It may be behind a paywall for non-subscribers, so I apologize, but I found this archived article (a review by Paul Dean of A Will to Believe: Shakespeare and Religion by David Scott Kastan) at The New Criterion fascinating because of this paragraph:
The law compelled Shakespeare to be ingenious and allusive, even if he had not been so by nature. The representation of liturgical services onstage was forbidden; indeed, the reformers routinely denounced the Mass as a species of play-acting. Such condemnations looked back to the medieval cycle plays with their medley of scriptural, patristic, legendary, and folkloric traditions, their range of tones and moods welcoming everything from the exalted to the scatological and farcical. It was these plays that Shakespeare experienced as a live theatrical tradition when he saw them at Coventry as a teenager; his use of the Bible and the prayer book is colored by this more eclectic heritage. The plays are equally distorted by those who seek a Protestant or Catholic bias, for there were many varieties of each, and drama thrives on dialectical debate. “Whether the Reformation was motivated from above or below,” Kastan comments, “it was, in either case, incomplete.” Arguably it was complete only with the expulsion of the Catholic James II in 1688 and his replacement, at the invitation of Parliament, by the Dutch Protestants William and Mary.
Arguably? Since other changes in the Book of Common Prayer and Church of England doctrine and liturgy (both and after the Tractarian movement) continued to occur, I think one could argue about that.
And this comment, offering a perfect example of litotes:
Elizabeth I’s religious temper was famously enigmatic; candles burned on the altar in her private chapel, to the scandal of many, and she kept her most Puritan Archbishop of Canterbury, Edmund Grindal, under virtual house-arrest, yet she was no friend to Roman Catholics.
The abstract of the book from Oxford Academic describes A Will to Believe thus:
On 19 December 1601, John Croke, then Speaker of the House of Commons, addressed his colleagues: “If a question should be asked, What is the first and chief thing in a Commonwealth to be regarded? I should say, religion. If, What is the second? I should say, religion. If, What the third? I should still say, religion.” But if religion was recognized as the “chief thing in a Commonwealth,” we have been less certain what it does in Shakespeare’s plays. Written and performed in a culture in which religion was indeed inescapable, the plays have usually been seen either as evidence of Shakespeare’s own disinterested secularism or, more recently, as coded signposts to his own sectarian commitments. Based upon the inaugural series of the Oxford-Wells Shakespeare Lectures in 2008, this book offers a thoughtful, surprising, and often moving consideration of how religion actually functions in them: not as keys to Shakespeare’s own faith but as remarkably sensitive registers of the various ways in which religion charged the world in which he lived. The book shows what we know and can’t know about Shakespeare’s own beliefs, and demonstrates, in a series of wonderfully alert and agile readings, how the often fraught and vertiginous religious environment of Post-Reformation England gets refracted by the lens of Shakespeare’s imagination.
Within the review of Kastan's book, Dean also refers to two other books also from Oxford University Press: The Bible in Shakespeare by Hannibal Hamlin and Shakespeare's Common Prayers: The Book of Common Prayer and the Elizabethan Age by Daniel Swift.
Image Credit (Public Domain): The Plays of William Shakespeare, a painting containing scenes and characters from several plays of Shakespeare; by Sir John Gilbert, c. 1849.(Notice that Henry VIII is the most dominating and entirely portrayed figure! Compare it to the Apotheosis of Shakespeare's Characters, 1871 from the Yale Center for British Art by the same artist: Henry VIII is in in the upper left, much less dominating!)
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