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SHAKESPEARE'S 
 
 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 II RODUCTION, AND NOTES EXPLANATORY AND CRITICAL. 
 
 FOR USE IN SCHOOLS AND FAMILIES 
 
 Rev. HENRY N. HUDSON, LL.D. 
 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY GINN, HEATH, & CO. 
 1884. 
 
Hi 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by 
 
 Henry N. Hudson, 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 *T Transfer 
 ■ 
 10 <'25 tm 
 
 Ginn & Heath: 
 
 J. S. Cushing, Printer, 16 Hawley Street, 
 
 Boston. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 History of the Play. 
 
 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH was undoubtedly 
 among the 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 longer 
 since than yesterday, while Burbage's company were acting 
 at the Globe the play of Henry the Eighth, and there shooting 
 off certain chambers in way of triumph, the fire catched, and 
 fastened upon the thatch of the house, and there burned so 
 furiously, 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, 16 13 : "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 light on the thatch, where, being thought at first but an 
 idle smoke, and their eyes being more attentive to the show, 
 it kindled inwardly, and ran round like a train, consuming 
 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." 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 new 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 lines : 
 
 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 Imperii 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 questioned 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 
 
-6 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 likely that during her life 
 he would have glorified so highly the reign of her successor, 
 therefore resort is had to the theory, that in 16 13 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 unknown 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 lines 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 object 
 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 qualified 
 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 literally 
 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 Church, 
 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, 152 1. 
 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 17th of October fol- 
 lowing, Wolsey resigned the Great Seal, and died on the 29th 
 of November, 1530. In July, 15 31, 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 finished 
 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 Queen 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 that 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 
 
IO KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 to the matter have joined in that opinion. I have not for 
 many years had the slightest doubt on the subject. And I 
 am equally clear in the same opinion touching the Epilogues 
 to The Tempest and King Henry the Fourth, and the 
 Chorus to the fourth Act of The Winter'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 
 Henry the Fourth, and the Choruses in King Henry • the 
 Fifth ; all which ring the true Shakespearian gold for work- 
 manship in that kind. It was 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 Eighth 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 conjectural 
 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 Magazine, discours- 
 ing the theme with lucid statement and cogent argument ; 
 and all the more satisfactory, that it lands in definite and 
 
INTRODUCTION. 1 1 
 
 well-braced conclusions. On the appearance of this article, 
 Mr. Samuel Hickson, another discriminating and judicious 
 critic, put forth a brief paper in Notes and Queries, express- 
 ing an entire concurrence with Mr. Spedding, and also saying 
 that he had reached 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 clown 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 hi., 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 hi., 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 hi., 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. 1 3 
 
 whole scenes were done by each, while 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 Chamberlain, 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. 1 5 
 
 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 of 
 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 Fletchers, 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 
 
1 6 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 was done. Catharine's last speeches, 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 telling, 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 than in his earlier ; and in 
 some of his plays, as in the Shakespeare portions of the 
 
INTRODUCTION. \J 
 
 one now in hand, we have about one third of the lines 
 ending- with amphibrachs. 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 monotony 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 fair 
 taste of his habitual manner. The first is from The Knight 
 
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 r^ach 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 perisli'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. 19 
 
 Cnesar, with Pompey's lifeless head before him, in The 
 False One, ii. 1 : 
 
 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 to 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 lascivious 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 Caesar ! 
 
 Ccesar. 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 Caesar. 
 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 Sabcean 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 woriders, 
 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. V the depth of meditation, do you not 
 Sometimes think of Olinda? 
 
 Lidian. I endeavour 
 
 To raze her from my memory, as 1 wish 
 You would do the whole sex ; for know, Lisander, 
 The greatest curse brave man can labour under 
 
INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 Is the strong witchcraft of a woman's eyes. 
 Where I find men, I preach 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 15 iambic ; also a proportion of somewhat more than 
 two to one. The average proportion 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 unlike 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 Elizabeth, — "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. 25 
 
 Not that I have any doubt as to their being what would now 
 be called Protestants. That they were truly such, is quite 
 evident, I think, in the general complexion of the piece, 
 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 ordered the materials of a drama so clearly with a view 
 to celebrate Elizabeth'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 up 
 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. 2J 
 
 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 
 Wolsey, 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 which is artfully disguised indeed by the authors, yet 
 not so but that we feel its presence more than enough. 
 
28 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 G-eneral 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 lias 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 
 him 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, 
 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 be-st 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, there 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, 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 marty*— ^^^ 
 
 Queen Catharine. 
 
 20 
 
 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 her 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 the apprehensive delicacy which 
 befits her relation to him, and belongs to her character. 
 
36 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 The scope of this suggestion is well shown by a passage 
 in the Life of IVolsey, 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 under- 
 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 believe a lie, even while 
 he knows it to be a lie, 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-belief: 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 than 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 feelings, 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. 
 Several Bishops, Lords, and Ladies in the Dumb-Shows ; Women attending 
 on the Queen ; Scribes, Officers, Guards, and other Attendants. 
 
 SCENE. — Chiefly in London and Westminster ; once at Kimbolton, 
 
 Sir Nicholas Vaux. 
 
 Cromwell, Servant to Wolsey. 
 
 Griffith, Gentleman - Usher to 
 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. 
 
 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 think it well, let fall a tear ; 
 
 The subject will deserve it. Such as give 
 
 Their money out of hope they may believe, 
 
 May here find truth too. Those that come to see 
 
 Only a show or two, and so agree 
 
 The play may pass, if they be still and willing, 
 
 I'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 1 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. 2 
 
 Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you're known 
 
 The first and happiest 3 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 is faced or trimmed. See The Mcr chant, page in, 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 expectation 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, which is one of the 
 senses of the corresponding Latin word felix. 
 
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. 
 
 Enter, on one side, the Duke of Norfolk ; on the other, the 
 Duke of Buckingham and the Lord Abergavenny. 1 
 
 Buck. Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done 
 Since last we saw 2 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 VIII. 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 Henry, 
 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 VII. 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" or met. So in Cymbelme, i. 1 : 
 
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 
 
 Stay'd 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. 3 
 
 I was then present, saw them salute on horseback ; 
 Beheld them, when they 'lighted, how they clung 
 In their embracement, as 4 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 : 5 to-day, the French, 
 All clinquant, 6 all in gold, like heathen gods, 
 
 "When shall we see again?" — "How have ye done?" answers precisely 
 to our phrase, " How have you been f" 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 Clin quant is commonly explained here as meaning glittering, shining. 
 Richardson says it is used " for the jingling noise of the ornaments " ; which 
 is certainly the usual sense of the word. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 45 
 
 Shone down the English ; and, to-morrow, they 
 
 Made Britain India ; every man that stood 
 
 Show'd 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 7 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. 8 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 9 was believed. 
 
 Duck. O, you go far. 
 
 Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect 
 In honour honesty, the tract 10 of every thing 
 
 7 That for so that ox insotnuch 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 of censure occurs often. 
 
 9 The old romantic legend of Bevis of Hamptoyi. 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 thus : " The course of these triumphs and 
 pleasures, however well related, must lose in the description part of the 
 spirit and energy which 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 rebelFd ; 
 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 11 
 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 12 vanities ? I wonder 
 That such a keech 13 can with his very bulk 
 
 Worship" was a common title of deference, though not so high as "your 
 Honour." — To affect 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 the 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, meaning certainly, 
 is here a monosyllable. In some other places the Poet uses it as a dissyl- 
 lable. 
 
 12 This use of 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. 1 : " And even the like precurse of 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 
 Henry IV., ii. 1.— In the next line, betieficial 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. 
 
 Nor. 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 ; 14 for the most part such 
 To whom as great a charge as little honour 
 He meant to lay upon ; 15 and his own letter, 
 
 notes upon it thus : " It is to be observed that the words benefit and benefi- 
 cial, in our old writers, almost uniformly involve the idea of a benefactor, 
 which has since been dropped, except in cases where the context implies 
 that idea, e.g., conferring or receiving a benefit!' 
 
 1 4 The file 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. 10 
 
 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 journey. 17 What did this vanity 
 But minister communication of 
 A most poor issue ? 18 
 
 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 follow'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." 
 
 10 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. 
 
 17 " 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, aboded 
 The sudden breach on't. 19 
 
 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 ? 20 
 
 Nor. Marry, is't. 
 
 Aber. A proper title of a peace ; 21 and purchased 
 At a superfluous rate ! 
 
 Buck. Why, all this business 
 
 Our reverend Cardinal carried. 
 
 Nor. Like't your Grace, 22 
 
 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 shortlie after to follow betweene princes." — 
 Aboded is foreboded ox prognosticated. 
 
 20 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. 
 
5<3 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I. 
 
