Henry VIII by William Shakespeare (icecream ebook reader .txt) 📕
Description
Henry VIII is one of the few of Shakespeare’s plays thought to have been written with a collaborator. It was initially published in the First Folio under Shakespeare’s name only, but in 1850 James Spedding, an English author and expert on the works of Francis Bacon, suggested that the play was a collaboration with John Fletcher, a playwright who later replaced Shakespeare in the King’s Men acting company. Modern scholars mostly tend to agree, though the theory is still controversial as it’s based on textual analysis and not any historical mention of a collaboration. The play is also famous for having burned down the Globe Theatre in 1613 during one of its early performances, when a cannon shot special effect lit the theater’s thatched roof on fire.
In the play, King Henry’s closest advisor, Cardinal Wolsey, is hated by the citizens of England. Wolsey has imposed unfair taxes and unpopularly executed the Duke of Buckingham for treason. While at a party, the King falls madly in love with Anne Bullen and plans to divorce his current wife, Katherine of Aragon. Wolsey is asked to help his King in this endeavor, all the while becoming even more hated by the English and their Queen.
This Standard Ebooks production is based on William George Clark and William Aldis Wright’s 1887 Victoria edition, which is taken from the Globe edition.
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- Author: William Shakespeare
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To the old dam, treason—Charles the emperor,
Under pretence to see the queen his aunt—
For ’twas indeed his colour, but he came
To whisper Wolsey—here makes visitation:
His fears were, that the interview betwixt
England and France might, through their amity,
Breed him some prejudice; for from this league
Peep’d harms that menaced him: he privily
Deals with our cardinal; and, as I trow—
Which I do well; for I am sure the emperor
Paid ere he promised; whereby his suit was granted
Ere it was ask’d; but when the way was made,
And paved with gold, the emperor thus desired,
That he would please to alter the king’s course,
And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know,
As soon he shall by me, that thus the cardinal
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,
And for his own advantage. Norfolk
I am sorry
To hear this of him; and could wish he were
Something mistaken in’t.
No, not a syllable:
I do pronounce him in that very shape
He shall appear in proof.
Sir,
My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl
Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
Of our most sovereign king.
Lo, you, my lord,
The net has fall’n upon me! I shall perish
Under device and practice.
I am sorry
To see you ta’en from liberty, to look on
The business present: ’tis his highness’ pleasure
You shall to the Tower.
It will help me nothing
To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me
Which makes my whitest part black. The will of heaven
Be done in this and all things! I obey.
O my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well!
Nay, he must bear you company. The king To Abergavenny.
Is pleased you shall to the Tower, till you know
How he determines further.
As the duke said,
The will of heaven be done, and the king’s pleasure
By me obey’d!
Here is a warrant from
The king to attach Lord Montacute; and the bodies
Of the duke’s confessor, John de la Car,
One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor—
So, so;
These are the limbs o’ the plot: no more, I hope.
My surveyor is false; the o’er-great cardinal
Hath show’d him gold; my life is spann’d already:
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham,
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on,
By darkening my clear sun. My lord, farewell. Exeunt.
The same. The council-chamber.
Cornets. Enter the King, leaning on the Cardinal’s shoulder, the Nobles, and Sir Thomas Lovell; the Cardinal places himself under the King’s feet on his right side. KingMy life itself, and the best heart of it,
Thanks you for this great care: I stood i’ the level
Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks
To you that choked it. Let be call’d before us
That gentleman of Buckingham’s; in person
I’ll hear him his confessions justify;
And point by point the treasons of his master
He shall again relate.
Arise, and take place by us: half your suit
Never name to us; you have half our power:
The other moiety, ere you ask, is given;
Repeat your will and take it.
Thank your majesty.
That you would love yourself, and in that love
Not unconsider’d leave your honour, nor
The dignity of your office, is the point
Of my petition.
I am solicited, not by a few,
And those of true condition, that your subjects
Are in great grievance: there have been commissions
Sent down among ’em, which hath flaw’d the heart
Of all their loyalties: wherein, although,
My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches
Most bitterly on you, as putter on
Of these exactions, yet the king our master—
Whose honour heaven shield from soil!—even he escapes not
Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks
The sides of loyalty, and almost appears
In loud rebellion.
Not almost appears,
It doth appear; for, upon these taxations,
The clothiers all, not able to maintain
The many to them longing, have put off
The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who,
Unfit for other life, compell’d by hunger
And lack of other means, in desperate manner
Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar,
And danger serves among them.
Taxation!
Wherein? and what taxation? My lord cardinal,
You that are blamed for it alike with us,
Know you of this taxation?
Please you, sir,
I know but of a single part, in aught
Pertains to the state; and front but in that file
Where others tell steps with me.
No, my lord,
You know no more than others; but you frame
Things that are known alike; which are not wholesome
To those which would not know them, and yet must
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions,
Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are
Most pestilent to the bearing; and, to bear ’em,
The back is sacrifice to the load. They say
They are devised by you; or else you suffer
Too hard an exclamation.
Still exaction!
The nature of it? in what kind, let’s know,
Is this exaction?
I am much too venturous
In tempting of your patience; but am bolden’d
Under your promised pardon. The subjects’ grief
Comes through commissions, which compel from each
The sixth part of his substance, to be levied
Without delay; and the pretence for this
Is named, your wars in France: this makes bold mouths:
Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
Allegiance in them; their curses now
Live where their prayers did: and it’s come to pass,
This tractable obedience is a slave
To each incensed will. I would your highness
Would give it quick consideration, for
There is no primer business.
By my life,
This is against our pleasure.
And for me,
I have no further gone in this than by
A single voice; and that not pass’d me but
By learned approbation of the judges. If
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