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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. 


3C1    ^ 


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