 You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock 
 That I advise your shunning. 
 
 Enter Cardinal Wolsey, the purse borne' before him ; certain 
 of the Guard, and two 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 23 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. 24 
 
 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 preferred me to the King" ; preferred 
 in its old sense of reconunended. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 5 1 
 
 Ask God for temperance ; 25 that's th' appliance only 
 Which your disease requires. 
 
 Buck. 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 : 26 he's gone to th' King ; 
 I'll follow, and outstare him. 
 
 Nor. 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. 
 
 Buck. 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. 
 
 Nor. Be advised ; 27 
 
 Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot 
 That it do singe yourself : we may outrun, 
 By violent swiftness, that which we run at, 
 And lose by over-running. Know you not, 
 The fire that mounts the liquor till't run o'er, 
 In seeming to augment it wastes it ? Be 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." 
 
 2 ? Be advised is bethink 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, 
 
 I'm thankful to you ; and I'll go along 
 By your prescription : but this top-proud 28 fellow, — 
 Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but 
 From sincere motions, 29 — 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 30 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 I speak of, not in malice, but from just and candid motives." 
 
 30 To prompt, to move, to incite are 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. 
 
 Nor. I am sorry 
 
 To hear this of him ; and could wish he were 
 Something mistaken 31 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 mistook, or were 
 mistaken, in regard to him ; misunderstood. 
 
54 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I. 
 
 Elite)' 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. 
 
 Buck. Lo, you, my lord, 
 
 The net has fall'n upon me ! I shall perish 
 Under device and practice. 
 
 Bran. I am sorry, 
 
 To see 32 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 liberty, that I am 
 a witness of this business." See Hamlet, page 169, note 1. — 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 ; 33 and 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? 
 
 Bran. He. 
 
 Buck. My surveyor is false ; the o'er-great Cardinal 
 Hath show'd him gold ; my life is spann'd 34 already : 
 I am the shadow of poor Buckingham, 
 Whose figure even this instant cloud puts out 
 By darkening my clear sun. 35 — My lord, farewell. \_Exeunt. 
 
 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. 
 
 34 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 darkening my son of life." — Instant is passing 
 ox 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. 
 
 Cornets. Enter King Henry, Cardinal Wolsey, the 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 
 I'll 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 /<?<?/, 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 unconsider'd leave your honour, nor 
 The dignity of your office, is the point 
 Of my petition. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 57 
 
 King. Lady mine, proceed. 
 
 Cath. I am solicited, not by a few, 
 And those of true condition, 1 that your subjects 
 Are in great grievance : there have been commissions 
 Sent down among 'em, which have flaw'd the heart 
 Of all their loyalties : — wherein, although, 
 My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches 
 Most bitterly on you, as putter- on 2 
 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. 
 
 Nor. 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, compell'd 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. 
 
 King. Taxation ! 
 
 Wherein? and what taxation? — My Lord Cardinal, 
 You that are blamed for it alike with us, 
 Know you of this taxation ? 
 
 Wol. Please you, sir, 
 
 1 Men of true condition are men well disposed, or men of loyal tempers. 
 The use of condition in that sense is very frequent. 
 
 2 A putter-on is an instigator. So to put on was often used for to prompt, 
 to incite, or instigate. 
 
5^ KJNG HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I. 
 
 I know but of a single part, in aught 
 
 Pertains to th' State j and front but in that file 
 
 Where others tell 3 steps with me. 
 
 Cath. No, my lord, 
 
 You know no more than others ; but you frame 
 Things that are known alike ; 4 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, 5 
 The back is sacrifice to th' load. They say 
 They are devised by you ; or else you suffer 
 Too hard an exclamation. 
 
 King. Still exaction ! 
 
 The nature of it ? in what kind, let's know, 
 Is this exaction? 
 
 Cath. I am much tob 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 
 
 s To tell was used for to count; as in " keep tally" still in use. 
 
 4 Are known in 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. 
 
 6 That is, in bearing them. See page 54, note 32. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 59 
 
 To each incensed will. 6 I would your Highness 
 Would give it quick consideration, for 
 There is no primer business. 
 
 King. By my life, 
 
 This is against our pleasure. 
 
 Wol. 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, 7 or weak opes, 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. 
 
 7 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." — Allow'd, in the next line, is approved. See The Winter's 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 trembling 8 contribution ! Why, we take 
 From every tree lop, 9 bark, and part o' the timber ; 
 And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd, 
 The air will drink the sap. To every county 
 Where this is question'd send our letters, with 
 Free pardon to each man that has denied 
 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 10 your displeasure. 
 
 8 Trembling, 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. 
 
 9 The lop of a tree is the branches, that which is lopped or cut off from 
 the timber-part or the trunk. 
 
 10 In for into ; the two being often used indiscriminately. 
 
SCENE II. 
 
 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 6 1 
 
 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. 
 
 Surv. 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. 
 
 WoL 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. 
 
 King. 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, 11 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 12 
 .Twould prove the verity of certain words 
 Spoke by a holy monk ; that oft, says he, 
 Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit 
 John de la Car, my 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 for feared or suspected ; a frequent usage. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 63 
 
 To hear from him a matter of some moment : 
 
 Whom after, under the confession's seal, 
 
 He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke 
 
 My chaplain to no creature living but 
 
 To me should utter, with demure confidence 
 
 This pausingly ensued: "Neither the King nor's heirs, 
 
 Tell you the duke, shall prosper : bid him strive 
 
 To gain the love 0' the commonalty : the duke 
 
 Shall govern England." 
 
 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. 
 
 King. Ha ! what, so rank ? Ah-ha ! 
 
 There's mischief in this man. — Canst thou say further ? 
 
 Surv. I can, my liege. 
 
 King. Proceed. 
 
 Surv. 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 retain'd him his. — But on ; what hence ? 
 
 Surv. If, quoth he, I for this had been committed 
 To tlV Tower, as I thought, I would have plafd 
 The part my father meant to act upon 
 Th' usurper Richard ; who, being at Salisbury, 
 Made suit to come iris 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. 
 
 King. 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. 13 [Exeunt. 
 
 13 By day atid night is simply an adjuration ; not meaning that he is a 
 traitor night and day ; which were a little too flat. 
 
SCENE ill. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 6$ 
 
 Scene III. — The Same. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands. 1 
 
 Cham. Is't possible the spells of France should juggle 
 Men into such strange mysteries ? 2 
 
 Sands. New customs, 
 
 Though they be never so ridiculous, 
 Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd. 
 
 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 ; 3 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, in 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. 
 
 3 A Jit of the face is agrhnacs, an artificial cast of the countenance. • 
 
66 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I. 
 
 Lov. Faith, my lord, 
 
 I hear of none, but the new proclamation 
 That's clapp'd upon the court-gate. 
 
 Cham. What is't for? 
 
 Lov. The reformation of our travelPd gallants, 
 That fill the Court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. 
 
 C/tam. I'm glad 'tis there : now I would pray our raon< 
 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, 4 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 blistered breeches 5 and those types of travel, 
 And understand again like honest men ; 
 
 4 The text may receive illustration from Nashe's Life of Jack Wilton, 
 1594 : "At that time I was no common squire, no under-trodden torchbearer : 
 / 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 
 French." 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." 
 
 5 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 privilcgio, 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. 
 
 Cham. What a loss our ladies 
 
 Will have of these trim vanities ! 
 
 Lov. 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, 7 
 And have an hour of hearing ; and, by'r Lady, 
 Held current music too. 
 
 Cham. Well said, Lord Sands ; 
 
 Your colt's tooth 8 is not cast yet. 
 
 Sands. No, my lord ; 
 
 Nor shall not, while I have a stump. 
 
 Cham. Sir Thomas, 
 
 6 Wee is, I take it, merely an Anglicized spelling of the French out, and 
 is used as a verb. Of course it is meant in ridicule of the trick these French- 
 ified 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 is an old musical term used to denote the simplicity of the 
 chant. His 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. 
 
 8 CoWs-tooth is an old expression for youthf ulness generally. The Lord 
 Chamberlain means that Sands has not sown all his wild oats yet. 
 
68 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I. 
 
 Whither were you a-going? 
 
 Lov. To the Cardinal's : 
 
 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 9 bears a bounteous mind in- 
 deed, 
 A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ; 
 His dews fall everywhere. 
 
 Cham. 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 ; 10 
 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 clergyman. 
 
 10 The speaker is now in the King's palace at Bridewell, from whence he 
 is proceeding by water to York-Place. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 69 
 
 Scene IV. — The Same. The Presence- Chamber in York- 
 Place. 
 
