point it out to the poet composing for him, who nevertheless would not have altered it. For these variations are of the greatest use to the poet, limited as he is in time and place, because they enable him to complete what has been seen, by what is heard; as in Cymbeline we gain a better insight into the circumstances, which made this singular wager possible.

HENRY VIII.

In the series of Shakespeare's later works we have met with several observations, which seem to betray to us, that there were moments in his later years, when his mental interest in his own writings declined, perhaps in consequence of physical debility. The unrefreshing character of the ethical subjects of some of the dramas of this latter period, the tardy revision of such a worthless play as Pericles, the æsthetic defects in Antony, the unfinished form of Timon, the mistake as to material and aim in Troilus, all this might indeed prepare us for the time, when the poet, having so early discontinued his activity as an actor, would also renounce his vocation as a poet. It has been lately conjectured, that we may lay hold, as it were, of this very moment in the production of the historical play of Henry VIII., in which Shakespeare it is supposed, at the very close of his dramatic career, left his old companions a mere sketch to be carried out in the dramatic celebration of a court festivity, an end, which this same historical play must have served even in the former century. The drama, overloaded with pomp and show, is a masque written for some occasion, like the Tempest and the

Midsummer Night's Dream; it was formerly believed to have originated on the occasion of the coronation of king James and his queen Anne (24th July 1603); the later opinion to which we refer (Gentleman's Magazine 34. 115 et seq.), supposes that the marriage of the princess Elizabeth (Feb. 1612) was the cause, which may have induced Burbadge's company to obtain Shakespeare's ground-work for the play, which they elaborated into this masque, a form, for which the poet himself would hardly have designed his historical drama. If the play really came from Shakespeare's hand at this period of his closing dramatic career, it would be a strange sport of fate, that this last of his productions should soon, like a sad and farewell celebration of this event, cause a tragic holocaust. When on June 29th 1613, (according to a notice by Sir Henry Wotton) the play was represented by Burbadge's company under the title of "All is True", a title to which the epilogue alludes, the theatre caught fire from the discharge of some small canons, and the Globe, for so many years the scene of the poet's fame, was burnt to the ground.

A long time ago, Roderick, in Edward's Canons of Criticism, hesitated at some peculiarities in the versification of Henry VIII.; but never since then has the genuineness of the play been doubted, at the most the prologue and epilogue were denied as the work of the poet's pen. Indeed the strictly logical design of the four main characters suffered no doubt to arise, as no other poet of the time could have sketched their psychological outline with such sharpness, however much assistance the historical sources (Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, as copied in the chronicles), and two previous dramatic works upon Wolsey by Chettle and

his companions, might have afforded. First of all in the character of the Duke of Buckingham, we look once again upon the age of the great armed nobility, with their pretensions and rebellions, which were the soul of the history under the houses of York and Lancaster, although in our present play, the physiognomy of the age appears wholly changed, compared to the character of that earlier epoch. The noise of arms has ceased, the prominent personages are men of education, mind, and well-won merit; the duke himself has kept up with the change of the time; he is not merely an ambitious man of the sword; he is learned, wise in council, rich in mind, and a fascinating orator. Nevertheless we see him standing in the midst of a number of other nobles, partly related to him, Norfolk, Surrey, Abergavenny, who conspire to maintain the old authority of the nobles, to whom the greatness of the upstart Wolsey is a thorn in their eye, who regard it as insufferable that "a beggar's book outworths a noble's blood", that the scarlet-robe should assume the importance of their rank, and that difference in persons should be at an end. In proud passion, in the restless haste of personal contempt, Buckingham seeks to lay a snare for the Cardinal, and falls himself into the net. He imputed to the priest, grasping and treasonous plans, he pryed too artfully and over-shot his mark; but he himself was not unversed in bold ambitious projects, which his clever adversary knew how to turn against him as crimes. He was the next heir to the throne in the Beaufort branch of the Lancastrian house, if the king died without issue. As the son of that Buckingham, who assisted Richard III. to the throne, and afterwards rebelled against him, he delighted in these remembrances of the

history of his house; he plays wantonly with his aspiring thoughts, and speculates upon the lack of a male heir, which caused Henry so much doubt and jealousy; he gains the love of the commonalty; he listens readily to the prophecies of silly prophets, who flatter his dreams of greatness; he expresses himself imprudently once when threatened with imprisonment:

The part, my father meant to act upon

The usurper Richard: who, being at Salisbury,
Made suit to come in his presence; which, if granted,
As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him".

This is stated by his surveyor, bribed by Wolsey, and it brings the man to the scaffold, who erred rather from foolish indiscretion, than from actual criminal intentions. When he is fallen, he collects himself after his sentence; he dies composed and noble, forgiving, without hatred, already "half in heaven", completely devoid of all pride of rank in that moment, which so impressively calls to remembrance the vanity of such distinctions.

In contrast to him stands Wolsey, who, born in a lower rank, had by his own mental power raised himself to the highest positions in the church and state, to the place nearest the king and the Pope. King Henry had indeed inherited his love for this man from his father, he regarded him as one who could not err, and for such a one the cardinal knew how to make himself pass; he overloaded him with benefits and advantages, raised him to the first dignity in the kingdom, and permitted him proudly and imperiously