We are unacquainted with any dramatic piece on the subject of Henry VIII. that preceded this of Shakspeare; and yet on the books of the Stationers' Company appears the following entry: "Nathaniel Butter] (who was one of our author's printers) Feb. 12, 1604. That he get good allowance for the enterlude of King Henry VIII. before he begin to print it; and with the warden's hand to yt, he is to have the same for his copy." Dr. Farmer, in a note on the epilogue to this play, observes, from Stowe, that Robert Greene had written somewhat on the same story. STEEVENS.

The historical drama comprises a period of twelve years, commencing in the twelfth year of king Henry's reign (1521), and ending with the christening of Elizabeth in 1533. Shakspeare has deviated from history in placing the

death of queen Katharine before the birth of Elizabeth, for, in fact, Katharine did not die till 1536.

King Henry VIII. was written, I believe, in 1603.

Dr. Farmer, in a note on the epilogue, observes from Stowe, that, "Robert Greene had written something on this story;" but this, I apprehend, was not a play, but some historical account of Henry's reign, written not by Robert Greene, the dramatic poet, but by some other person. In the list of "authors out of whom Stowe's Annals were compiled," prefixed to the last edition printed in his life-time, 4to, 1605, Robert Greene is enumerated with Robert de Brun, Robert Fabian, &c. and he is often quoted as an authority for facts in the margin of the history of that reign. MALONE.

written.

mixery.

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, Sach 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 shew or two, and so agree,

The play may pass; if they be still, and willing,
I'll undertake, may see away their shilling
Richly in two short hours. Only they,
That come to hear a merry, bawdy play,
A noise of targets; or to see a fellow
In a long motley coat, guarded with yellow,
Will be deceiv'd: for, gentle hearers, know,
To rank our chosen truth with such a shew
As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting
Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring,
(To make that only true we now intend,)
Will leave us never an understanding friend.
Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known
The first and happiest hearers of the town,
Be sad, as we would make ye: think, ye see
The very persons of our noble story,

As they were living; think you see them great,
Aud 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.

Since last we saw in France?
Nor.

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

Buck.

I thank your grace :

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 Arde.

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 next day's master, till the last Made former wonders it's: To-day, the French, All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods, Shone down the English; and, to-morrow, they Made Britain, India: every man, that stood, Shew'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were As cherubims, all gilt: the madams too, Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear The pride upon them, that their very labour Was to them as a painting: now this mask Was cry'd incomparable; and the ensuing night Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings, Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, As presence did present them; him in eye, Still him in praise: and, being present both, "Twas said they saw but one; and no discerner Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns (For so they phrase them,) by their heralds chalThe noble spirits to arms, they did perform leug'd Beyond thought's compass: that former fabulous story,

Being now seen possible enough, got cred.

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
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.

up

ray

Buck. The devil speed him! no man's pie is free'd From his ambitious finger. What had he To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder, That such a keech can with his very bulk Take o' the beneficial sun, the And keep it from the earth. Nor. 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 the crown; neither allied To eminent assistants, but, spider-like,

Surely, sir,

Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note,
The force of his own merit makes his way;
A gift that Heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.

I cannot tell

Aber.
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, to appoint

Who should attend on him? He makes up the file
Of all the gentry; for the most part such
Too, whom as great a charge as little honour
He meant to lay upon; and his own letter,
The honourable board of council out,

Mast fetch him in the papers.

I do know

Aber. 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 them
For this great journey. What did this vanity,
But minister communication of

A most poor issue?

Nor.

Grievingly I think,

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

Buck.
Every man,
After the hideous storm that follow'd, was
A thing inspir'd: and, not consulting, broke
Into a general prophecy, That this tempest,
Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded
The sudded breach on't.
Nor.

Which is budded out; For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.

Is it therefore Marry, is't.

Aber. The ambassador is silenc'd? Nor. Aber. A proper title of a peace; and purchas'd At a superfluous rate! Buck.

Why, all this business Our reverend cardinal carried.