 Hautboys. A small table wider a state for the Cardinal, a 
 longer table for the Guests. Enter, on o?ie side, Anne 
 Boleyn and divers Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen, as 
 guests ; o?i 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, 1 has brought with her 
 One care abroad ; he would have all as merry 
 As feast, good company, good wine, good welcome, 
 Can make good people. — O, my lord, you're tardy : 
 
 Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir Thomas 
 Lovell. 
 
 The very thought of this fair company 
 Clapp'd wings to me. 
 
 Cham. You're young, Sir Harry Guildford. — 
 
 Sweet 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 bevy is a company. In the curious catalogue of " the companyes of 
 bestys and foules," in the Book of St. Albans, it is said to be the proper 
 term for a company of ladies, of roes, and of quails. Its origin is yet to 
 seek. Spenser has " a bevy of ladies bright" in his Shepherd's Calendar, 
 and " a lovely bevy of faire ladies " in his Faerie Queene ; and Milton has 
 " a bevy of fair dames." 
 
JO KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I. 
 
 Sands. By my faith, 
 
 And thank your lordship. — By your leave, sweet ladies : 
 
 [Seats himself 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. 0, 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, 2 
 
 Let me alone. 
 
 Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, attended, and takes his 
 
 state. 
 
 Wol. 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 3 my thanks, 
 And save me so much talking. 
 
 Wol. My Lord Sands, 
 
 I am beholding 4 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 beholdmg, where we should use beholden, falls under the 
 general head of active and passive forms used indiscriminately. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 71 
 
 Ladies, you are not merry : — gentlemen, 
 Whose fault is this ? 
 
 Sands. 'Hie 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. 5 
 
 Here's to your ladyship : and pledge it, madam, 
 For 'tis to such a thing, — 
 
 Anne, You cannot show me. 
 
 Sands. I told your Grace they would talk anon. 
 {Drum and trumpets, and chambers * discharged, within. 
 
 \y l What's that? 
 
 Cham. Look out there, some of ye. [Exit a Servant. 
 
 yy l 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? 
 
 S erv , 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. 
 
 iy l Good Lord Chamberlain, 
 
 Go, give 'em welcome • you can speak the French tongue ; 
 
 5 That is, " if I may choose my game" 
 
 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. 
 
72 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I. 
 
 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 removed. 
 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, 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 ! 7 [Music. Dance. 
 
 7 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. 73 
 
 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. 
 
 Wol. Let me see then. — 
 
 \_Co7nes from his state. 
 By all your good leaves, gentlemen ; here I'll make 
 My royal choice. 8 
 
 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. 9 
 
 Wol. I'm 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 king 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. 10 [Kisses her.~] — A health, gentlemen ! 
 Let it go round. 
 
 Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready 
 I' 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 11 
 To lead 'em once again ; and then let's dream 
 Who's best in favour. — Let the music knock it. 12 
 
 \_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 dance, 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. 
 
 i Gent. I'll save you 
 
 That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony 
 Of bringing back the prisoner. 
 
 2 Gent. Were you there ? 
 
 i Gent. Yes, indeed, was I. 
 
 2 Gent. Pray, speak what has happen'd. 
 
 i Gent. You may guess quickly what. 
 
 2 Gent. Is he found guilty ? 
 
 i Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't. 
 
 2 Gent. I'm sorry for't. 
 
 i 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 ; 
 
j6 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 i 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? 
 
 i 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 sweetly 
 In all the rest show'd a most noble patience. 
 
 2 Gent. I do not think he fears death. 
 
 i Ge?it. 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 
 
 1 There was great enmitie betwixt the cardinall and the earle, for that 
 on a time, when the cardinall tooke upon him to checke the earle, he had 
 
SCENE I. 
 
 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 77 
 
 2 Gent. That trick of State 
 
 Was a deep-envious one. 
 
 j Gent. At his return 
 
 No doubt he will requite it. This is noted, 
 And generally, whoever the King favours, 
 The Cardinal instantly will find employment, 2 
 And far enough from Court too. 
 
 2 Gent. A11 tlie 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, — 
 
 / Gent. 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 : with him Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas 
 Vaux, Sir William Sands, and common People. 
 2 Gent. Let's stand close, 3 and behold him. 
 Buck. AU S ood P e °P le > 
 
 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 Ki dare s com- 
 min- out of Ireland. Such accusations were framed against him, that he 
 was committed to prison, and then by the cardinals good preferment the 
 earle of Surrie was sent into Ireland as the Kings deputie, there to rername 
 rather as an exile than as lieutenant, as he himself well perceived. - Hol- 
 
 INS 2 H That is, will find employment/.,. 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 II. 
 
 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 4 
 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 deep-envious one." — ■ 
 " Take peace with " here evidently means forgive or pardon. Shalcespeare" 
 has no instance, I think, of the phrase so used. 
 
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 : 5 
 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 distress'd, 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, life, 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 ; 6 for those you make friends 
 
 And give your hearts to, when they once perceive 
 
 The least rub 7 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 ! 
 
 [Exeunt 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. 
 
 7 Rub is hindrance or obstruction. So in Hamlet's celebrated soliloquy : 
 "Ay, there's the rub" 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 8 1 
 
 That were the authors. 
 
 2 Gent. 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. 
 
 i Gent. Good angels keep it from us ! 
 
 What may it be ? You do not doubt my faith, 8 sir ? 
 
 2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require 
 A strong faith to conceal it. 
 
 i Gent. 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 ? 
 
 i Gent. 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. 
 
 2 Gent. But that slander, sir, 
 
 Is found a truth now : for it grows again 
 Fresher than e'er it was ; and held 10 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, 
 
 8 Faith for fidelity ; still sometimes used in that sense. 
 
 9 A buzzing is a whispering, or a rumour. Often so used. 
 
 10 We have the same elliptical form of expression a little before, in i. 3 : 
 "And held current music too." That is, "and be held." Here, "and 'tis 
 held." 
 
82 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II 
 
 Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately ; 
 As all think, for this business. 
 
 i Gent. Tis the Cardinal ; 
 
 And merely to revenge him on the Emperor 
 For not bestowing on him, at his asking, 
 Th' archbishopric of Toledo, 11 this is purposed. 
 
 2 Gent. I think you've 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-chamber 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 chosen, ridden, and fur- 
 nish 'd. They were young and handsome, and of the best 
 breed in the North. When they were ready to set out for 
 London, a man of my Lord Cardinal's, by commission and 
 main power, took 'em from me; with this reason, — His 
 master would be served before a subject, if not before the 
 King; which stopftd 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. 83 
 
 Enter the Dukes ^/ Norfolk and Suffolk. 1 
 
 Nor. Well met, my Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Cham. Good day to both your Graces. 
 
 Suf How is the King employ'd ? 
 
 Cham. I left him private, 
 
 Full of sad thoughts and troubles. 
 
 Nor. What's the cause ? 
 
 Cham. It seems the marriage with his brother's wife 
 Has crept too near his conscience. 
 
 Suf No, his conscience 
 
 Has crept too near another lady. 
 
 JSfor. '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 in 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 II. 
 
 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. 2 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 I'll 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 ; 
 
 2 It was the main end or object of Wolsey to bring about a marriage be- 
 tween Henry and the French King's sister, the Duchess of Alencon. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 85 
 
 The King has sent me otherwhere : besides, 
 You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him. 
 Health to your lordships ! 
 
 Nor. Thanks, my good Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 {Exit Lord Chamberlain. Norfolk opens a folding- 
 door. The King is discovered sitting, and read- 
 ing pensively. 
 
 Suf. How sad he looks ! sure, he is much afflicted. 
 
 King. Who's there, ha? 
 
 Nor. 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. 
 
 King. Ye 're too bold : 
 
 Go to ; I'll 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. — [To 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 
 
 3 The meaning appears to be, " Let care 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 Suf. ~] We are busy; go. 
 
 Nor. \_Aside to Suf.] This priest has no pride in him ! 
 
 Suf. [Aside to Nor.] Not to speak of : 
 
 I would not be so sick 4 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, 5 tied by blood and favour to her, 
 Must now confess, if they have any goodness, 
 The trial just and noble. All the clerks, 6 
 I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms 
 Have their free voices, 7 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 II. 
 
 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. %7 
 
 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 8 for their loves : 
 They've sent me such a man I would have wish'd for. 
 
 Cam. Your Grace must needs deserve all strangers' 9 
 loves, 
 You are so noble. To your Highness' hand 
 I tender my commission ; — by whose virtue 10 — 
 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. Two equal 11 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 12 
 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- 
 pcgfio. 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 means foreigners. 
 
 1° By the virtue o/tvhich ; 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 what, 
 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. 
 
