XLVIII.

KING HENRY THE EIGHTH.

By WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE is regarded by many as the foremost writer in English literature; he is certainly the greatest dramatist. His genius is wonderful, in that it touched upon so many subjects, and with such magical skill that it illumined them all. There is scarcely an experience common to human nature which does not find fitting expression in his works. He is the world's poet, rather than that of one race or country.

While this master-mind has swayed men for three centuries, very little is known of the man personally, his habits, his character, or his life. We have not, as in the case of many writers, interesting

incidents recorded by contemporaries; we have only a few bare facts, which throw little light upon his remarkable work.

William Shakespeare was born at Stratford-on-Avon, England, April 23, 1564, and was the eldest son of John and Mary Arden Shakespeare. His father was well-to-do, and his early years were doubtless spent in happy enjoyment of country life. The forest of Arden, the scene of "As You Like It," was familiar to him in boyhood, being a part of his grandfather's possessions. He received his early education at the free grammar school of Stratford. He married young, went to London directly after his marriage, and there became an actor, a dramatic writer, and a shareholder in one of the London theaters. The plays which have made him world-famous were quickly recognized as works of genius. Spenser and other authors delighted to do him honor. He was a favorite with the nobility, and Queen Elizabeth and James I. distinguished him by their favor. His writings brought him not only fame, but fortune. He pur

chased a pleasant dwelling in his native place, brought his parents home to live with him, and passed twelve years of well-earned repose with his family and friends. He died on his birthday, April 23, 1616, leaving the world richer for all time through the fruits of his genius.

Several Lords and Ladies in the Dumb Shows; Women attending upon the Queen; Spirits, which appear to her; Scribes, Officers, Guards, and other Attendants.

SCENE: Chiefly in London and Westminster; once at Kimbolton.

NOTE.-The portions of this play omitted are as follows:

The Prologue; Act I., Scenes III. and IV.; Act II., Scene III.; Act IV., Scene I.; Act V., Scenes I., II., and III.; and a few brief passages.

ACT I.

SCENE I. London.
London. An Ante-chamber in the Palace.

Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK at one door; at the other, the
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM and the LORD ABERGAVENNY.

Buckingham. Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done

Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber when

Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,
Met in the vale of Andren.

Norfolk.

'Twixt Guynes and Arde.

I was then present, saw them salute on horseback,
Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung
In their embracement, as they grew together;

Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have weigh'd
Such a compounded one?

Buckingham.

All the whole time

Then you lost

I was my chamber's prisoner.

Norfolk.

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: 2 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 labor
Was to them as a painting; now this mask
Was cried incomparable, and the ensuing night
Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings,
Equal in luster, were now best, now worst,
* For notes see pages at the end of the play.

As presence did present them: him in eye,
Still him in praise; and, being present both,
'T was said they saw but one, and no discerner
Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns
For so they phrase 'em - by their heralds challeng'd
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform

Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous story,
Being now seen possible enough, got credit,

4

That Bevis was believ'd.

Buckingham.

O, you go far!

Norfolk. As I belong to worship, and affect
In honor honesty, the tract of every thing
Would by a good discourser lose some life

Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal:
To the disposing of it nought rebell'd;

5

Order gave each thing view; the office did
Distinctly his full function.

Buckingham

Who did guide,

I mean, who set the body and the limbs

Of this great sport together, as you guess?

Norfolk. One, certes, that promises no element In such a business.

Buckingham.

I pray, you, who, my lord?

Norfolk. All this was order'd by the good discretion Of the right reverend Cardinal of York.

Buckingham.

No man's pie is freed

From his ambitious finger. What had he

6

To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder
That such a keech can with his very bulk.
Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun,
And keep it from the earth.

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, 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.

What heaven hath given him, let some graver eye Pierce into that; but I can see his pride

Peep through each part of him.

Buckingham.

He makes up the file

Of all the gentry, for the most part such
To whom as great a charge as little honor
He meant to lay upon; and his own letter,
The honorable board of council out,

Must fetch him in he papers.7

Abergavenny.

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.

Buckingham.

O, many

Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em 8 For this great journey. What did this vanity

But minister communication of

A most poor issue?

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

Buckingham.

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