of any saint in honour of whom the child re- ceived its name.
13 "A shreivdiwxvi'' is an unkind turn, or a sharp one; such being the proper sens(! o{ shrewd. The King has in mind tlie injunction, "love your enemies," and means a delicate compliment to Cranmer as acting in accord- ance with that divine precept.
l68 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V.
To have this young one made a Christian.
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain ;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain. [Exeunt
Scene III. — The Palace- Yard, Noise and tumult within. Enter a Porter and his Man.
Port, You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals : do you take the Court for Paris-garden ? i ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.2
[ Within. '\ Good master porter, I belong to the larder.
Port, Belong to the gallows, and be hang'd, ye 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'll scratch your heads : you must be seeing christenings ! do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals ?
Man, Pray, sir, be patient : 'tis as much impossible — Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons — To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep On May-day morning ; ^ which will never be ; We may as well push against Paul's as stir 'em.
Port, How got they in, and be hang'd ?
Man, Alas, I know not ; how gets the tide in ?
1 This celebrated bear-garden, on the Bankside, was so called from Robert de Paris, who had a house and garden there in the time of King Richard II. In Shakespeare's time it was noted for tumult and disorder, and was often alluded to by the writers of that day, as a place where bears, bulls, and horses were baited.
2 That is, shouting or roaring ; a. sense the word has now lost. Littleton, in his Dictionary^ has " To gape or bawl : vociferor."
3 Anciently the first of May was observed by all classes of Englishmen as a holiday. See A Midsummer ^ page 30, note 22.
SCENE III. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 169
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot — You see the poor remainder — could distribute, I made no spare, sir.
Port. You did nothing, sir.
Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand,"* To mow 'em down before me : but if I spared 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 my cow, God save her ! ^
[ Withi7i7\ Do you hear, master porter ?
Port. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy. — Keep the door close, sirrah.
Man. What would you have me do ?
Port. What should you do, but knock 'em down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in?^ or have we some strange Indian come to Court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a fry is at door !
Man. There is a fellow somewhat near the door ; he should
^ Sir Guy of Warwick and Colbrand the Danish giant were famous char- acters in some of the old romances. The story was that Sir Guy subdued the giant at Winchester.
5 That is, " I would not 7niss seeing a chine again." A chine of beef \s the article meant, which seems to have been held in special honour among the riches of an English table. So in Peele's play, The Old Wives' Tale : " A chine of English Beef, ?neal for a king." Staunton observes that " the ex- pression, ' my cow, God save her 1' or ' my mare, God save her ! ' or ' my sow, God bless her ! ' seems to have been proverbial ; thus, in Greene and Lodge's Loo king -Glass for London, 1598 : ' My blind mare, God bless her ! ' " He also shows that the expression " God save her! " applied to any beast, was regarded as a charm against witchcraft. So in Scot's Discovery of Witchcraft : " You shall hear a butcher or horse-courser cheapen a bullock or a jade, but, if he buy him not, he saith God save him ; if he do forget it, and the horse or bullock chance to die, the fault is imputed to the chap- man." — See Critical Notes.
* The trained bands of the city were exercised in Moorfields,
170 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V.
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 un- der 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 rail'd upon me till her pink'd porringer ^^ fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the State. I miss'd the meteoric once, and hit that woman, who cried out Clubs ! 1^ when I might see from far some forty trun- cheoners 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 with me : I defied 'em still ; when suddenly a file of boys behind 'em, loose shot,!^ deliver'd such a shower of pebbles, that I
"^ A brazier signifies a man that manufactures brass, and also a reservoir for charcoal occasionally heated to convey warmth. Both these senses are understood.
8 Under the equator^ where the heat is somewhat.
^ '* Fire- drake ; 2ifire sometimes seen flying in the night \\V!& 2i dragon. Common people think it a spirit that keepeth some treasure hid ; but philos- ophers affirme it to be a great unequal exhalation inflamed betweene two clouds, the one hot the other cold, which is the reason that it also smoketh ; the middle part whereof, according to the proportion of the hot cloud, being greater than the rest, maketh it seeme like a bellie, and both ends like unto a head and taile." — Bullokar's Expositor, 1616. K fire-drake appears to have been also an a.Ttif\c\a.\ firework.
10 Her pink'd cap, which looked^as if it had been moulded on a porringer. So in the Tke Taming of the Shrew, iv. 4 :
Hub. Here is the cap your Worship did bespeak. Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer.
11 The meteor is the brazier aforesaid.
12 Among the London apprentices, " clubs! clubs ! " was a common cry to the rescue. See As You Like It, page 126, note 4.
13 That is. loose or random shooters.
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I/I
was fain to draw mine honour in, and let 'em win the work : ^'^ the Devil was amongst 'em, I think, surely.
Port, 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.
Cham. 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 Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, When they pass back from the christening.
