Thomas of Woodstock by William Shakespeare - Apocryphal (Illustrated)

William Shakespeare (Apocryphal), Delphi Classics

• Verlag: Delphi Classics (Parts Edition)
• Jahr: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781786563224
• Thema: Letteratura
• Thema: Classici

This eBook features the unabridged text of 'Thomas of Woodstock' from the bestselling edition of 'The Complete Works of William Shakespeare'.

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eBook features:
* The complete unabridged text of 'Thomas of Woodstock'
* Beautifully illustrated with images related to Shakespeare's works
* Individual contents table, allowing easy navigation around the eBook
* Excellent formatting of the text
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Act I, Scene 1 [A house near London]

Omnes

Lights, lights, bring torches, knaves!

Lancaster

Shut to the gates,

Let no man out until the house be searched.

York

Call for our coaches, let us away good brother

Now by the blest saints, I fear we are poisoned all.

Arundel

Poisoned my Lord?

Lancaster

Ay, ay, good Arundel, it is high time begone.

May heaven be blest for this prevention.

York

God, for thy mercy! would our cousin King

So cozen us, to poison us in our meat?

Lancaster

Has no man here some helping antidote

For fear already we have taken some dram?

What thinkest thou, Cheyney, thou first broughtst the

Tidings. are we not poisoned, thinkest thou?

Cheyney

Fear not, my Lords.

That mischievous potion was as yet unserved.

It was a liquid bane dissolved in wine

Which after supper should have been caroused

To young King Richard’s health.

Lancaster

Good in faith! are his Uncles’ deaths become

Health to King Richard? how came it out?

Sir Thomas Cheyney, pray resolve us.

Cheyney

A Carmelite friar, my Lord, revealed the plot

And should have acted it, but touched in conscience

He came to your good brother, the Lord Protector,

And so disclosed it; who straight sent me to you.

York

The Lord protect him for it, ay, and our cousin

King. high heaven be judge, we wish all good to him.

Lancaster

A heavy charge, good Woodstock, hast thou had

To be protector to so wild a prince

So far degenerate from his noble father

Whom the trembling French the black prince called

Not of a swart and melancholy brow

(For sweet and lovely was his countenance)

But that he made so many funeral days

In mournful France: the warlike battles won

At Crecy field, Poitiers, Artoise and Maine

Made all France groan under his conquering arm.

But heaven forestalled his diadem on earth

To place him with a royal crown in heaven.

Rise may his dust to glory! ere he would have done

A deed so base unto his enemy,

Much less unto the brothers of his father,

He would first have lost his royal blood in drops,

Dissolved the strings of his humanity

And lost that livelihood that was preserved

To make his (unlike) son a wanton King.

York

Forbear, good John-of-Gaunt; believe me, brother

We may do wrong unto our cousin King.

I fear his flattering minions more than him.

Lancaster

By the blest virgin, noble Edmund York

I am past all patience. poison his subjects,

His royal Uncles! why, the proud Castilian

Where John-of-Gaunt writes King and sovereign,

Would not throw off their vild and servile yoke

By treachery so base. patience, gracious Heaven!

Arundel

A good invoke, right princely Lancaster,

Calm thy high spleen. sir Thomas Cheyney here

Can tell the circumstance; pray give him leave.

Lancaster

Well, let him speak.

Cheyney

It is certainly made known, my reverend Lords,

To your loved brother, and the good protector

That n...