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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Was—were he evil used, he would outgo
His father by as much as a performance
Does an irresolute purpose. King
There’s his period,
To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach’d;
Call him to present trial: if he may
Find mercy in the law, ’tis his; if none,
Let him not seek’t of us: by day and night,
He’s traitor to the height. Exeunt.
An ante-chamber in the palace.
Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Sands. ChamberlainIs’t possible the spells of France should juggle
Men into such strange mysteries?
New customs,
Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let ’em be unmanly, yet are follow’d.
As far as I see, all the good our English
Have got by the late voyage is but merely
A fit or two o’ the face; but they are shrewd ones;
For when they hold ’em, you would swear directly
Their very noses had been counsellors
To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so.
They have all new legs, and lame ones: one would take it,
That never saw ’em pace before, the spavin
Or springhalt reign’d among ’em.
Death! my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,
That, sure, they’ve worn out Christendom.
How now!
What news, Sir Thomas Lovell?
Faith, my lord,
I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That’s clapp’d upon the court-gate.
The reformation of our travell’d gallants,
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.
I’m glad ’tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs
To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre.
They must either,
For so run the conditions, leave those remnants
Of fool and feather that they got in France,
With all their honourable point of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks,
Abusing better men than they can be,
Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean
The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings,
Short blister’d breeches, and those types of travel,
And understand again like honest men;
Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it,
They may, “cum privilegio,” wear away
The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh’d at.
’Tis time to give ’em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.
What a loss our ladies
Will have of these trim vanities!
Ay, marry,
There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies;
A French song and a fiddle has no fellow.
The devil fiddle ’em! I am glad they are going,
For, sure, there’s no converting of ’em: now
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plain-song
And have an hour of hearing; and, by’r lady,
Held current music too.
Well said, Lord Sands;
Your colt’s tooth is not cast yet.
No, my lord;
Nor shall not, while I have a stump.
Sir Thomas,
Whither were you a-going?
To the cardinal’s:
Your lordship is a guest too.
O, ’tis true:
This night he makes a supper, and a great one,
To many lords and ladies; there will be
The beauty of this kingdom, I’ll assure you.
That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us;
His dews fall every where.
No doubt he’s noble;
He had a black mouth that said other of him.
He may, my lord; has wherewithal: in him
Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine:
Men of his way should be most liberal;
They are set here for examples.
True, they are so;
But few now give so great ones. My barge stays;
Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas,
We shall be late else; which I would not be,
For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford
This night to be comptrollers.
A Hall in York Place.
Hautboys. A small table under a state for the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. Then enter Anne Bullen and divers other Ladies and Gentlemen as guests, at one door; at another door, enter Sir Henry Guildford. GuildfordLadies, a general welcome from his grace
Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates
To fair content and you: none here, he hopes,
In all this noble bevy, has brought with her
One care abroad; he would have all as merry
As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome,
Can make good people. O, my lord, you’re tardy:
The very thought of this fair company
Clapp’d wings to me.
Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal
But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these
Should find a running banquet ere they rested,
I think would better please ’em: by my life,
They are a sweet society of fair ones.
O, that your lordship were but now confessor
To one or two of these!
I would I were;
They should find easy penance.
Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry,
Place you that side; I’ll take the charge of this:
His grace is entering. Nay, you must not freeze;
Two women placed together makes cold weather:
My Lord Sands, you are one will keep ’em waking;
Pray, sit between these ladies.
By my faith,
And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies:
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;
I had it from my father.
O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too:
But he would bite none; just as I do now,
He would kiss you twenty with a breath. Kisses her.
Well said, my lord.
So, now you’re fairly seated. Gentlemen,
The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies
Pass away frowning.
For my little cure,
Let me alone.
You’re welcome, my fair guests: that noble lady,
Or gentleman, that is not freely merry,
Is not my friend: this, to confirm my welcome;
And to you all, good health. Drinks.
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