THE famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eighth was first published in the folio collection of Shakspere's works in 1623. The text, taken as a whole, is singularly correct: it contains, no doubt, some few typographical errors, but certainly not so many as those which deform the ordinary reprints.

The date of the original production of this drama has been a subject of much discussion. The opinions in favour of its having been produced in the reign of Elizabeth are far more numerous than those which hold it to be a later production. But the accomplished Sir Henry Wotton, writing to his nephew on the 6th of July, 1613, gives a minute and graphic account of the fire at the Globe in that year:-" 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 of the reign of Henry the Eighth, which was set forth with many extraordinary circumstances of pomp and majesty, even to the matting of the stage; the knights of the order, with their Georges and Garter, the guards with their embroidered coats and the like; sufficient, in truth, within a while to make greatness very familiar, if not ridiculous. Now King Henry, making a mask at the Cardinal Wolsey's house, and certain cannons being shot off at his entry, some of the paper, or other stuff wherewith one of them was stopped, did light on the thatch, where, being thought at first but an idle smoke, and their eyes being more attentive to the show, it kindled inwardly, and ran round like a train, consuming, 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: only one man had his breeches set on fire, that would perhaps have broiled him, if he had not, by the benefit of a provident wit, put it out with bottle ale." Here, then, is a new play described, "representing some principal pieces of the reign of Henry VIII. ;" and further, the passage of Shakspere's play in which the "chambers" are discharged, being the " entry "of the king to the "mask at the cardinal's house," is the same to the letter. But the title which Sir Henry Wotton gives the new play is All is True.' Other persons call the plav so represented Henry VIII.' Howes, in his continuation of Stow's Chronicle, so calls it. He writes some time after the destruction of the Globe, for he adds to his account of the fire," and the next spring it was new builded in far fairer manner than before." He speaks of the title of the play as a familiar thing :-" the house being filled with people to behold the play, viz. of Henry the Eighth." When Howes wrote, was the title All is True' merged in the more obvious title derived from the subject of the play, and following the character of the titles of Shakspere's other historical plays?

The commentators also hold that the Prologue was written by Ben Jonson, to allow him an occasion of sneering at Shakspere's fools and battle-scenes. But we hold that the Prologue is a complete exposition of the idea of this drama. The Prologue is fastened upon

Jouson, upon the theory that he wrote it after Shakspere's retirement from the stage, when the old play was revived in his absence. We believe in the one piece of external evidence,-that a 'Henry VIII. was produced in 1613, when the Globe was burned; that it was a new play; that it was then called All is True;'-and that this title agrees with the idea upon which Shakspere wrote the 'Henry VIII.' Those who believe that it was written in the time of Elizabeth have to reject this one piece of external evidence. We further believe, from the internal evidence, that the play, as it stands, was written in the time of James I., and that we have received it in its original form. Those who assert the contrary have to resort to the hypothesis of interpolation; and, further, have to explain how many things which are, to a plain understanding, inconsistent with their theory, may be interpreted, by great ingenuity, to be consistent. We believe that Shakspere, amongst his latest dramas, constructed an historical drama to conplete his great series,-one that was agreeable to the tone of his mind after his fiftieth year :

Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe." Those who take the opposite view hold that the chief object of the poet was to produce something which might be ac ceptable to Queen Elizabeth. Our belief is the obvious one; the contrary belief may be the more ingenious.

Shakspere has in this play closed his great series of Chronicle Histories.' This last of them was to be "sad. high, and working." It has laid bare the hollowness of worldly glory; it has shown the heavy "load" of "to much honour." It has given us a picture of the times which succeeded the feudal strifes of the other 'His tories.' Were they better times? To the mind of the poet the age of corruption was as "sad" as the age force. The one tyrant rides over the obligations of justice, wielding a power more terrible thau that of the sword. The poet's consolation is to be found in the prophetic views of the future.

of

We have a few words to add on the style of this drama. It is remarkable for the elliptical construction of many of the sentences, and for an occasional peculiarity in the versification, which is not found in any other of Shakspere's works.

A theory has been set up that Jonson “ tampered” with the versification. We hold this notion to be utterly untenable; for there is no play of Shakspere's which has a more decided character of unity, no one from which any passage could be less easily struck out. We believe that Shakspere worked in this particular upon a princip'e of art which he had proposed to himself to adhere to, wherever the nature of the scene would allow. The elliptical construction, and the licence of versification, brought the dialogue, whenever the speaker was not uscessarily rhetorical, closer to the language of commun life. Of all his historical plays, the 'Henry VIII.' is the nearest in its story to his own times. It professed to be a "truth." It belongs to his own country. It has no poetical indistinctness about it, either of time or place: all is defined. If the diction and the versification ha been more artificial, it would have been less a reality.

