of King Henry the Eighth,) and it was noted as being his practice before his actual arrival in London as king. Thus Manningham: "Jo. Grant told me that the King useth in walking among his nobles oftentimes to lean upon their shoulders as a special favour, and in disgrace to neglect some in that kindness." Roger Coke (Detection, &c. p. 50.) speaks of it as an odious custom; and, if we may trust Sir Anthony Weldon, the King used this familiarity with the Earl of Somerset, at their last parting at Theobalds. (Court and Character, ed. 1817, p. 32.) Even before his coronation the discontent of Lord Cobham and Lord Grey had ripened into a conspiracy. It was detected, and they were arrested in the month of July. It seems as if the Poet meant that the audience should think of this when he makes King Henry say My life itself and the best heart of it The extraordinary efforts of the citizens of London to demonstrate their loyalty, both on the King's entrance into London and on the day of his coronation, and the proper reception of it by the King, may seem to have been in the Poet's mind when he wrote The citizens I am sure have shewn at full their loyal minds: As, let them have their rights they are ever forward, Pageants, and sights of honour. Never greater, Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, Sir.-Act iv. Sc. 1. No doubt this refers in the first instance to the time of Henry the Eighth and the proper business of the play: but we may see in the turn of the phrase something like proof that the passages just quoted referred also to some more recent exhibitions. The combined effect of these circumstances is to raise a strong presumption that, notwithstanding the testimony of Sir Henry Wotton, that the play was a new one in 1613, yet that it was really written and represented within four or five months of the death of Queen Elizabeth in 1603: and that in the preparation of it the Poet had the particular object in view to introduce upon his stage the two most popular incidents of the day, the death of Queen Elizabeth and the coronation of King James. The speech of Cranmer, with which the play concludes, may, if this view be the correct one, be regarded as the poetical offering of Shakespeare to King James on his accession, when, as Daniel remarks, all the poets In the prime Of that new-raising season they did strive If this was not his offering, then, when the whole poetical chorus broke forth in terms of rejoicing, was Shakespeare dumb: for there are no verses written on that occasion except these were, which can with any probability be attributed to him. It is quite true that on another public occasion, when through the breadth of the land there was A voice of weeping heard and loud lament on the death of Prince Henry, and when almost every poetic voice was raised, Shakespeare is not to be found. This is singular, and the fact has never been explained. But it was so obvious a course for a dramatist to take, then in the height of his reputation, that it seems hard to suppose that Shakespeare would offer no tribute to the new sovereign, when all his brethren of song were forward with their lays. At any rate we have these lines, and, whether written at the opening of the new reign, or when the pacific character of the new prince was fully understood by the long peace which England had enjoyed, it may safely be predicted that no verse produced on that occasion Will outlast this powerful rhyme. That we do not find him either on the occasion of the accession of King James, or of the coronation, or of the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth, or of the death of Prince Henry, or even of the death of Queen Elizabeth, adding his voice in the sounds of woe or rejoicing which proceeded from so many of his poetical contemporaries, is a circumstance of the Poet's history or character which well deserves to be made the subject of inquiry. And with it might be united an inquiry into the reason why we have no commendatory verses by Shakespeare, when such interchange of civilities were so frequent. Again, why any occasional verses of any kind which can in reasonable probability be attributed to him are so few and so little worthy his genius. And still again, why, after that early period of his life in which he produced his Venus and his Lucrece, he produced no other poems of that class, nor any other poems in the later and matured period of his life? It would seem as if he were become averse from composition, a state of mind likely to be produced in one who had long been in the practice of writing for an immediate pecuniary reward, no uncommon conse quence. That, in forbearing to fall into the custom of the times, of commending in set compositions the works of other poets, he was actuated by feelings of jealousy or envy, can hardly be supposed of a man of his free and generous nature. It is, however, the fact, that we have very little of what can be considered a tribute from him to those who had been instinct with poetic fire before his time, or contemporary with him. There are even strokes in his Sonnets which seem levelled at great poetical names, but we are very imperfectly acquainted with the circumstances which called for them. This Play has been adduced as an instance that he did not seek out for occasions on which to bestow a word of praise on poets who had preceded him. He might, it is said, have introduced the poetical Earl of Surrey as one of the characters, as he had from the beginning proposed to introduce more than one member of the illustrious house of Howard. We have, indeed, an Earl of Surrey as well as a Duke of Norfolk; and the case would be worse were this the poetical Earl, since to introduce him at all without some word which should shew that he had other honours than those of ancestry and rank, would have been worse than an entire oblivion of him. But the Earl of Surrey of this Play is not the poetical Earl, but his father, as appears by his calling the Duke of Buckingham his father-in-law. The same want of strict identification of individuals in the series of the English titles of honour, which we have before had occasion to remark, is conspicuous in the Howards of this Play. It is plain that the Poet had no clear conception of what belonged to each, and his confusion is worse confounded by the mistakes of the original editors. The First Scene of this Play has descended to us with the text sadly corrupted, and not yet satisfactorily restored. As to the rest, the text is in a better state than that of most of the Plays, and the difficulties are less than usual. Our remarks on particular passages will, therefore, be few. I. 1. NORFOLK. Surely, Sir, There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends : To eminent assistants, but spider-like, A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys Thus has Mr. Malone attempted to restore the latter portion of this passage, which, in the only authoritative copies we possess, stands thus : but spider-like Out of his self-drawing web. O! gives us note, The force of his own merit makes his way. A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys But the passage demands a bolder restoration; and I ven ture to propose the following: but, spider-like, Out of himself drawing his web. O! this gives us note, The force of his own merit makes his way: A gift that heaven has given him buys for him A place next to the king. Here at least we have what is intelligible; and with this agrees what Abergavenny immediately says, I cannot tell What heaven has given him, let some graver eye Pierce into that: but I can see his pride Peep through each part of him. There are other passages in this Scene which require a critical restoration which must be quite as resolute as this. I. 4. GUILDFORD. he would have all as merry As first-good company, good wine, good welcome, What a compound is this: "first-good!" Poor Shakespeare has been sadly tortured, indeed, by his editors. It was Theobald who invented it; the Variorum perpetuated it; and Mr. Knight crowns it. The folios read, As first, good company, good wine, good welcome, |