14 The work is ihQ fortress, the place they are besieging or assaulting.
15 The object-matter of these allusions has been variously disputed, and much learned rubbish has been gathered about them. The best explanation, it seems to me, is that of Dyce, who regards it as a " fling at the affected meekness of the Puritans." He adds, " ' The Tribulation of Tower-hill * evidently means some particular set or meeting of Puritans, and the ' Limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers,' another set." Limbs of course means members. In Ben Jonson's Alchemist, one of the characters is " Tribulation Wholesome, a Pastor of Amsterdam." It is well known how cordially the Puritans hated plays and theatres. Knight asks, " Is it not that the Puri- tans, hating playhouses, approved of the uproar of those who ' fight for bitten apples,' because it disturbed those that came to hear ? "
16 That is, in confinement. In Umbo continues to be a cant phrase in the same sense to this day. The Limbus Patrum is, properly, the place where the old fathers and patriarchs are supposed to be waiting for the resurrec- tion.
1"^ A public whipping. A banquet here is used for a dessert. To the con finement of these rioters a whipping was to be the dessert.
172 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT v.
Port. An't please your Honour,
We are but men ; and what so many may do, Not being torn a-pieces, we have done : An army cannot rule 'em.
Chain. As I live.
If the King blame me for't, I'll lay ye all By th' 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 ; 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'll find A Marshalsea^^ shall hold ye play these two months.
Port, Make way there for the Princess !
Ma7i. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll make your head ache !
Port. You i' the camlet, get up off the rail j I'll pick^i you o'er the pales else ! \Exeunt,
Scene lY.— The Palace.
Enter trumpets, sounding ; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk with his MarshaVs staff, Duke of Suffolk, two Noblemen bearing great
18 Lord Campbell tells us that " to lay by the heels was the technical ex- pression for committing to prison." See 2 Henry IV., page 70, note 18. i'^ A bombard or bumbard was a large leathern jack for holding liquor.
20 Marshalsea was the name of one of the prisons in London.
21 Pick and Peck appear to have been both of them old forms of pitch. Thus Baret : " To picke or cast!' And Stubbes in his Anatomy of Abuses : *' To catch him on the hip, and picke him on his necke."
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 1 73
standing-bowls ^ fo?' the christening-gifts ; then four Noble- men bearing a canopy, under which tJie Duchess of Nor- folk, godmother, bearing Jhe Child richly habited in a mantle, ^c, 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.
Gart, Heaven, from Thy endless goodness, send prosper- ous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty Princess of England, Elizabeth !
Flourish, Enter the King and Train,
Cran, \_K nee ling. "] And for 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. Thank you, good Lord Archbishop :
What is her name ?
Cran. Elizabeth.
King. Stand up, lord. —
[Cranmer rises. — The King kisses the Child. With this kiss take my blessing : God protect thee ! Into whose hand I give thy life.
Cran. Amen.
King. My noble gossips,^ ye have been too prodigal : I thank ye heartily ; so shall this lady. When she has so much English.
1 Standing-bowls were bowls elevated on feet or pedestals.
2 Gossip is an old term for sponsor or god-parent. See The Winter's Tale, page 76, note 5.
174 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH^ ACT v.
Cran, Let me speak, sir,
For Heaven now bids me ; and the words I utter Let none think flattery, for they'll 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 — 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 loved and fear'd : her own shall bless her ; 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 phoenix, Her ashes new create another heir. As great in admiration as herself;
^ So the name of Solomon's queen-pupil is spelt both in the Septuagint and the vulgate; such too is the old English form of it; though some have changed it here to Sheba, as it is in our authorized version.
SCENE IV. KING IIKNRY THE EIGHTH. 1/5
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 :
Wlierever the bright Sun of heaven shall shine.
His honour and the greatness of his name
Shall l)e, 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.
King. Thou speakest wonders.
Cran, 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, A most unspotted lily, shall she pass To th' ground, and all the world shall mourn her.
King. O Lord Archbishop, Thou hast made me now a man ! never before This happy child did I get any thing.
4 On a picture of King James, which formerly belonged to Bacon, and is now in the possession of Lord Grimston, he is styled Imperii Atlantici Con- ditor. In 1612 there was a lottery for the plantation of Virginia. The lines probably allude to the settlement of that colony.
^ Alluding, most likely, to the marriage of the King's daughter Elizabeth with the Elector Palatine, which took place in February, 1613. The mar- riage was a theme of intense joy and high anticipations to the English people, as it seemed to knit them up with the Protestant interest of Germany. The present royal family of England comes from that marriage.
176 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. EPILOGUE.
This oracle of comfort has so pleased 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 :
I have received 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
EPILOGUE.
'Tis ten to one this play can never please All that are here. Some come to take their ease, And sleep an Act or two ; but those, we fear. We've frighted with our trumpets ; so, 'tis clear, They'll say 'tis naught : others, to hear the city Abused extremely, and to cry, Thafs 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 'twill do, I know, within a while All the best men are ours ; for 'tis ill hap. If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap.
CRITICAL NOTES.
Prologue.
Page 41. Sad, high, and working, /^//Z of state and woe. — Staunton prints " Sad and high-zvor king''; and so I suspect we ought to read.