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 its: 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 Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were As cherubins, all gilt: the madams too, Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear The pride upon them, that their very labour Was to them as a painting: Now this mask Was 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 challeng'd The noble spirits to arms, they did perform Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous

Nor.

As you guess:

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.

Buck. The devil speed him! no man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger. What had he To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder That such a keechb can with his very bulk Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun, And keep it from the earth.

Surely, sir,

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,

Out of his self-drawing web,-O! give 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.

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. to appoint
Who should attend on him? He makes up the file
Of all the gentry; for the most part such
To whom as great a charge as little honour
He meant to lay upon and his own letter
(The honourable board of council out)
Must fetch him in be papers.

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.

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 sudden breach on 't.

Nor.

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

Aber.

The ambassador is silenc'd?

Nor.

Is it therefore

Marry, is 't.
Aber. A proper title of a peace; and purchas'd
At a superfluous rate!

Element-constituent quality of mind. Thus in Twe Ab Night' (Act III Sc. 4) Malvolie says, "Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow things. I am not of your element. b Keech. A "keech" is a lump of tat: and Buckingham here denounces Wolsey as an overgrown bloated favourite.

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 't may be said,
It reaches far; aud where 't will not extend,
Thither be darts it. Bosom up my counsel,
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 CARDINAL in his passage fixeth eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on him, both full of disdain.

his

Wol. The duke of Buckingham's surveyor? ha? Where 's his examination?

Me, as his abject object: at this instant

a

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
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 show his pomp as well in France
As here 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.

a

'Faith, and so it did.

Buck. Pray, give me favour, sir. cardinal

vouch

This cunning

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-car

dinal

Has done this, and 't is well; for worthy Wolsey,
Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,
(Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
Under pretence to see the queen his aunt,
To the old dam, treason,)-Charles the emperor,
(For 't was, 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,

Nor. Stay, my lord, And let your reason with your choler question What 't is you go about: To climb steep hills Requires slow pace at first: Anger is like A full-hot horse; who being allow'd his way Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England Can advise me like you: be to yourself As you would to your friend. 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 advis'd.
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 it run o'er,
In seeming to augment it, wastes it? Be advis'd:
I say again, there is no English soul

More stronger to direct you than yourself;
If with the sap of reason you would quench,
Or but allay, the fire of passion.

Buck.

Sir,

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,

Bores-wounds-thrusts. So in the Winter's Tale' Now the ship boring the moon with her mainmast." Motions-impulses.

Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases, And for his own advantage.

I am sorry

Nor. To hear this of him; and could wish he were Something mistaken in t.

SCENE II.-The Council-Chamber. Cornets. Enter KING HENRY, CARDINAL WOLSEY, 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

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 me.

Q. Kath.
No, my lord,
You know no more than others: but you frame
Things, that are known alike, which are not wholesome
To those which would not know them, and yet must
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions
Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are
Most pestilent to the hearing; and to bear them
The back is sacrifice to the load. They say
They are devis'd by you; or else you suffer
Too hard an exclamation.

K. Hen.
Still exaction!
Is this exaction?
The nature of it? In what kind, let 's know,

Q. Kath.

I am much too venturous

In tempting of your patience; but am bolden'd
Under your promis'd pardon. The subject's grief
Comes through commissions, which compel from each
The sixth part of his substance, to be levied
Without delay; and the pretence for this

Is nam'd, your wars in France: This makes bold mouths:

Tongues spit their duties out; and cold hearts freeze Allegiance in them; their curses now

Live where their prayers did; and it 's come to pass,
This tractable obedience is a slave

To each incensed will. I would your highness
Would give it quick consideration, for
There is no primer baseness.
K. Hen.

This is against our pleasure.
Wol.

By my life,

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
Traduc'd 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, once weak ones, is
Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft,
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up
For our best act. If we shall stand still,
In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at
We should take root here where we sit, or sit
State statues only.

K. Hen.

Things done well, Things done without example, in their issue And with a care, exempt themselves from fear Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent Of this commission? I believe not any

a Once is here used in the sense of sum times.