The Life and Death of Lord Cromwell E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: Seltzer Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 77

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Elizabethan play, sometimes attributed in part to Shakespeare. According to Wikipedia: "William Shakespeare (baptised 26 April 1564 – died 23 April 1616) was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon" (or simply "The Bard"). His surviving works consist of 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language, and are performed more often than those of any other playwright."

Leseprobe

The Life And Death Of The Lord Cromwell, Attributed In Part To William Shakespeare

published by Samizdat Express, Orange, CT, USA

established in 1974, offering over 14,000 books

Other plays partially attributed to William Shakespeare:

Cromwell

Edward III

Faire Em

Fairy Tale in Two Acts

London Prodigal

Merry Devil

Puritaine Widdow

Sir John Oldcastle

Sir Thomas More

Tragedy of Locrine

Two Noble Kinsmen

All's One

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THE ACTORS NAMES.

OLD CROMWELL, a Black-smith at Putney.

Young THOMAS CROMWELL his son.

HODGE, WILL, and TOM, old Cromwell's servants.

Earl of BEDFORD and his Host.

Dukes of NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.

Sir CHRISTOPHER HALES.

Cardinal WOLSEY.

Sir THOMAS MOOR.

GARDINER Bishop of Winchester.

Sir RALPH SADLER.

M. BOUSER a Merchant.

BANISTER, a broken Merchant and his wife.

BAGOT, a cruel covetous Broker.

FRISKIBALL a Florentine Merchant.

The Governours of the ENGLISH house at ANTWERP.

States and Officers of BONONIA.

Good-man SEELY and his wife JOAN.

CHORUS.

A POST.

MESSENGERS.

USHERS and SERVANTS.

LIEUTENANT OF THE TOWER.

TWO CITIZENS.

TWO MERCHANTS.

ACT I. SCENE I. Putney.  The entrance of a smith's shop.

[Enter three Smiths, Hodge and two other, old Cromwell's

men.]

HODGE.

Come, masters, I think it be past five a clock; is it not

time we were at work: my old Master he'll be stirring

anon.

FIRST SMITH.

I cannot tell whether my old master will be stirring or

no:  but I am sure I can hardly take my afternoon's nap,

for my young Master Thomas, he keeps such a quile in

his study, with the Sun, and the Moon, and the seven

stars, that I do verily think he'll read out his wife.

HODGE.

He skill of the stars! there's good-man Car of Fulhum,

he that carried us to the strong Ale, where goody

Trundell had her maid got with child:  O he knows the

stars.  He'll tickle you Charles Waine in nine degrees.

That same man will tell you goody Trundell when her

Ale shall miscarry, only by the stars.

SECOND SMITH.

Aye, that's a great virtue; indeed I think Thomas be no

body in comparison to him.

FIRST SMITH.

Well, masters, come, shall we to our hammers?

HODGE.

Aye, content; first let's take our morning's draught, and

then to work roundly.

SECOND SMITH.

Aye, agreed; go in, Hodge.

[Exit omnes.]

ACT I. SCENE II. The same.

[Enter young Cromwell.]

CROMWELL.

Good morrow, morn, I do salute thy brightness.

The night seems tedious to my troubled soul,

Whose black obscurity binds in my mind

A thousand sundry cogitations:

And now Aurora, with a lively dye,

Adds comfort to my spirit that mounts on high--

Too high indeed, my state being so mean.

My study, like a mineral of gold,

Makes my heart proud, wherein my hopes enrolled;

My books is all the wealth I do possess.

[Here within they must beat with their hammers.]

And unto them I have engaged my heart.

O learning, how divine thou seems to me:

Within whose arms is all felicity.

Peace with your hammers! leave your knocking there:

You do disturb my study and my rest.

Leave off, I say, you mad me with the noise.

[Enter Hodge and the two Men.]

HODGE.

Why, how now, Master Thomas, how now?  Will

you not let us work for you?

CROMWELL.

You fret my heart, with making of this noise.

HODGE.

How, fret your heart?  Aye, but Thomas, you'll fret

your father's purse if you let us from working.

SECOND SMITH.

Aye, this tis for him to make him a gentleman.  Shall

we leave work for your musing? that's well, I faith;

But here comes my old master now.