P. 42. To rank our chosen truth with such a show
As Fool and fight is, besides forfeiting
Our own brains, and th' opinion that we bring
Or make, — that only truth we now intend, —
Will leave us ne'er an understanding friend. — So Johnson. The original has the fourth line thus : " To make that only true we now intend." Out of this reading it is exceedingly difficult to get any fitting sense, or indeed any sense at all. — " This is not the only pas- sage," says Johnson, " in which Shakespeare has discovered his con- viction of the impropriety of battles represented on the stage. He knew that five or six men, with swords, gave a very unsatisfactory idea of an army ; and therefore, without much care to excuse his former practice, he allows that a theatrical fight would destroy all opinion of truth, and leave him never an understanding friend." The Prologue, partly on the strength of this passage, has been by some ascribed to Ben Jonson. It certainly accords well with what he says in the pro- logue to Every Man in his Humour :
To make a child, now swaddled, to proceed Man, and then shoot up, in one beard and weed, Past threescore j^ears ; or, with three rusty siuords. And help of some fe7u foot and half foot words. Fight over York afid Lancaster's long Jars, And in the tyring-house bring wounds to scars.
P. 42. Be sad, as we would make ye : think ye see The very persons of our history
As they were living; &c. — The original reads "persons of our noble storyr Upon this Heath comments as follows : "The failure in
178 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
tlie rhyme evidently shows that the text is corrupt. I think that Shake- speare probably wrote * the very persons of our history.'' The epithet noble is one of those the ItaUans call epithets to let. It is perfectly unnecessary, and may be rejected without the least detriment either to the sense or to the elegance of the passage." The reading thus proposed by Heath was adopted by Capell.
P. 43. Think you see them great.
And follow'' d with the general throng and sweat Of thousand friends. — Mr. P. A. Daniel suggests that we ought to read " the general throng and suite.^^
Act I., Scene i.
P. 44. Each following day
Beca??ie the last day's master, till the next
Made former wonders its. — The original transposes the words last and next. The speaker evidently means that each later day seemed to surpass the preceding ; but this meaning cannot be got out of the old order, except by taking the next as equivalent to the next before, — a sense which it can hardly bear. The reading in the text was conjec- tured by Theobald, approved by Heath, and adopted by Capell.
P. 46. The tract of every thing
Would by a good discourser lose so7ne life,
Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal; 8ic. — In the original the words All was royal, and the three following lines of Norfolk's speech, are printed as a part of the next speech. This is pal- pably wrong, as it makes Buckingham break in, and complete the description of things which he avowedly had not seen. Corrected by Theobald.
P. 46. / mean, who set the body and the limbs Of this great sport together, as you guess?
Nor. One, certes, that promises no element In such a business. — So Theobald, The original makes the words as you guess the beginning of Norfolk's speech.
CKITICAI, NOTKS.
179
P- 47- But, spider-like.
Out o/'s self-drawhtg we/>, he gives us note
The force of his own merit makes his way ;
A gift that Heaven gives; which Ijuys for him
A place next to the King ~\n the second of these lines, the ongmal has "O gives us note." Shakespeare probably wrote " a gives us note," and so I suspect we ought to print ; as a or '« was a common eolloqmahsm for he. But perhaps the matter is not of moment enough to warrant a variation from the reading generally received. - In the fourth Ime, also, the original reads "A gift that heaven gives for him which iuyes,"&c. The correction is Warl.urton's, and has the unnuah- tied approval of Walker.
P. 50. This hutcher's cur is venom-?«^«//i V. — The original has " z/.«o,«V.mouthVl." An instance, no doubt, of llnal ,/ and final . con- founded, the Poet having written venome. Such instances are very frequent. -^
P. 52. That s7uallow\l so much treasure, and like a i^lass
Did break € the rinsing. — The original has wrenchim; instead of rinsing It appears that various words now beginning wiih r ^^'ere formerly written with wr ; and wrinsing might easily have been mis- printed wrenching.
P- 53- But our Court- Cardinal
Has done this, and 'tis well. - So Pope and Lettsom The ongmal has "f:V««ACardinal." Wolsey is indeed afterwards spoken of as "A;«^-Cardmal," hut that I think does nothing towanls approv- ing the use of Count here, which is far from being strong enough for the occasion.
^- 53- For fr 07)1 this league
Peep' d harms that menaced him : he privily Deals loith our Cardinal. ~^o the second folio. The first •mits he; doi,])tlcss by accident, as both sense and metre require it.
^- 53- But, lohen the laay 7uas ?nade.
And paved 7vith gold, the Emperor then desired That he laould please to alter the King's eourse, &:c. — The old text has - the Emperor thus desir'd." 'I'he correction is Walker's.
l80 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
P. 55. And Gilbert Peck, his chancellor. — The original has "C?«^ Gilbert Pecke, his CoMticellourr Chancellor is Theobald's correction, the same person being afterwards designated by that title. The other change, of One to And, was also proposed by Theobald, and adopted by Pope. As final d was formerly written, it was very apt to be con- founded with e. The confusion of A and O was also frequent.
P. 55. O; Nicholas Hopkins ? — Here the original has ^'Michaell Hopkins." In the next scene, however, the same person is rightly called Nicholas. This, also, was corrected by Theobald.
