That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf’s hands Worked busily a day, and there she stands. Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said “Fra Pandolf” by design, for never read Strangers like you that pictured countenance, The depth and passion of its earnest glance, But to myself they turned (since none puts by The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst, How such a glance came there; so, not the first Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not Her husband’s presence only, called that spot Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps Fra Pandolf chanced to say, “Her mantle laps Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint Must never hope to reproduce the faint Half-flush that dies along her throat.” Such stuff Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough For calling up that spot of joy. She had A heart—how shall I say?— too soon made glad, Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er She looked on, and her looks went everywhere. Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast, The dropping of the daylight in the West, The bough of cherries some officious fool Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule She rode with round the terrace—all and each Would draw from her alike the approving speech, Or blush, at least. She thanked men—good! but thanked Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame This sort of trifling? Even had you skill In speech—which I have not—to make your will Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, Or there exceed the mark”—and if she let Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse— E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt, Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet The company below, then. I repeat, The Count your master’s known munificence Is ample warrant that no just pretense Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though, Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.
Surgeons did not formally divorce their specialty from barbers until 1540, when King Henry VIII of England issued a royal decree separating the two professions. According to the decree, surgeons should no longer be barbers, and barbers should restrict surgery to dentistry. Internal medicine lagged behind surgery during this period.
So this week has been pretty chaotic. We move out of our office in 2 weeks and I’ve been helping coordinate that and with the other departments on my floor leaving at the same time (our building is being renovated) it’s a mishmash of meetings, packing, chatting with coworkers about how weird it is to have our departments separated for the next year. Anyhoo, because of all this, I haven’t been…
Henry viii starts tonight. They’ve asked us not to set fire to the thatch. RUDE. After we brought this cannon and its wadding along specially to celebrate the birth of Princess Elizabeth, too.
Alfred the Great: buys just enough canned food and duct tape to the point where you’re not overly concerned but you are pretty sure he’s a doomsday prepper
Aethelflaed: fills three carts with snack cakes, those church basement paper cups, and generic brand soda because no one can negotiate a surrender on an empty stomach
Athelstan: that is far too much coffee
Aethelred the Unready: just buying every single item on his wife’s list. This is the fourth store he’s been to because Emma is very specific.
Cnut: only came here for all his Special Haircare Products
William the Conqueror: fills up a cart and just leaves without paying. just fucking books it to the parking lot I hate him
Matilda: comes in with three rowdy boys, tells them to not ask for ANYTHING, buys an armload of 5-hour energies, leaves with two rowdy boys
Henry II: walks around the store eating a bag of grapes he has not bought while Eleanor does the actual shopping
Richard I: will find a way to talk about his study abroad last year with the deli guy if it kills him. Is also texting his mom to ask what groceries he needs to buy because he has no idea
John: verbally berating everyone in customer service because they won’t let him return a dented can of peas that expired 7 years ago
Edward I: tries to use a 24 year old coupon to buy lentils in bulk (he doesn’t even like lentils?) and knocks over an elaborate pepsi display in a fit of rage
Edward II: has his card declined and demands to know why the cashier had to be so loud about it
Edward III: says “guess it’s FREE THEN HAHAHA!!!” when an item doesn’t scan right away. several items do not scan. Gets a veteran’s discount.
Richard II: that’s uhhh… a lot of advil there buddy
Henry V: also has his card declined but drops the “DO YOU KNOW WHO MY FATHER IS” line, is dressed like lucky luciano
Henry VI: begins to panic when Margaret leaves him in line for two minutes because she forgot eggs. the line is moving quickly…so quickly
Edward IV: he has one cart filled with wine. Elizabeth Woodville has another filled with kid cuisines.
Henry VII: pulls out the fattest binder you have ever seen and it’s filled with coupons. His transactions usually take 2 hours and he tsks the entire time.
Henry VIII: buys bags of charcoal and dog food just so he can pick them all up and be like “yeah this isn’t even heavy to me I don’t even feel it” also buys condoms and laughs nervously
Edward VI: literally just buying root vegetables even though he’s 9 because he is so weird
Mary I: just coming in for her weekly supply of “praying for you” cards, always gives exact change thank you mary
Elizabeth I (if these even count as medieval anymore): no longer allowed to do her own shopping after the sweet n low incident. Now a personal shopper gets her groceries for her. it is robert dudley
OTD May 19th 1536, Anne Boleyn is beheaded by a French Swordsman at the Tower of London after being found guilty of adultery, incest and treason. Her body lies in the Chapel of St Peter Ad Vincula - may she rest in peace
I’m sorry, but this is the most embarrassing fake Q&A I’ve ever seen a novelist publish on their website
I may be a Richard III enthusiast but if I see one more lukewarm take about blah blah Shakespeare forced by Elizabeth I to write RichardIII as evil because of some political ploy I’m throwing them in a lake
This is not the first time I’ve seen them compare Tudor propaganda to fake news and it just makes me wonder whether they know anything about Early Modern England at all? First, there were no big media outlets nor any effective means of mass communication to brainwash the population. Second, why did Elizabeth I even need to blacken Richard III’s name? There were no Plantagenets around to claim the throne, her dynasty was in fact on its way out and all possible successors descended from Henry VII, so it’s not like there were any practical reasons to boost the dynasty’s legitimacy. Thirdly, the usual authors they claim to have been pure Tudor minions, Polydore Vergil and Thomas More, both got in trouble with Henry VIII so they were clearly very capable of expressing their own thoughts and opinions.
They insist on a conspiracy theory that verges on anti-intellectualism and disregards everything about actual Tudor history.
Also, one of the reasons Thomas More left his history unfinished and it only circulated in manuscript among elites is likely due to his fears it was too politically subversive, particularly when discussing a Duke of Buckingham. Not only that, More came from a Yorkist family and may well have met Elizabeth Shore.
TheMary Rose, the pride of King Henry VIII’s naval fleet, sank in the Solent while leading an attack on the galleys of a French invasion fleet on this day in history, 19 July 1545. The sunken ship was discovered in 1971 and a salvage operation began in 1982. It is currently in the final stages of conservation and a magnificent museum exists at the Portsmouth Historic Dockyard to showcase the warship’s remains.