 Cam. 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 ; 13 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, 14 
 If I command -him, follows my appointment : 
 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 standing 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. 89 
 
 The most convenient place that I can think of 
 
 For such receipt of learning 15 is Black-Friars ; 
 
 There ye shall meet about this weighty business : 
 
 My Wolsey, see it furnjsh'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 ! and I must leave her. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — The Same. An Ante-chamber in the Queen's 
 Apartments. 
 
 Enter Anne Boleyn a?id an old Lady. 
 
 Anne. Not for that neither : here's the pang that pinches : 
 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 avannt! it is a pity 
 Would move a monster. 
 
 Old L. Hearts of most hard temper 
 
 Melt and lament for her. 
 
 Anne. O, God's will ! much better 
 
 She ne'er had known pomp : though't be temporal, 
 Yet, if that fortune's quarrel do divorce 
 
 15 A rather odd expression ; but meaning " for the reception of such 
 learned men." Receipt, however, for the thing 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 L. 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 L. 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 l — the capacity 
 Of your soft cheveril conscience 2 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-meat. 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. 16 : "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 HI. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 91 
 
 Anne. Nay, good troth, — 
 
 Old L. Yes, troth, and troth : you would not be a queen ? 
 
 A?ine. No, not for all the riches under heaven. 
 
 Old L. Tis strange ; a three-pence bow'd would hire me, 
 Old as I am, to queen it : but, I pray you, 
 What think you of a duchess ? have you limbs 
 To bear that load of title ? 
 
 Anne. No, in truth. 
 
 Old L. Then you are weakly made : pluck off a little ; 3 
 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 : 4 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. 
 
 Cham. 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 I should tender ; 
 More than my all is nothing : nor my prayers 
 Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes 
 More worth than empty vanities ; yet prayers and wishes 
 Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship 
 Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience, 
 As from a blushing handmaid, to his Highness ; 
 Whose health and royalty I pray for. 
 
 Cham. Lady, 
 
 I shall not fail t' approve the fair conceit 5 
 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.'] I'll 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 Amadis 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 honour'd lord. 
 
 [ Exit 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 c6mpelPd fortune ! — have your mouth fill'd up 
 Before you open't. 
 
 Anne. This is strange to me. 
 
 Old L. How tastes it ? is it bitter ? forty pence, 7 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. 8 By this time 
 I know your back will bear a duchess : say, 
 Are you not stronger than you were ? 
 
 Anne. Good lady, 
 
 Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy, 
 
 which gave so bright a splendour round about the roome, that there was no 
 neede of any other light." 
 
 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 9 a jot : it faints me, 
 To think what follows. 
 The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetful 
 In our long absence : pray, do not deliver 
 What here you've heard to her. 
 
 Old L. What do you think me ? 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — The Same. A Hall in Black-Friars. 
 
 Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers, with 
 short silver wands ; next them, two Scribes, in the habit of 
 doctors ; after them, the Archbishop of Canterbury 1 alone ; 
 after him, the Bishops of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and 
 Saint Asaph ; next them, with some small distance, follows 
 a Gentleman bearing the purse, with the great seal, and a 
 cardinal's hat ; then two Priests, beai'ing each a silver cross ; 
 then a Gentleman-usher bare-headed, accompanied with a 
 Sergeant-at-arms bearing a silver mace ; then two Gentle- 
 men bearing two great silver pillars ; after them, 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 eticour- 
 age, or to stimulate by encouragement. So in the Poet's 121st Sonnet : 
 
 For why should others' false-adulterate eyes 
 Give salutation to 7iiy 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 verbatim 
 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 and Campews ; two Noble- 
 men with the sword and mace. Then enter the King and 
 Queen, and their trains. The King takes place under the 
 cloth of state ; the two Cardinals sit under him as judges. 
 The Queen takes place at some distance from the King. 
 The Bishops place themselves on each side the court, in 
 manner of a consistory; between them, the Scribes. The 
 Lords sit next the Bishops. The Crier and the rest of the 
 Attendants stand in convenient order about the hall, 
 
 Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is read, 
 Let silence be commanded. 
 
 Xin<r. What's the need ? 
 
 It hath already publicly been read, 
 And on all sides th' authority allow'd ; 
 You may, then, spare that time. 
 
 jp^l. 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 ansiuer, 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. 
 
g6 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II, 
 
 Born out of your dominions ; having here 
 
 No judge indifferent, 3 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, 
 
 I've 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 inclined. 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, 4 in God's name, 
 
 Turn me away ; and let the foul'st 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 bidifferent in its old sense of impartial. 
 
 4 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 ! 
 
 Wol. 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. 
 
 Cam. His Grace 
 
 Hath spoken well and justly : therefore, madam, 
 It's fit this royal session do proceed ; 
 And that, without delay, their arguments 
 Be now produced and heard. 
 
 Cath. Lord Cardinal, — 
 
 Tq you I speak. 5 
 
 5 The acting of Mrs. Siddons has been much celebrated as yielding an 
 apt commentary 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 II. 
 
 Wol. Your pleasure, madam ? 
 
 Cath. 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 6 
 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 7 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." 
 
 7 Abhor and refuse are not the mere words of passion, but technical terms 
 of the canon law : detestor and rccuso. The former, in the language of can- 
 onists, signifies no more than I protest against.— Blackstone. 
 
SCENE IV. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 99 
 
 Or how far further shall, is warranted 
 
 By a commission from ( the Consistory, 
 
 Yea, the whole Consistory of Rome. You charge me 
 
 That I have blown this coal : I do deny it. 
 
 The King is present : if '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, 8 
 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 are mounted 
 Where powers are your retainers ; and your words, 
 Domestics to you, serve your will as't please 
 
 8 You have in appearance meekness and humility, as a token or outward 
 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." 
 
 LOFCt 
 
IOO KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT II. 
 
 Yourself pronounce their office. 9 I must tell you, 
 
 You tender more your person's honour than 
 
 Your high profession spiritual ; that again 
 
 I do refuse you for my judge ; and here, 
 
 Before you all, appeal unto the Pope, 
 
 To bring my whole cause 'fore his Holiness, 
 
 And to be judged by him. 
 
 [She 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 I 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-like, wife-like government, 
 Obeying in commanding, and thy parts 
 Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out — 
 The queen of earthly queens. — She's noble born ; 
 And, like her true nobility, she has 
 Carried herself towards me. 
 
 Wol Most gracious sir, 
 
 In humblest manner I require 10 your Highness, 
 That it shall please you to declare, in hearing 
 Of all these ears, — for where I'm 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 : 
 
 10 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 wish'd the sleeping of this business ; never 
 
 Desired it to be stirr'd ; but oft have hinder'd, oft, 
 
 The passages made toward it : — on my honour, 
 
 I speak my good Lord Cardinal to this point, 11 
 
 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 12 this our marriage with the dowager, 
 
 Sometimes 13 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 press'd 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. 
 
 13 Both sdmetifnes and sometime often had the sense of 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 14 of my conscience, I did steer 
 Toward this remedy, whereupon we are 
 Now present here together ; that's to say, 
 I meant to rectify my conscience — which 
 I then did feel full sick, and yet not well — 
 By all the reverend fathers of the land 
 And doctors learn'd. — First I began in private 
 With you, my Lord of Lincoln : you remember 
 How under my oppression I did reek, 
 When I first moved you. 
 
 Lin. Very well, my liege. 
 
 Xing. 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." 
 
104 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 paragon'd 15 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 Holiness. \_They 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: 16 with thy approach, I know, 
 My comfort comes along. — Break up the court : 
 
 1 say, set on. [Exeunt in manner 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 Cassar 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. 105 
 
 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 : 1 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 2 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? 
 I?i sweet music is such art, 
 Killing 4 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. 
 
 4 Killing is here used as an adjective, not as a participle. 
 
106 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IIL 
 
 Enter a Gentleman. 
 
 Catli. How now ! 
 
 Gent. An't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals 
 Wait in the presence. 5 
 
 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. 6 
 
 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 corner : 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, Cuculhis non facit monachum, to which 
 Chaucer also alludes : 
 
 Habite 7ie maketh monke ne frere / 
 But a clene life and devotion, 
 Maketh gode men of religion. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE ETGHTH. 107 
 
 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, 7 
 Out with it boldly : truth loves open dealing. 
 
 Wol. Tanta 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, 
 
 7 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." 
 
108 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT III. 
 
 Like free and honest men, our just opinions, 
 And comforts to your cause. 
 
 Cam. Most honour'd madam, 
 
 My Lord of York, — out of his noble nature, 
 Zeal and obedience he still bore your Grace, — 
 (Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure 
 Both of his truth and him, which was too far,) — 
 Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace, 
 His service and his counsel. 
 
 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 HENRY THE EIGHTH. IO9 
 
 They that must weigh out 8 my afflictions, 
 They that my trust must grow to, live not here : 
 They are, as all my other comforts, far hence, 
 In mine own country, lords. 
 