P. 55. I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts out,
By darkening 7ny clear sun. — My lord, farewell. — The origi- nal reads " This instant Clowd puts ^w." We have repeated instances of on and out misprinted for each other. The substitution of out for on in this place was proposed by Theobald ; and I fail to appreciate the difficulty which some editors find in that reading. — In the last line, also, the original has Lords instead of lord. But Buckingham is there speaking to Norfolk only, as Abergavenny is going with him to the Tower. Corrected by Rowe.
Act I., Scene 2.
P. 57. There have been commissions
Sent down among ^em, which hdiWe fiaw\i the heart
Of all their loyalties. — The old text reads " which hath flaw'd."
As which clearly refers to commissions, the propriety of the change is
evident. Corrected in the fourth folio.
P. 57. Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks
The sides of loyalty. — Collier's second folio reads, plausibly, " The ties of loyalty." But the meaning is the same here as a little before, " which have flaw'd the hearth"* So in King Lear, ii. 4 : " O ndes, you are too tough ! will you yet hold ? "
P. 58. Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegiance in them ; that their curses now Live where their prayers did : and if s co7ne to pass
CRITICAL NOTES. l8l
That tractable obedience is a slave, cS:c. — In the second of these lines, that is wanting in the original, and is inserted by Walkcf as needful alike to sense and to metre. Of course it is equivalent to so that, or ittsomuch that. — In the last line, also, the original ha. This instead of l^hat. Corrected by Rowe.
P. 59. There is no pri??ier business. — l^he original has basenesse instead of business ; a misprint so glaring as to be hardly worth noting.
P- 59- What we oft do best,
By sick interpreters, or iveak ones, is
Not ours, or not allowW. — The original reads ''once weake ones." The correction is Pope's. I cannot reconcile my mind to the use of once here ; an alternative sense being, it seems to me, clearly intended and required. The forms of once and ones are so much alike both to the eye and to the ear, that I suspect the error originated in that circumstance.
P. 59. For our best action. Tf we shall stand still, &c. — Instead of action, the old text has Act. Corrected by Capell.
P. 60. A trembhng contribution ! — Qo\\xex\ second folio ^xxh^\:i. inte^ trebling iov trembling. The latter goes rather hard indeed, but trebling seems quite too tame and flat. See foot-note 8.
• And when we.
Almost with listening ravish'd, could not find His hour of speech a minute, — So Staunton. The old text has * Almost with ravish'd listening:'
• ^'* ^ P^^f^se your Highness, note
His dangerous conception in this point. — The original has This instead of His. The two were often misprinted for each other. Cor- rected by Pope.
^* ^^- He was brought to this
By a vam prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. - Here, and also in the next speech, the original has Henton instead of Hopkins. Bui the
1 82 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
same man has before been called Ilopkiris^ and it is not easy to see why the name should be thus varied. Ileritoji^ however, was the name of the convent to which he belonged. The correction is Theobald's.
P. 63. Whom after, under the confession's seal.
He solefnnly had sworn, &c. — The original has " under the Commissions scale." Corrected by Theobald from Holinshed.
P. 63. Bid hi})i strive
To gain the love <?' the co7nmonalty. — The word gain is wanting m the old editions till the fourth folio. Some verb of equivalent mean- ing is evidently required.
P. 63. The monk might be deceived ; and that 'twas dangerous
For him to ruminate on this so far, until
It forged him sojne design, &c. — The original has " For this to ruminate on this," a palpable error, which Rowe corrected. — As we have here two Alexandrines together, Lettsom proposed to read " For him to ruminate this so far," and thus reduce one of them to a pen- tameter.
P. 64. / remember
Of such time : being my servant sworn,
The duke retain'' d him his. — The old text reads " being my sworn servant " ; which seems a needless untuning of the rhythm. Corrected by Steevens.
P. 64. If, quoth he, I for this had been committed
To th' Tower, as I thought, I would have play'd, &c. — So rianmer. The original reads "As to the Tower, I thought"; &c. Here we have a very awkward inversion, which serves no purpose but to obscure the sense.
Act I., Scene 3.
P. 65. Thefve all neiu legs, and lame ones : one ivould take it, That never saiu 'em pace before, the spavin Or springhalt reign'd among '"em. — So Verplanck and Collier's
CRITICAL NOTES. 183
second folio. The old text has "the Spaven A Springhalt." As the spavin and the springhalt, or stringhalt, are two very different diseases of horses, it appears nowise likely that the author of this scene would have confounded them, either name or thing. Pope reads ''And springhalt."
P. 67. They may, cum privilegio, wee away
The lag end of their lewdness. — So the original. The second folio substitutes wear for wee, and is followed, I believe, by all modern editions. But wee was probably meant as expressing in English the sound of the French oui, and as a sort of representative word. This puts wee in good keeping with the rest of the speech ; meaning, of course, that " our travell'd gallants " were carrying their foreign affecta- tion into their speech, as well as into their dress and manners. — This reading and explanation were suggested to me by Mr. Joseph Crosby.