Nor. 'Like it your grace, The state takes notice of the private difference Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you,

(And take it from a heart, that wishes towards you
Honour and plenteous safety,) that you read
The cardinal's malice and his potency
Together: to consider further, that

What his high hatred would effect, wants not

A minister in his power: You know his nature,
That he's revengeful; and I know, his sword
Hath a sharp edge: it's long, and, it may be said,
It reaches far; and where 'twill not extend,
Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,
You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that
That I advise your shunning.
[rock,

Enter Cardinal WOLSEY, (the purse borne before him) certain of the Guard, and two Secretaries with papers. The Cardinal in his passage fixeth his eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdain.

Wol. The duke of Buckingham's surveyor? ha? Where's his examination? Here, so please you.

Matter against me; and his eye revil'd

Me, as his abject object: at this instant
He bores me with some trick: He's gone to the king;
I'll follow, and out-stare 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 month of honour quite cry down
This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim,
There's difference in no persons.

I am thankful to you; and I'll go along

By your prescription :-but this top-proud fellow,
(Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
From sincere motions,) by intelligence,
And proofs as clear as founts in July, when
We see each grain of gravel, I do know
To be corrupt and treasonous.
Nor.
Say not, treasonous.
Buck. To the 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 it: his mind and place
Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally,)
Only to shew his pomp as well in France
As nere at home, suggests the king our master

To this last costly treaty, the interview,
That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass
Did break i' the rinsing.
Nor.
'Faith, and so it did.

SCENE II.-The Council-Chamber.

cardinal

The articles o' the combination drew,

As himself pleas'd; and they were ratified,
As he cried, Thus let be: to as much end,

As give a crutch to the dead : But our count-cardinal

Has done this, and '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 the 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 menac'd him: He privily
Deals with our cardinal; and, as I trow,-
Which I do well; for, I am sure, the emperor
Paid ere he promis'd; whereby his suit was granted,
Ere it was ask'd ;-but when the way was made,
And pav'd with gold, the emperor thus desir'd ;—
That he would please to alter the king's course,
And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know,
(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 in't.

Buck.

No, not a syllable;

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 fallen upon me; I shall perish Under device and practice.

Bran.

I am sorry To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on The business present; "Tis his highness' pleasure, You shall to the Tower.

Buck.
It will help me nothing,
To plead mine innocence; for that die 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 :-The king (To Abergavenny.) Is pleas'd you shall to the Tower, till you know How he determines further.

Aber.

As the duke said,

the Lords of the Council, Sir THOMAS LOVELL, Officers, and Attendants. The King enters, leaning on the Cardinal's shoulder.

K. Hen. My life itself, and the best heart of it,
Thanks you for this great care: I stood i' the level
Of a full-charg'd confederacy, and give thanks
To you, that chok'd it.-Let be call'd before us
That gentleman of Buckingham's: in person
I'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 feet, on his right side.

A noise within, crying, Room for the Queen. Enter the Queen, ushered by the Dukes of NORFOLK and SUFFOLK: she kneels. The King riseth from his State, takes her up, kisses, and placeth her by him.

Q. Kath. Nay, we must longer kneel: I am a suitor.

K. Hen. 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.

Q. Kath.

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.

K. Hen.

Lady mine, proceed.

Q. Kath. I am solicited, not by a few, And those of true condition, that your subjects Are in great grievance: there have been commis

sions

Sent down among them, which hath flaw'd the heart
Of all their loyalties:wherein, although,
My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches
Most bitterly on you, as putter-on

Of these exactions, yet the king our master,
(Whose honour heaven shield from soil!) even he

escapes not

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

Not almost appears,

Nor.
It doth appear for, upon these taxations,
The clothiers al!, not able to maintain
The many to them 'longing, have put off
The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,
Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger,
And lack of other means, in desperate manner
Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,
And danger serves among them.
K. Hen.

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

Wol.

Please you, sir,

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

Q. Kath.

No, my lord, You know no more than others: but you frame Things, that are known alike; which are not whole

some

To those which would not know them, and yet must
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,
Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are
Most pestilent to the hearing; and, to bear them,
The back is sacrifice to the load. They say,
They are devis'd by you; or else you suffer