 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 : 9 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 ; 
 
 8 Weigh out for weigh; that is, consider them, do justice to them. 
 
 9 If I mistake you, it is by your fault, not mine ; for I thought you good. 
 
IIO KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT I 
 
 You turn the good we offer into envy. 10 
 
 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, 11 
 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. 
 
 VVol. 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 
 
 10 Envy, again, for malice. See page 78, note 4. 
 
 11 A woman constant to her husband. Constant in the sense of faithful. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I 1 I 
 
 Your master wed me to : nothing but death 
 Shall e'er divorce my dignities. 
 
 Wol. Pray, hear me. 
 
 Cath. 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. — 
 \To her Women.] Alas, poor wenches, where are now your 
 
 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 
 of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlain. 
 
 Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints, 
 And force 1 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 urge. So in Measure for Measure, iii. I : 
 "That thus can make him bite the law by th' nose when he would force it." 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 1 13 
 
 Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke, 
 To be revenged on him. 
 
 Suf. Which of the peers 
 
 Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least 
 Strangely neglected? 2 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 way 3 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 uncontemn'd extends over strangely neglected. The 
 Poet has many instances of similar construction. 
 
 3 That is, opens a way, gives us an opportunity. So in Julius Ccesar, ii. 
 3 : " Security gives way to conspiracy." 
 
1 14 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IIL 
 
 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. 4 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. 5 
 
 Sur. Would he had ! 
 
 Suf May you be happy in your wish, my lord ! 
 For, I profess, you have it. 
 
 Stir. Now, all joy 
 
 Trace 6 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 to follow or attend. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 115 
 
 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. 7 
 
 Stir. 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 ; 8 which 
 
 7 To memorize is to make memorable. So in Macbeth, i. 2 : " Except they 
 meant to bathe in reeking wounds, or memorize another Golgotha, I cannot 
 tell." 
 
 8 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? 
 
 Crom. To his own hand, in's bedchamber. 
 
 Wol. Look'd he o' the inside of the papers ? 
 
 Crom. 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? 
 
 Crom. I think, by this he is. 
 
 Wol. Leave me awhile. — [Exit Cromwell 
 
 It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon 
 The French King's sister : he shall marry her. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 117 
 
 Anne Boleyn ! No ; I'll no Anne Boleyns 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 she 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 ! 
 
 E?iter the King, reading a schedule, and Lovell. 
 
 Kifig. 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. ACT III. 
 
 Stood here observing him : some strange commotion 
 Is in his brain : he bites his lip, and starts ; 
 Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, 
 Then lays his finger on his temple ; straight 
 Springs out into fast gait ; then stops again, 
 Strikes his breast hard \ and 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. 9 
 
 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. 119 
 
 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 10 a brief span 
 To keep your earthly audit : sure, in that 
 I deem you an ill husband, 11 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, 
 
 1° 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 we have husbandry for man- 
 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. 
 
120 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT III. 
 
 Must give my tendance to. 
 
 King. You have said well. 
 
 Wol. 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, 
 I've kept you next my heart ; have not alone 
 Employ'd you where high profits might come home, 
 But pared my present havings, 12 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 13 went 
 Beyond all man's endeavours. My endeavours 
 Have ever come too short of my desires, 
 
 12 Having, as often, iox possession, or what one has. Pared, of course, is 
 lessened, reduced, or unpaired. 
 
 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 
 
 Yet filed with my abilities : H 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. 15 
 
 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 sameyf/^, 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. 
 
 Wot. 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 1,'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 1 Pope! 
 The letter, as I live, with all the business 
 I writ to's Holiness. 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 1G in the evening, 
 And no man see me more. 
 
 Re-enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Earl of 
 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, 17 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. 
 
 Sitf. Who dare cross 'em, 
 
 Bearing the King's will from his mouth expressly? 
 
 Wot. 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 ; 18 
 You've Christian warrant for 'em, and, no doubt, 
 
 16 Exhalatio7i was often used in a way now quite out of date. Here it 
 probably means what we call a meteor. See King John, page 98, notes 16 
 and 19; also, 1 Henry IV., page 54, note 3. 
 
 17 Asher was the ancient name of Esher, 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 of envy for malice ; also, of 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 Kins: — 
 
 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 : 19 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. 
 
 Sur. Thy ambition, 
 
 Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land 
 Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law : 20 
 The heads of all thy brother cardinals — 
 With thee and all thy best parts bound together — 
 Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy ! 
 You sent me deputy for Ireland ; 
 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. 
 
 20 I have already noted that the Poet continues the same persons Duke 
 of Norfolk and Eari 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. 125 
 
 Absolved him with an axe. 
 
 Wo I. 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 little honesty as honour ; 
 That in the way of loyalty and truth 
 Toward the King, my ever royal master, I 
 Dare mate 21 a sounder man than Surrey can be, 
 And all that love his follies. 
 
 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 22 by a piece of scarlet, 
 Farewell nobility ; let his Grace go forward, 
 And dare us with his cap like larks. 23 
 
 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, a. jade. " II 
 n'est si bon cheval qui n'en devicndroit 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 
 
 You 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 24 shall mine innocence arise, 
 When the King knows my truth. 
 
 Sur. 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. 127 
 
 You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops. 25 
 
 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. 26 
 
 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. 
 
 Stir. Item, you sent a large commission 
 To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude, 
 Without the King's will or the State's allowance, 27 
 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 ct 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 and 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 
 
 Your holy hat be stamp'd on the King's coin. 28 
 
 Sur. Then, that you've 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 29 undoing 
 Of all the kingdom. Many more there are ; 
 Which, since they are of you, and odious, 
 I will not taint my mouth with. 
 
 C/iam. 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 of a. praemunire?® — 
 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. 
 
 30 The judgment in a writ oiprcemunire (a barbarous word used instead 
 of prcemonere) 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. 
 
 \_Exeunt all but VVolsey. 
 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 open'd. 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, 31 
 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 they 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 EIGHTH. ACT III. 
 
 Enter Cromwell, amazedly. 
 
 Why, how now, Cromwell ! 
 
 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 ! 
 
 C7-o?n. I'm 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 32 with the King. 
 
 WoL God bless him ! 
 
 Croni. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen 
 Lord Chancellor in your place. 
 
 32 Here "your displeasure" is the displeasure which you have incurred, 
 or of which you are the object ; hence called the objective genitive. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I3I 
 
 Wol. 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 ! 33 
 What more ? 
 
 Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, 
 
 InstalFd 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 34 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. 35 Go, get thee from me, Cromwell ; 
 
 33 The Lord Chancellor is the general guardian of orphans. "A 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 Mceliades, has the same 
 conceit : 
 
 The Muses, Phoebus, Love, have raised of their teares 
 A crystal tomb to him, through which his worth appears. 
 
 34 In open is a Latinism. " Et castris in aperto positis," Liv. i. 33 ; that 
 is, in a place exposed on all sides to view. 
 
 35 The number of persons who composed Cardinal Wolsey's household, 
 according to the authentic copy of Cavendish, was 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 him 
 
 What and how true thou art : he will advance thee ; 
 
 Some little memory of me will stir him — 
 
 I know his noble nature — not to let 
 
 Thy hopeful service perish too : good Cromwell, 
 
 Neglect him not ; make use 36 now, and provide 
 
 For thine own future safety. 
 
 Crom. 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 one 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. 
 
 i 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. 
 
 i Gent. 'Tis very true : but that time offer'd 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. 
 
 i 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 ? 
 
 i 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 I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 1 35 
 
 I should have been beholding to your paper. 
 But, I beseech you, what's become of Catharine, 
 The princess dowager ? how goes her business ? 
 
 i 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 1 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 2 assent 
 Of all these learned men she was divorced, 
 And the late marriage 3 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, 
 
 i. Two Judges. 
 
 2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him. 
 
 3. Choristers, singing. [Music. 
 
 4. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in 
 
 his co at- of- arms? and 011 his head a gilt copper crown. 
 
 5 . Marquess Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on his head 
 
 1 " Lately held a court " is the meaning, of course. 
 
 - Great, strong; mighty, are 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. 
 
 4 His coat of office, emblazoned with the royal arms. 
 
I36 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 earl's coronet. 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 co7-onet on his head. Collars of esses. 
 
 7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports ; 6 under it, 
 
 the Queen in her robe ; her hair richly adoi-ned 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 
 
 with out 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 The Jive ports were Dover, Hastings, Hythe, Romney, and Sandwich ; 
 to which Rye and Wihchelsea 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. 137 
 
 i 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. 
 
 i 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. 
 
 i Gent. It is ; and all the rest are countesses. 
 
 2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed. 
 
 i Gent. And sometimes falling ones. 
 