Act I., Scene 4.
P- ^- He would have all as merry
As feast, good company, good wine, good welcome, Can make good people.— The original reads " As /rj/, good company, &c. Theobald reads '' A^ first-good;' Dyce, "As far as good," both of which are to me quite unsatisfactory. The correction in the text is Staunton's, and fits so well, that I can but wonder it was not hit upon before.
P. 71. Anne. You^re a merry gamester.
My Lord Sands.
Sands. Yes, if I may make my play. —The old text
reads " if I make my play," omitting may, and thus defeating the verse. Hanmer inserted it.
P. 72. Because they speak no English, thus they pray' d me
To tell your Grace, &c. — So Walker, and Collier's second folio. The original omits 7ne.
184 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH,
Act II., Scene i.
P, 75. Of divers witnesses ; which the duke desired
To have brought, viv^ voce, to his face. — The original prints " To him brought." Not worth noting, perhaps.
P. 78. If ever any malice in your heart
Were hid against 7ne now forgive me frankly. — The original has "now to forgive me." Pope's correction.
P. 78. There cannot be those nu??iberless offences
^Gainst 7ne that I cannot take peace with : no black envy 67/ cz// mark my grave. — In the last of these lines, the original has 7nake instead of 7nark ; an easy misprint, which Warburton cor- rected.
P. 79. My vows and prayers
Yet are the King's ; and, till my soul forsake me. Shall cry for blessings on him. — Here, again, ?ne is wanting in the original. Added in the fourth folio.
Act II., Scene 2.
P. 84. All that dare
Look into these affairs see his niain end, —
The French King^s sister. — So the fourth folio. The earlier editions have "see this main end." The speaker is evidently referring to Wolsey.
Act II., Scene 3.
P. 89. Still growing in majesty and pomp, the which To leave's a thousand-fold more bitter than
' Tis sweet at first f acquire. — In the first of these lines, the original has "growing in a majesty," — one of the many instances, which Walker points out, of a interpolated. Also, in the second line, the original prints " To leave, a thousand-fold," &c.
CRITICAL NOTES. I85
P. 89. Yety if that fortune's quarrel do divorce
It from the bearer, c^c. — I here adopt the reading proposed by Lettsom. The original reads " if that quarrell. Fortune,. do divorce," &c.; which has been a standing puzzle to the editors, from Warburlon down to the present time. Many changes have been proposed, and divers explanations offered, none of which comes near being generally acceptable. Dyce follows Warburton's reading, " if that quarrel, for- tune, do," «&c.; upon the supposal that quarrel may be used for arrow. The word was indeed sometimes used in that sense : but, if we should substitute arrow, I cannot see how the passage would be any the clearer, or the sense any more apt. As here given the meaning is both clear and apt enough ; and we have but to take if that as an instance of the old English idiom which occurs so often in these plays, such as since that, when that, though that, &c., in all which that, according to the modern idiom, is simply redundant. Collier's second folio changes quarrel to cruel; which relieves the passage of difficulty indeed, but makes it quite too tame. On the other hand, the old editions of Shake- speare abound in instances of words unquestionably transposed.
P- 92. The King's Majesty
Cotfitnends his good opinion to you, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing, &c. — So Pope. The original reads "Commends his good opinion of you to you," &c.
P. 93- And you, O fate !
A very fresh-fish here,— fie, fie upon This cSmpelTd fortune ! — have your mouth filTd up Before you open't. — The original has "fye, fye, fye upon," &c. The third /^ obviously serves no purpose but to defeat the metre.
Act II., Scene 4.
P- 9^- When was the hour
I ever contradicted your desire. Or made it not mine too ? Which of your friends Have I not strove to love, although I kneiv He were mine eneijty ? zvhat friend of mine.
1 86 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
That had to him derived your anger, did I
Continue in my liking? nay, gave not notice
He was fro/n thence discharged ? — In the third of these lines the original repeats Or before Which ; doubtless by accident. Also, in the seventh line, the original omits not. The same letters occurring again m notice probably caused the omission : at all events, not seems fairly required both for sense and metre. Hanmer inserted it.
P. 97. // shall be therefore bootless
That longer you defer the court. — So the fourth folio. The earlier editions have ''^desire the Court"; doubtless a misprint for de- ferre.
P. 98. / was about to weep ; but, thinking that
We are a queen, — or long have dream''d so, — certain The daughter of a king, ??iy drops of tears
lUl turn to sparks of fire. — The original has " I am about to weep." It occurred to me long ago that we ought to read was ; and the same has lately been proposed by Mr. P. A. Daniel.
P. 99. Yea, as much
As you have done my truth. But, if he knoiv That I am free of your report, &c. — So Pope. The original omits But, which is needful alike for metre and for sense.
