Edward III by William Shakespeare (new ebook reader TXT) 📕
Description
The authorship of Edward III has been up for debate ever since it was first published in 1596. Its publisher, Cuthbert Burby, published it without listing an author, and any records that might have shed light on the author’s name (or names) were destroyed in the Great Fire of London in 1666. In the 1760s, the acclaimed scholar Edward Capell was one of the first to claim that William Shakespeare might have been the author.
Many other academicians support this claim, or at least suggest Shakespeare partially wrote it, as certain archaic or obscure words and phrases found in the canonical Shakespearean plays also appear in this one. Others argue that Shakespeare would never write something so historically inaccurate; suggestions of possible alternative playwrights include Thomas Kyd, Christopher Marlowe, Michael Drayton, Thomas Nashe, and George Peele. While the legitimate authorship may never come to light, Edward III has become accepted as part of Shakespeare’s canon of plays.
After the King of France passes away, a new heir must take the throne; without any brothers or sons in the direct line, the crown falls to his nephew, King Edward of England. French nobles refuse to hand over France to the English, claiming that the right of succession should never have passed through his mother Isabel, and order Edward to acknowledge King John as the rightful successor. These disputed claims to the kingdom of France launch the Hundred Years’ War.
This Standard Ebooks production is based on G. C. Moore Smith’s 1897 edition.
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- Author: William Shakespeare
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Yet, good my lord, ’tis too much wilfulness,
To let his blood be spilt that may be sav’d.
Exclaim no more; for none of you can tell
Whether a borrow’d aid will serve or no.
Perhaps, he is already slain or ta’en:
And dare a falcon when she’s in her flight,
And ever after she’ll be haggard-like:
Let Edward be deliver’d by our hands,
And still in danger he’ll expect the like;
But if himself himself redeem from thence,
He will have vanquish’d, cheerful, death and fear,
And ever after dread their force no more
Than if they were but babes or captive slaves.
But, soft; me thinks I hear Retreat sounded.
The dismal charge of trumpets’ loud retreat:
All are not slain, I hope, that went with him;
Some will return with tidings, good or bad.
First having done my duty, as beseem’d, Kneels, and kisses his father’s hand.
Lords, I regreet you all with hearty thanks.
And now, behold—after my winter’s toil,
My painful voyage on the boist’rous sea
Of war’s devouring gulfs and steely rocks—
I bring my fraught unto the wished port,
My summer’s hope, my travel’s sweet reward:
And here with humble duty I present
This sacrifice, this firstfruit of my sword,
Cropp’d and cut down even at the gate of death,
The King of Boheme, father, whom I slew;
Whose thousands had intrench’d me round about,
And lay as thick upon my batter’d crest
As on an anvil, with their pond’rous glaives:
Yet marble courage still did underprop;
And when my weary arms with often blows—
Like the continual-lab’ring woodman’s axe
That is enjoin’d to fell a load of oaks—
Began to falter, straight I would remember
My gifts you gave me and my zealous vow,
And then new courage made me fresh again;
That, in despite, I carv’d my passage forth
And put the multitude to speedy flight.
Lo, thus hath Edward’s hand fill’d your request,
And done, I hope, the duty of a knight.
Ay, well thou hast deserv’d a knighthood, Ned!
And, therefore, with thy sword, yet reeking warm Receiving it from the soldier who bore it and laying it on the kneeling Prince.
With blood of those that fought to be thy bane,
Arise, Prince Edward, trusty knight at arms:
This day thou hast confounded me with joy
And proved thyself fit heir unto a king.
Here is a note, my gracious lord, of those
That in this conflict of our foes were slain:
Eleven princes of esteem; fourscore
Barons; a hundred and twenty knights;
And thirty thousand common soldiers;
And, of our men, a thousand.
Our God be praised! Now, John of France, I hope,
Thou know’st King Edward for no wantonness,
No love-sick cockney; nor his soldiers, jades.—
But which way is the fearful king escap’d?
Ned, thou and Audley shall pursue them still;
Myself and Derby will to Calice straight,
And there be begirt that Haven town with siege.
Now lies it on an upshot; therefore strike,
And wistly follow whiles the game’s on foot.
What picture’s this? Pointing to the colours.
A pelican, my lord,
Wounding her bosom with her crooked beak
That so her nest of young ones may be fed
With drops of blood that issue from her heart;
The motto, “Sic et vos,” “and so should you.” Flourish. Exeunt in triumph.
Bretagne. Camp of the English.
Forces under the Earl of Salisbury; Salisbury’s Tent. Enter Salisbury; to him, Lord Mountford, attended, a coronet in his hand. MountfordMy Lord of Salisbury, since by your aid
Mine enemy Sir Charles of Blois is slain,
And I again am quietly possess’d
In Britain’s dukedom, know that I resolve,
For this kind furth’rance of your king and you,
To swear allegiance to his majesty:
In sign whereof receive this coronet,
Bear it unto him, and, withal, mine oath,
Never to be but Edward’s faithful friend.
I take it, Mountford: thus, I hope, ere long
The whole dominions of the realm of France
Will be surrender’d to his conquering hand. Exit Mountford and Train.
Now, if I knew but safely how to pass,
I would at Calice gladly meet his grace,
Whither I am by letters certified
That he intends to have his host remov’d.
It shall be so: this policy will serve:—
Ho, who’s within? Bring Villiers to me.—
Villiers, thou know’st, thou art my prisoner,
And that I might for ransom, if I would,
Require of thee a hundred thousand francs,
Or else retain and keep thee captive still:
But so it is, that for a smaller charge
Thou may’st be quit, and if thou wilt thyself;
And this it is, procure me but a passport
Of Charles the Duke of Normandy, that I
Without restraint may have recourse to Calice
Through all the countries where he hath to do,
(Which thou may’st easily obtain, I think,
By reason I have often heard thee say,
He and thyself were students once together)
And then thou shalt be set at liberty.
How say’st thou? wilt thou undertake to do it?
Why, so thou shalt; take horse, and post from hence:
Only, before thou go’st, swear by thy faith
That, if thou canst not compass my desire,
Thou wilt return my prisoner back again;
And that shall be sufficient warrant for me.
To that condition I agree, my lord,
And will unfeignedly perform the same.
Farewell, Villiers.—Exit Villiers.
This once I mean to try a Frenchman’s faith. Exit.
Picardy. The English camp before Calais.
Enter King Edward and Derby, with
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