 2 Gent. No more of that. 
 
 [Exit procession, with a great flourish of trumpets. 
 
 Enter a third Gentleman. 
 
 1 Gent. God save you, sir ! where have you been broiling ? 
 j 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? 
 j Gent. That I did. 
 
 i Gent. How was it? 
 
 j 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 
 
I38 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'd devoutly ; 
 Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people : 
 When by the Archbishop of Canterbury 
 She had all the royal makings of a queen ; 
 As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown, 
 The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems 
 Laid nobly on her : which perform'd, the choir, 
 With all the choicest music 7 of the kingdom, 
 Together sung Te Deum. So she parted, 8 
 And with the same full state paced back again 
 
 7 Music for musicians, or musical instruments ; a common figure. 
 
 8 The Poet often uses part for depart. So in iii. 2 : " Wo. parted frowning 
 from me." See, also, The Winter's Tale, page 40, note 2. 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 139 
 
 To York-place, where the feast is held. 9 
 
 i 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. 
 3 Ge?it. 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 ? 
 
 3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner ; the one of Winchester, 
 Newly preferr'd from the King's secretary ; 10 
 
 The other, London. 
 
 2 Ge?it. He of Winchester 
 
 Is held no great good lover of th' Archbishop's, 
 The virtuous Cranmer. 
 
 3 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 ? 
 
 3 Gent. Thomas Cromwell ; 
 A man in much esteem wi' th' King, 11 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. 
 
 10 That is, lately promoted from being the King's secretary, or from the 
 office of secretary. 'This use of to prefer was common. 
 
 11 This play has many instances of the elided, so as to coalesce with a 
 preceding word ; as by th',/or th' , to th' , &c. Here we have a double elision 
 of with and the, so as to make one syllable of them. The Poet often has it 
 so. See The Tempest, page 47, note 16. 
 
I4O KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT IV. 
 
 2 Gent. He will deserve more. 
 
 3 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 dead? 1 
 
 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 3 — to his answer, 
 He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill 
 He could not sit his mule. 4 
 
 Cath. Alas, poor man ! 
 
 Grif. At last, with easy roads, 5 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, broke?i with the storms 0/ State, 
 Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; 
 Give him a little earth for charity ! 
 So went to bed ; where eagerly his sickness 
 Pursued him still : and, three nights after this, 
 About the hour of eight, — which he himself 
 Foretold should be his last, — full of repentance, 
 Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, 
 He gave his honours to the world again, 
 His blessed part to Heaven, and slept in peace. 
 
 Cath. So may he rest ; his faults lie gently on him ! 
 Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, 
 And yet with charity. He was a man 
 Of an unbounded stomach, 6 ever ranking 
 
 3 I am not quite clear in what sense tainted is used here. Sometimes the 
 word means touched; as in j Henry VI., iii. 1 : "And Nero will be tamted 
 with remorse " ; that is, touched with 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. 7 
 
 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 William 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. 143 
 
 Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading : 
 Lofty and sour to thern 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 ; 8 
 The other, though unfmish'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. 9 
 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 
 cardinall 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 perfectlie, 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 solemn 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- 
 lands 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 cha?iges, and holding the garland over her 
 head : which done, they deliver the same garland to the 
 last two, who likewise observe the same order; at which 
 {as it were by inspiration) she makes in her sleep signs of 
 rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven : and so in 
 their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland with them. 
 The music 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 H£NRY THE EIGHm ^ 5 
 
 f' 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, like 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. [ Musk 
 
 Pat [Aside to Km?.] Do you note 
 
 How much her Grace is alter'd on the sudden? 
 How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks, 
 And of an earthy 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, — 
 
 Cath. \7 
 
 You are a saucy fellow : 
 Deserve we no more reverence ? 
 
 _ Grif ' You're to blame, 
 
 Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness, ' 
 To use so rude behaviour : 10 go to, kneel. 
 
 Mess. I humbly do entreat your Highness' pardon ; 
 
 recL Q t rb"™ ine ' S "r" 15, aftGr "" diV ° rCe at Dunstable, were di- 
 refused in T" ***" ^ *™" ***** ****** dowager. Some 
 refused to take the oath, and so were forced to leave her service; and as for 
 Aose who took n and stayed, she would not be served by them by which 
 means she was almost destitute of attendants. 
 
1-4-6 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. — \_Exeunt 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 I'm 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. 147 
 
 Cath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver 
 This to my lord the King ; — 
 
 Ca P- Most willing, madam. 
 
 Cath. — In which I have commended to his goodness 
 
 The model u 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 follow'd both my fortunes faithfully : 
 
 Of which there is not one, I dare avow, — 
 
 And now I should not lie, — but will deserve, 
 
 For virtue and true beauty of the soul, 
 
 For honesty and decent carriage, 
 
 A right good husband, let him be a noble ; 12 
 
 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 parted thus. 
 
 These are the whole contents. 13 And, good my lord, 
 
 11 Model here means image or representation. An old usage. 
 
 12 Even though he be a nobleman. 
 
 13 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 health, 
 
I48 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 I'm dead, good wench, 
 Let me be used with honour : strew me over 
 With maiden flowers, 14 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." 
 
 14 At the burial of maidens, it was the custom to scatter flowers in the 
 grave. So at the burial of Ophelia, in Hamlet, v. 1 : " She is allow'd her 
 virgin crants, her maiden strewtueftts" ; 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. — London. A Gallery in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Gardiner, Bishop ^/"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 ; l 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 2 
 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 : 3 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 ; 4 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 Rolls, 5 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 religion. 
 
 5 The Master of the Rolls is the officer who has charge of the patents and 
 
SCENE I. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 151 
 
 Stands in the gap and trade 6 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 7 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 ; 8 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. 9 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. 
 
 1 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, to prompt or instigate. " Invidiam stimulo mentes Patrurn 
 fodit Saturnia : Juno incenseth the senators' minds with secret envy against." 
 — Cooper. 
 
 8 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. 
 
 \_Exeuiit Gardiner and Page. 
 
 As Lovell is going out, enter the King and the Duke of 
 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. 
 
 Xing. 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 10 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 ; 
 
 10 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. 1 53 
 
 For I must think of that which company 
 Would not be friendly to. 
 
 Si//. I wish your Highness 
 
 A quiet night ; and my good mistress will 
 Remember in my prayers. 
 
 King. Charles, good night. — 
 
 \_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. 
 
 King. Bring him to us. 
 
 \_Exit Denny. 
 
 Lov. \_Aside.~] This is about that which the bishop spake : 
 I'm happily 11 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. 
 
 King. How now, my lord ! you do desire to know 
 Wherefore I sent for you. 
 
 11 Happily here means luckily, or opportunely ; as 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 ; 
 I've news to tell you : come, come, give me your hand. 
 Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak, 
 And am right sorry to repeat what follows. 
 I have, and most unwillingly, of late 
 Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord, 
 Grievous complaints of you ; which, being consider'd, 
 Have 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, 12 
 It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness 
 Would come against you. 
 
 Cran. \_Kneeling/\ I humbly thank your Highness ; 
 
 And am right glad to catch this good occasion 
 Most throughly to be winnovv'd, 13 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. 155 
 
 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. {He rises.'] Now, by my halidom, 14 
 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, 15 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. 
 
 Xing. 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 16 
 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 dom, like kingdom. 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 Ccesar : " If they are not 
 beneficed, their indurance is the longer ; the punishment allotted is one whole 
 yeares imprisonment." 
 
 is Not ever is uncommon, and means not always. See Much Ado, page 
 
 53. note 3 1 ' 
 
156 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V. 
 
 To swear against you ! such things have been done. 
 You're potently opposed ; and with a malice 
 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. 
 
 Deliver 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. \_l¥ithin.~\ Come back : 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. 157 
 
 Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person 
 Under their blessed wings ! 
 
 King. Now, by thy looks 
 
 I guess thy message. Is the Queen deliver'd ? 
 Say ay ; and of a boy. 
 
 Old L. 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 ! 
 
 \ov. 
 
 
 Re-enter 
 
 Lovell. 
 
 Sir? 
 
 Zing. 
 
 Give her 
 
 an hundred marks. 
 
 I'll to the Queen. 
 
 [Exit. 
 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 II. — Lobby before the Council- Chamber. 
 
 Enter Cranmer ; Servants, Door-keeper, cV<r., attending. 
 
 Cran. 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 ! 
 
I58 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, So. 
 
 Butts. [Aside.'] This is a piece of malice. I am glad 
 I came this way so happily : the King 
 Shall understand it presently. 
 
 Cran. [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 fulnlFd, and I attend with patience. 
 
 The 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 majestie, 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. 1 59 
 
 King. What's that, Butts ? 
 