P. 99. You have, by fortune, and his Highness'' favours, 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. — In the first and second of these lines, I find it not easy to refrain from adopting the changes, sug- gested by Walker, of favours to favour, and of slightly to lightly. In the third line, Tyrwhitt and Singer think we ought to read wards in- stead of words. With that reading, the sense would be, " that the great and powerful were among Wolsey's retainers, and that his wards, gen- erally young nobility, were placed in domestic offices about his person,
CRITICAL NOTES. iS/
to swell his state and retinue ; which was the fact, and was made one of the principal charges against him." Possibly this may l)e right, and, if so, must be owned to be a rather happy instance of turning a tine poetic image into a sort of hard literaHty. But the Queen dwells much upon Wolsey's recklessness of truth ; she does not at all credit his dis- claimer of being at the bottom of this movement : and would it not accord better with her settled distrust of his word, to understand her as intimating here, that in his high-seated arrogance his thought and speech have outgrown the wholesome restraints of fear ? See foot- note 9.
P. iCX). When you are call'd, return. — Now^ the Lord help me ;
They vex me past my patience ! — So Walker. The original lacks fne in the first line, just as in two cases before.
P. 102. Who had been hither sent on the debating
A marriage^ &c. — The original has ''^w^/ marriage."
P. 102. This respite shook
The bottom oj 7ny conscience, entered me,
Yea, with a splitting pozver, &c. — Instead of bottom and split- ting, the original has bosome and spitting. The former was corrected by Thirlby from the corresponding passage of Holinshed ; the latter, in the second foho.
Act III., Scene i.
P. 107. If your business
Do seek me out, and that way I am wife in. Out with it boldly : truth loves open dealing. — The original lacks Do, which was inserted by Pope. — Rowe changed wife to wise, and has been followed by various editors, Dyce among others, who also gives Mason's explanation, — " relates to me, or to any thing of which I have any knowledge." I was myself once betrayed into a reluctant adoption of that reading ; but it now seems to me quite in- compatible with the next line, which shows that Catharine is referring to the question of her divorce. See foot-note 7.
l88 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
P. 107. /';;? sorry my integrity should breed
So deep suspicion, where all faith was 7neant,
And service to his Majesty and you. — In the original the sec- ond and third of these Unes are transposed. This misplacement, for such I deem it, was rectified by Edwards.
P. 108. And to delivery
Like free and honest men, our just opinions
And co?nforts to your cause. — So the second folio. The first has our instead of your, — doubtless an accidental repetition from the line above.
P. 112. The King loves you ;
Beware you lose it not : for us, if please you To trust us in your business, &c. — The original reads "if you please,^'' — an accidental misplacement, which Walker and prosody cor- rect.
Act III., Scene 2.
P. 114. The CardinaVs letter to the Pope miscarried. — The origi- nal has Letters instead of letter. But Surrey asks, a little after, " will the King digest this letter of the Cardinal's ? "
P. 114. Now, all joy
Trace the conjunction ! — So Pope and Walker. The original has " Now all my joy." Both White and Dyce retain the old reading, and in confirmation of it quote from Beaumont and Fletcher's Coxcomb^ iv. 4 : " Now all my blessing on thee ! thou hast made me younger by twenty years." But can the two cases be fairly regarded as parallel ? I doubt it. For blessing is an act passing over upon an object; joy is a feeling. In other words, we speak of conferring our blessing on another, but not of conferring our joy. Collier's second folio reads " Now may all joy." But I prefer Walker's reading ; who justly sup- poses that my crept in here by accident from the next line.
P. 1 16. Looked he 0^ the inside of the papers ?
Crom. Presently
He did unseal them : and the first he view'd.
CRITICAL NOTES. 1 89
He did it unth a serious mind ; a heed
Was in his counteyiaitce. And you he bade
Attend him here this ?norning. — In the first of these lines^ the original has " inside of the Paper T But the next Hne shows that it should be papers. Also, in the fourth line, the original lacks And^ which was inserted by Hanmer.
P. 117. There is more in it than fair visage. Boleyn /
No, we^ll no Boleyns. — The original reads " There"* s more inH then faire Visage." Walker would complete the verse by repeating Boleyn ; and Hanmer printed "There's more in it than a fair visage." But the printing of is and it in full appears to be the simplest way.
P. 118. Strikes his breast hard ; <7«^then anon he casts
His eye against the Moon. — The original lacks then, whicl? was inserted by Rowe.
P. 119. If we did think
His contemplation were above the Earth,
And fix^d on spiritual objects, he should still, &c. — The old editions till the fourth folio have object instead of objects. Walker says, " Objects, surely ; unless, indeed, object had then some meaning with which we are not now acquainted."
P. 120. My endeavours
Have ever come too short of my desires,
Yet filed with my abilities. — The original hasyf//^/ instead of filed. Dyce says, "The misprint oi filVd ioxfiVd is a common one." See foot-note 14.
P. 121. I do profess
That for your Highness'' good I ever laboured More than mine own ; that I am true, and will be. Though all the world should crack their duty to you, &c. — The original here presents a piece of obscurity that long baffled the inge- nuity of the commentators, thus :
I do professe, That for your Ilighnesse good, I ever labour'd More then mine owne : that am, have, and will be (Though all the world should cracke their duty, &c.
igO KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
The critics have generally agreed that there must be some corruption here. The happy emendation in the text is from Singer. Walker thinks a line may have been lost, somewhat to the following effect :
that I am, have, and will be. In heart and act, tied to your service ; yea, Though all the world should, &c.
A very note-worthy specimen of conjectural emendation. And Shake- speare has many instances of language thus incomplete ; " that I am, have^ and will be," for have been. Of course, however, it would not do to use such freedom with the Poet's text, nor would Walker himself approve the doing so.
P. 123. Ho7v eagerly ye follo7v 7?iy disgrace.
As if it fed ye ! — The original has disgraces, — a misprint which it in the next clause readily corrects.
P. 125. That in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the King, my ever royal master^ I
Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be, &c. — The original is without the pronoun / at the end of the second line, and thus leaves the clause without a subject. Theobald inserted the pro- noun in the first line, — " That / in the way," &c. But this mars, not to say defeats, the rhythm of that line. And Shakespeare intersperses Alexandrines so freely, that we need not scruple to make the second line a verse of that length,
P. 128. That, out of mere a?7ibition, you have caused
Your holy hat be stamfd on the King^s coin. — So Pope. The original reads " Your holy-Hat to be stampt." Here to is doubtless an interpolation, as the Poet often omits it in like cases, where it would disorder his rhythm.
P. 128. Because all those things you have done of late.
By your power legatine, &c. — The original has legative instead of legatine.
P. 128. To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
Chattels, and whatsoever, &c. — The original misprints Castles for Chattels. Corrected by Theobald.
CRITICAL NOTES. IQI
P. 129. This is the state of man : To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope. — The old text has hopes instead of hope. The instances of plurals and singulars misprinted for each other are almost numberless.
P. 129. (9, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes'' favours ! There is^ betwixt that sjnile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of pr ibices ^ and their ruin, cvic. — It has been proposed to change their to our, thus making it refer to we, in the pre- ceding line ; also, to change 7ve to he, and their to hisy both referring to that poor man. But such changes are hardly admissible, as we have many instances of like usage. See foot-note 32.
P. 131. May have a tomb of orphans' tears luept on 'em! — The original has hi7?i instead of \'m, — ^a frequent misprint. As the pro- noun must refer to bones, him cannot be right. Corrected by Capell.
Act IV., Scene i.
P. 134, The citizens,
Fm sure, have shozun at full their loyal 7?iinds. — So Pope. The old text has " their royal minds." The word royal may, indeed, possibly be explained to a fitting sense, as the Poet several times uses it, not in the sense of kingly, but to denote that which has a king for its object ; but that sense comes so hard in this case, and the misprint cf royal for loyal is so easy, that I see not why the slight change should be scrupled.
P. 135. She was oft cited by them, but appeared not. — The original has often instead of oft ; a needless breach of metre, and doubtless accidental. Corrected by Ilanmer.
P. 135. Since which she was removed to YJvxr\^o\\.ox\. — The original has Kymmalton, — an error which the history readily corrects.
P. 136. A bold brave gentleman. That \ox(\ should be
The Duke of Stiff oik. — So Walker. The old text omits lord.
192 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
P. 137. I Gent. And sometimes falling ones.
2 Gent. No more of that. — In
the original, the first of these speeches is printed as a part of the second Gentleman's preceding speech. As the next speech is also there as- signed to the second Gentleman, this makes him reply to his own remark. The correction is Walker's.
P. 139. To York-place, where the feast is held.
I Gent. Sir, you
Must no more call it York-place, that is past. — The old text sets you at the beginning of the next line, and then, to give that line a semblance of regularity, prints " thafs past." I say semblance, for the ictus falls on the wrong syllables throughout the line.
P. 140. Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which
Is to the Court, and there shall be 7?iy guests. — The original reads " and there ye shall be." Doubtless an accidental repetition of ye from the line above. Pope's correction.
Act IV., Scene 2.
P. 140. Yes, madam ; but I thought your Grace,
Out of the pain you suffer'' d, gave no ear to it. — So Lettsom. Instead of thought, the original has thanke, which the second folio changes to think.
P. 142. One that by suggestion
Tithed all the kingdofu. — So Hanmer. The original has Tfde instead of Tithed. Some editors print Tied, and suppose the meaning to be, that Wolsey had suggested the nation into bondage, — hinted away the liberties of England. His general course and history make rather for the sense oi tithed ; for he was not specially tyrannical, save as tyranny would purvey to his rapacity. See foot-note 6.
P. 142. But his performance, as he now is, nothing. — The original transposes now and is, thus making an ugly hitch in the metre. Rowe's correction.
CRITICAL NOTES. 193
P. 145. Hovo long her face is drawn ? how pale she looks ^
And of an earthy colour? — So Dyce and Walker. Instead of colour, the original has cold, which Collier's second folio changes to coldness.
P. 147. The last is, for f?iy 7iien ; — they are o' the poorest, &c. — So Walker. The old text reads " they are the poorest."
P. 147. If Heaven had pleased t'' have given me longer life
And abler means, we had not parted thus. — The original has ** And able means." Corrected by Walker.