 Butts. — I think, your Highness saw this many a day. 
 
 King, Body o' me, where is it? 
 
 Butts. There, my lord : 
 
 The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury ; 
 Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, 
 Pages, and footboys. 
 
 King. 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 3 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, arid draw the curtain close ; 4 
 We shall hear more anon. [Curtain drawn. 
 
 The Council-Chamber. 5 
 
 Enter the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk, the Duke 
 <?/ Norfolk, Earl of Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardiner, 
 and Cromwell. The Chancellor places himself at the 
 upper end of the table on the left hand; a seat being left 
 void above him, as for the Archbishop of Canterbury. The 
 
 3 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. 
 
 rest seat theniselves in order on each side. Cromwell at 
 the lower end, as Secretary. 
 
 Clian. 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, I'm 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 ; 6 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 III., 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 ii. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. l6l 
 
 The whole realm, by your teaching and your chaplains, — 
 For so we are inform'd, — with new opinions, 
 Divers and dangerous ; which are heresies, 
 And, not reform 'd, may prove pernicious. 
 
 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, 7 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. 
 
1 62 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. 
 
 Sitf. 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 8 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 of moderation ; that is, mildness or gentleness. 
 
SCENE II. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 163 
 
 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. 9 
 
 Crom. My Lord of Winchester, you are a little, 
 By your good favour, too sharp ; men so noble, 
 However faulty, yet should find respect 
 For what they have been : '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 this painted gloss ox fair 
 outside, nothing but empty talk and false reasoning." To gloss or to gloze 
 was often used in the sense of to explain away, or to dress up in plausibili- 
 ties. See King Henry the Fifth, 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 ? 
 
 All. 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. For me ? 
 
 Must I go like a traitor thither? 
 
 Gard. Receive him, 
 
 And see him safe 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. 10 
 
 Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit. 
 
 Suf. '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. l6$ 
 
 The King will suffer but the little finger 
 Of this man to be vex'd ? 
 
 Chan. 'Tis 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 lire that burns ye : now have at ye ! 
 
 Enter the King, frowning on the?n ; 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, 11 
 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." 
 
1 66 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. 
 
 Sur. May't please your Grace, — 
 
 Xing. 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. 1 67 
 
 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 alive 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 : 10 
 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 sJu-eivd turn, 12 and 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 shrexvd turn " is an unkind turn, or a sharp one ; such being the 
 proper sense of shrewd. The King has in mind the 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 ? * 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 ; 3 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, 4 
 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 ! 5 
 
 \_Within.~\ 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? 6 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 
 
 4 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 miss seei?ig a chine again." A chine of 'beef "is 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, meat for a king!' Staunton observes that " the ex- 
 pression, ' my cow, God save her!' or ' my mare, God save her!' or * my 
 sow, God bless her ! ' seems to have been proverbial ; thus, in Greene and 
 Lodge's Looking -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. 
 
 6 The trained bands of the city were exercised in Moorfields. 
 
170 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. ACT V. 
 
 be a brazier 7 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 ; 8 they need no other penance. That fire-drake 9 
 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 10 fell 
 off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the State. I 
 miss'd the meteor 11 once, and hit that woman, who cried 
 out Clubs ! 12 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, 13 deliver'd such a shower of pebbles, that I 
 
 7 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. 
 
 9 " Fire-drake ; afire sometimes seen flying in the night like a dragon. 
 Common people think it a spirit that keepeth some treasure hid ; but philos- 
 ophers affirme it to be a great unequal exhalatio7i 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. A fire-drake appears to 
 have been also an artificial firework. 
 
 10 Her pink'd cap, which looked as if it had been moulded on a porringer. 
 So in the The Taming of the Shrew, iv. 4 : 
 
 Hab. 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 : 14 
 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. 15 I have some of 'em in Limbo 
 Patrum, 16 and there they are like to dance these three days ; 
 besides the running banquet 17 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 the 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 limbo 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. 
 
 17 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. 
 
 Cham. As I live, 
 
 If the King blame me for't, I'll lay ye all 
 By th' heels, 18 and suddenly ; and on your heads 
 Clap round fines for neglect : ye're lazy knaves ; 
 And here ye lie baiting of bombards, 19 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 20 shall hold ye play these two months. 
 
 Port. Make way there for the Princess ! 
 
 Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll make your 
 head ache ! 
 
 Port. You i' the camlet, get up off the rail ; I'll pick 21 you 
 o'er the pales else ! \Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. — The Palace. 
 
 Enter trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord Mayor, 
 Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolk with his Marshals 
 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 He?iry IV., page 70, note 18. 
 
 19 A bombard or bnmbard 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 x for the christening-gifts ; then four Noble- 
 men bearing a canopy, under which the Duchess of Nor- 
 folk, godmother, bearing the 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. \_Kneeling.~] 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, 2 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 3 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; 
 
 3 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 HENRY THE EIGHTH. 1 75 
 
 So shall she leave her blessedness to one, 
 
 When Heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness, 
 
 Who from the sacred ashes of her honour 
 
 Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, 
 
 And so stand fix'd : peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, 
 
 That were the servants to this chosen infant, 
 
 Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him : 
 
 Wherever the bright Sun of heaven shall shine, 
 
 His honour and the greatness of his name 
 
 Shall be, and make new nations : 4 he shall flourish, 
 
 And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches 
 
 To all the plains about him. 5 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 Atla?itici Con- 
 ditor. In 1612 there was a lottery for the plantation of Virginia. The lines 
 probably allude to the settlement of that colony. 
 
 5 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. 
 
I76 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, full of state and woe. — Staunton 
 prints " Sad and high-working'''' ; 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 zve bring 
 
 Or make, — that only truth we now hitend, — 
 
 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 years ; or, with three rusty swords, 
 And help of some few foot and half foot words, 
 Fight over York and 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 zoere living; &c. — The original reads "persons of our 
 noble story." Upon this Heath comments as follows : " The failure in 
 
I78 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 the 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 Italians 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 folloza 'd with the general throng and sweat 
 Of thousand friends. — Mr. P. A. Daniel suggests that we ought 
 to read " the general throng and suited 
 
 Act i., Scene i. 
 
 P. 44. Each follozving day 
 
 Became 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 some life, 
 
 Which action's self was tongue to. All tvas royal; &c. — 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. 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. 1 79 
 
 P. 47. But, spider-like, 
 
 Out of's self-drawing wed, 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. — In the second of these lines, the 
 original has "O gives us note." Shakespeare probably wrote "a gives 
 us note," and so I suspect we ought to print ; as a or 'a was a common 
 colloquialism for he. But perhaps the matter is not of moment enough 
 to warrant a variation from the reading generally received. — In the 
 fourth line, also, the original reads "A gift that heaven gives for him, 
 which buyes" &c. The correction is Warburton's, and has the unquali- 
 fied approval of Walker. 
 
 P. 50. This butcher's cur is venom-mouth' d. — The original has 
 " zwz0/« V-mouth'd." An instance, no doubt, of final </and final e con- 
 founded, the Poet having written venome. Such instances are very 
 frequent. 
 
 P. 52. That stvalloid'd so much treasure, and like a glass 
 
 Did break V the rinsing. — The original has wrenching instead 
 of rinsing. It appears that various words now beginning with r were 
 formerly written with wr ; and wri using might easily have been mis- 
 printed wrenching. 
 
 P. 53. But our Court- Cardinal 
 
 Has done this, and 'tis well. — So Pope and Lettsom. The 
 original has "Count-Cardinal." Wolsey is indeed afterwards spoken 
 of as "King-Cardinal" but that I think does nothing towards approv- 
 ing the use of Count here, which is far from being strong enough foi» 
 the occasion. 
 
 P. 53. For from this league 
 
 Peep' d harms that menaced him : he privily 
 Deals with our Cardinal. — So the second folio. The first 
 omits he; doubtless by accident, as both sense and metre require it. 
 
 P. 53. But, when the way was made, 
 
 And paved with gold, the Emperor then desired 
 That he -would please to alter the King's course, &c. — The old 
 text has " the Emperor thus desir'd." The correction is Walker's. 
 
ISO KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 P. 55. And Gilbert Peck, his chancellor. — The original has "One 
 Gilbert Pecke, his Councellotir." 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 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 my clear sun. — My lord, farewell. — The origi- 
 nal reads " This instant Clowd puts on." 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 hawefiaw'd 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 heart.'" So in King Lear, ii. 4: " O 
 sides, 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 it's come to pass 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. l8l 
 
 That tractable obedience is a slave, Sec. — In the second of 
 these lines, that is wanting in the original, and is inserted by Walker 
 as needful alike to sense and to metre. Of course it is equivalent to 
 so that, or insomuch that. — In the last line, also, the original has 
 This instead of That. Corrected by Rowe. 
 