P. 148. Say to him his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world. — The words to him are wanting in the orig- inal, thus leaving the verse badly mutilated. Pope repaired the breach thus : ^^And tell him, his long trouble now is passing." Capell, thus : "Say, his long trouble now is passing /r^/;/ him.^'' The reading in the text is Keightley's.
Act v., Scene i.
P. 155. And f have heard you.
Without indurance, further. — Upon this passage Mr. P. A. Daniel notes as follows : " Read, in last line, * While out of duraftce, further.' The object of the Council being to imprison Cranmer before calling witnesses against him, the King naturally supposes that the Archbishop would desire to be heard while enjoying the advantages of liberty — while out of durance. ''^
P. 156. You take a precipice y^r no leap of danger.
And ^00 your own destruction. — So the second folio. The first has Precepit and woe instead oi precipice and woo.
Act v.. Scene 2.
P. 160. Please your Honours,
The chief catise concerns his Grace of Caftterbury. — An un- metrical line, where such a line ought not to be, and one not easy to be set right. Lettsom would read ^cerns. I suspect we should rather
194 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.,
strike out chief; for, though Gardiner says •'we've business of more moment," it appears in fact, that they have no other business in hand as a Council.
P. 1 60. In our own natures frail, and csupahle
Of our flesh ; few are angels : &c. — Several changes have been made or proposed in this difficult passage. Theobald proposed culpa- ble, which is also found in Collier's second folio. Malone printed thus : " In our own natures frail, incapable ; Of our flesh, few are angels." But neither of these changes has met with much favour. I do not think the text is corrupt. See foot-note 6.
P. 162. Defacers of \\\^ public peace. — So Rowe and Collier's sec- ond folio. The original has " Defacers of a publique peace."
P. 165. But know y I come not
To hear such flatteries now ; and in my presence They are too thin and bare to hide offences. — The original has flattery and base instead oi flatteries and bare. The first was corrected by Rowe, the second by Malone. They points out the error oi flattery.
P. 166. I had thought I had men of some understanding
And wisdom of my Council ; but I find none. — The original has the first of these lines rather overloaded with hads, thus : " I had thought I had had men," &c. This needless repetition damages both sense and metre. Probably it were better to strike out another had, and read " I thought I had." So in the corresponding passage of Fox: *' Ah my lords, I thought I had wiser men of my councell than now I find you.*'
P. 167. I have a suit which you must not deny me :
There is a fair young 7naid that yet wants baptism. — The original has That instead of There. Corrected by Rowe.
Act v., Scene 3.
P. 168. Do you take the Court for YzxWgarden ? — The original has '■^Parish Garden." There was no such place as Parish Garden, but /^are'j-garden was a well-known arena for l)ear-baitings. White, and
CRITICAL NOTES. IQS
Dyce in his last edition, print "/'^r/j/^-garden," on the ground of its being ** a vulgar corruption," used " by people of the Porter's class." Parish seems to me much more likely to have been an accidental error. Corrected in the fourth folio.
P. 169. Let me ne''er hope to see a chine again ;
And that I would not for my cow, God save her. — The origi- nal has " for a cow." The substitution of my for a was proposed by Staunton, and sets the language in accordance with an old custom of speech. See foot-note 5. — Few passages in Shakespeare have puzzled the commentators more than this. Collier's second folio substitutes quee7i for chine^ and crown for cow. These changes are plausible ; but they labour under the mistake of supposing that the speaker is expect- ing to see the Queen pass to the christening ; which could hardly be, as the custom then was to baptize babies at three days old ; which cus- tom was in fact followed at the baptism of Elizabeth. So Singer, Staunton, White, and Dyce all keep the original text, in spite of Col- lier's discovery. And a writer in The Literary Gazette for January 25, 1862, remarks as follows: "A phrase evidently identical with that used by Shakespeare (or Fletcher) is in use to this day in the South of Eng- land. * Oh ! I would not do that for a cow, save her tail,' may still be heard in the mouths of the vulgar in Devonshire. This coincidence of expression leaves no doubt that the genuine reading is cow^ not crown ; and that the Porter's man was thinking of a chine of beef, an object much dearer in his eyes than a queen."
P. 1 70. At length they came to the broomstaff with me. — So Pope and Collier's second folio. The original has "the broome staffe /^ me." Doubtless an accidental repetition of to.
P. 172. You V the camlet, get up off the rail ; Pll pick you o'er the pales else. — So Mason. The original has "get up 0' the raile." Col- her's second folio changes pales to poll. This would give a different %tTiS>Q.f poll being an old word for head. See foot-note 21.
Act v., Scene 4.
P. 1 73. Afid for your royal Grace and the good Quee?i,
My noble partners and myself thus pray. — The old text reads
196 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.
"And to your Royall Grace." As the prayer is addressed to Heaven, to obviously cannot be right, according to any known usage.
P. 1 74. From her shall read the perfect ways of honour. — So the fourth folio. The original has way instead of ways.
P. 1 76. To you, my good Lord Mayor,
And your good brethren, &c. — The original has " And you good brethren." Corrected by Thirlby.
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