 P. 59. There is no primer business. — The original has basenesse 
 instead of business; a misprint so glaring as to be hardly worth noting. 
 
 P. 59. What iv e oft do best, 
 
 By sick interpreters, or weak ones, is 
 
 Not ours, or not allowed. — 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. If we shall stand still, &c — Instead 
 of action, the old text has Act. Corrected by Capell. 
 
 P. 60. A trembling contribution ! — Collier's second folio substi- 
 tutes trebling for trembling. The latter goes rather hard indeed, but 
 trebling seems quite too tame and flat. See foot-note 8. 
 
 p. 61. 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. 61. Please 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. 
 
 p # 62. He teas brought to this 
 
 By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. — Here, and also in 
 the next speech, the original has Henton instead of Hopkins. But the 
 
1 82 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 same man has before been called Hopkins, and it is not easy to see 
 why the name should be thus varied. Ilenton, 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 solemnly had sworn, &c. — The original has " under the 
 Commissions seale." Corrected by Theobald from Holinshed. 
 
 P. 63. Bid him strive 
 
 To gain the love o' the commonalty. — The word gain is wanting 
 in 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 ''ttvas dangerous 
 
 For him to riiminate on this so far, until 
 
 It forged him some 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 ti?Jie : being my servant sworn, 
 
 The duke retained 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 tK Toiver, as I thought, I would have play'd, &c. — So 
 Hanmer. 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. They've all new legs, and lame ones : one would take it, 
 That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin 
 Or springhalt reigned among 'em. — So Verplanck and Collier's 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. 1 83 
 
 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 oni, 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. 69. He would have all as merry 
 
 As feast, good company, good wine, good welcome, 
 Can make good people. — The original reads " As first, good 
 company, &c. Theobald reads " As 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. 
 Ilanmer inserted it. 
 
 P. 72. Because they speak no English, thus they pray 'dme 
 
 To tell your Grace, &c. — So Walker, and Collier's second 
 folio. The original omits me. 
 
KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 Act ii., Scene i. 
 
 P. 75. Of divers zvitnesses ; which the duke desired 
 
 To have brought, viva 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 me, now forgive me frankly. — The original 
 has " now to forgive me." Pope's correction. 
 
 P. 78. There cannot be those numberless offences 
 
 'Gainst me that I cannot take peace with : no black envy 
 Shall mark my grave. — In the last of these lines, the original 
 has make instead of mark ; 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, me is wanting in 
 the original. Added in the fourth folio. 
 
 Act 11., Scene 2. 
 
 P. 84. All that dare 
 
 Look into these affairs see his main 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 11., 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. 185 
 
 P. 89. Yet, if that fortune's quarrel do divorce 
 
 It from the bearer, Sec. — 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 Warburton 
 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 
 
 Commends 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, fate ! 
 
 A very fresh-fish here, — fie, fie tipon 
 This cdmpeWd fortune ! — have your mouth fill' \l up 
 Before you opeii't. — The original has "fye, fye, fye upon," &c. 
 The third fie obviously serves no purpose but to defeat the metre. 
 
 Act 11., Scene 4. 
 
 P. 96. 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 ? ivhat 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 from the nee 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 in notice probably caused the omission : at all events, not seems 
 fairly required both for sense and metre. Hanmer inserted it. 
 
 P. 97. It 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, tliinking that 
 
 We are a queen, — or long have dreamed so, — certain 
 The daughter of a king, my drops of tears 
 
 Til 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 knozv 
 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' 1 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. 1 87 
 
 to swell his state and retinue ; which was the fact, and was made one 
 of the principal charges against him." Possibly this may be right, and, 
 if so, must be owned to be a rather happy instanee of turning a fine 
 poetic image into a sort of hard literality. But the Queen dwells much 
 upon Wolsey's reeklessncss 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. 100. When you are calTd, return. — Now, the Lord help me ; 
 
 They vex me past my patience ! — So Walker. The original 
 lacks me 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 "And marriage." 
 
 p. 102. This respite shook 
 
 The bottom oj my conscience, entered me, 
 
 Yea, with a splitting power, &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 folio. 
 
 Act hi., 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 zvife 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. 
 
1 88 KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 
 
 P. 107. I'm sorry my integrity should breed 
 
 So deep suspicion, where a 11 faith was meant, 
 
 And service to his Majesty and yon. — In the original the sec- 
 ond and third of these lines are transposed. This misplacement, for 
 such I deem it, was rectified by Edwards. 
 
 P. 108. And to deliver, 
 
 Like free and honest men, our just opinions 
 
 And comforts to your cazise. — 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 yott lose it not : for us, if please you 
 To trust us in your business, cS:c. — The original reads "if you 
 please," — an accidental misplacement, which Walker and prosody cor- 
 rect. 
 
 Act hi., Scene 2. 
 
 P. 114. The Cardinal's 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. Nozo,alljoy 
 
 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. 116. Look 'd 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 with a serious mind ; a heed 
 
 Was in his countenance. And you he bade 
 
 Attend him here this morning. — In the first of these lines, the 
 original has " inside of the Papery But the next line 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 ! 
 
 A r o, we'll no Boleyns. — The original reads " There 's more in't 
 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 ; and then anon he casts 
 
 His eye against the Moon. — The original lacks then, which 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, Sec. — 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 has filTd instead of 
 filed. Dyce says, "The misprint of filTd ioxfiPd is a common one." 
 See foot-note 14. 
 
 P. I2i. I do profess 
 
 That for your Highness" 1 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 Highnesse 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. Hoxv eagerly ye follow my 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 I 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 ambition, you have caused 
 
 Your holy hat be stump" d 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 pozver 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. l 9 l 
 
 P 1-9 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 I2n< 0, 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, &c. - It has been 
 proposed to change their to our, thus making it refer to we, m the pre- 
 ceding line ; also, to change we to he, and their to his, 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 wept on 'em!— The 
 original has him instead of '«*-a frequent misprint As the pro- 
 noun must refer to bones, him cannot be right. Corrected by Capell. 
 
 Act iv., Scene i. 
 
 p I3 . The citizens, 
 
 Fm sure, have shown at full their loyal minds. — 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 
 it's object ■ but that sense comes so hard in this case, and the misprint of 
 royal Tor 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.r-T&t original 
 has often instead of oft; a needless breach of metre, and doubtless 
 accidental. Corrected by Hanmcr. 
 
 P. 135. Since which she was removed to Kimbolton. — The original 
 has Kymmalton, - an error which the history readily corrects. 
 
 P 136 A bold brave gentleman. That 'lord should be 
 
 The Duke of Suffolk. - 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. 
 
 1 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 " that's 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 my 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 sttffcr\t, 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 kingdoin. — 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 of 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. How 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 my men ; — they are o' the poorest, &c. — 
 So Walker. The old text reads " they are the poorest." 
 
 P. 147. If Heaven had pleased /' 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 from 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 durance, 
 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 dtirance." 
 
 P. 156. You take a precipice for no leap of danger, 
 
 And woo your own destruction. — So the second folio. The 
 first has Precepit and woe instead of precipice and woo. 
 
 Act v., Scene 2. 
 
 P. 1 60. Please your Honours, 
 
 The chief cause concerns his Grace of Canterbury. — An un- 
 metrical line, where such a line ought not to be, and one not easy to 
 be set right. Lettsom would read 'cents. 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 capable 
 
 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 the public peace. — So Rowe and Collier's sec- 
 ond folio. The original has " Defacers of a publique peace." 
 
 P. 165. But know, I come not 
 
 To hear stick flatteries now ; and in my presence 
 They are too thin and bare to hide offences. — The original has 
 flattery and base instead of flatteries and bare. The first was corrected 
 by Rowe, the second by Malone. They points out the error of 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 maid 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 V axis-garden ? — The original has 
 " Parish Garden." There was no such place as Parish Garden, but 
 Paris-garden was a well-known arena for bear-baitings. White, and 
 
CRITICAL NOTES. 1 95 
 
 Dyce in his last edition, print "jParwA-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 
 queen for chine, and crown for cozu. 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, 
 1 862, 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 ; LHl pick you o'er the 
 pales else. — So Mason. The original has "get up 0' the raile." Col- 
 lier's second folio changes pales to poll. This would give a different 
 sense, poll being an old word for head. See foot-note 21. 
 
 Act v., Scene 4. 
 
 P. 173. And Tor your royal Grace and the good Queen, 
 
 My noble partners and myself thus pray. — The old text reads 
 
I96 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. 176. To you, my good Lord Mayor, 
 
 And your good brethren, &c. — The original has " And you good 
 brethren." Corrected by Thirlby. 
 
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