[Enter Old Cromwell.]

OLD CROMWELL.

You idle knaves, what, are you loitering now?

No hammers walking and my work to do!

What, not a heat among your work to day?

HODGE.

Marry, sir, your son Thomas will not let us work at all.

OLD CROMWELL.

Why, knave, I say, have I thus carked & car'd

And all to keep thee like a gentleman;

And dost thou let my servants at their work,

That sweat for thee, knave, labour thus for thee?

CROMWELL.

Father, their hammers do offend my study.

OLD CROMWELL.

Out of my doors, knave, if thou likest it not.

I cry you mercy! is your ears so fine?

I tell thee, knave, these get when I do sleep;

I will not have my Anvil stand for thee.

CROMWELL.

There's money, father, I will pay your men.

[He throws money among them.]

OLD CROMWELL.

Have I thus brought thee up unto my cost,

In hope that one day thou wouldst relieve my age,

And art thou now so lavish of thy coin,

To scatter it among these idle knaves.

CROMWELL.

Father, be patient, and content your self.

The time will come I shall hold gold as trash:

And here I speak with a presaging soul,

To build a palace where now this cottage stands,

As fine as is King Henry's house at Sheene.

OLD CROMWELL.

You build a house! you knave, you'll be a beggar.

Now, afore God, all is but cast away,

That is bestowed upon this thriftless lad.

Well, had I bound him to some honest trade,

This had not been, but it was his mother's doing,

To send him to the University.

How? build a house where now this cottage stands,

As fair as that at Sheene!--[Aside.]  He shall not hear me.

A good boy Tom!  I con thee thank Tom!

Well said Tom! gramarcies Tom!--

Into your work, knaves; hence, you saucy boy.

[Exit all but young Cromwell.]

CROMWELL.

Why should my birth keep down my mounting spirit?

Are not all creatures subject unto time:

To time, who doth abuse the world,

And fills it full of hodge-podge bastardy?

There's legions now of beggars on the earth,

That their original did spring from Kings:

And many Monarchs now whose fathers were

The riffe-raffe of their age:  for Time and Fortune

Wears out a noble train to beggary,

And from the hunghill minions do advance

To state and mark in this admiring world.

This is but course, which in the name of Fate

Is seen as often as it whirls about:

The River Thames, that by our door doth pass,

His first beginning is but small and shallow:

Yet keeping on his course, grows to a sea.

And likewise Wolsey, the wonder of our age,

His birth as mean as mine, a Butcher's son,

Now who within this land a greater man?

Then, Cromwell, cheer thee up, and tell thy soul,

That thou maist live to flourish and control.

[Enter Old Cromwell.]

OLD CROMWELL.

Tom Cromwell! what, Tom, I say!

CROMWELL.

Do you call, sir.

OLD CROMWELL.

Here is master Bowser come to know if you have

dispatched his petition for the Lords of the counsel

or no.

CROMWELL.

Father, I have; please you to call him in.

OLD CROMWELL.

That's well said, Tom; a good lad, Tom.

[Enter Master Bowser.]

BOWSER.

Now, Master Cromwell, have you dispatched

this petition?

CROMWELL.

I have, sir; here it is:  please you peruse it.

BOWSER.

It shall not need; we'll read it as we go by water:

And, Master Cromwell, I have made a motion

May do you good, and if you like of it.

Our Secretary at Antwerp, sir, is dead,

And the Merchants there hath sent to me,

For to provide a man fit for the place:

Now I do know none fitter than your self,

If with your liking it stand, master Cromwell.

CROMWELL.

With all my heart, sir, and I much am bound,

In love and duty for your kindness shown.

OLD CROMWELL.

Body of me, Tom, make haste, least some body

get between thee and home, Tom.  I thank you,

good master Bowser, I thank you for my boy; I

thank you always, I thank you most heartily, sir.

Ho, a cup of Beer there for master Bowser.

BOWSER.

It shall not need, sir.  Master Cromwell, will you go?

CROMWELL.

I will attend you, sir.

OLD CROMWELL.

Farewell, Tom; God bless thee, Tom; God speed

thee, good Tom.

[Exit omnes.]

ACT I. SCENE III. London.  A street before

Frescobald's house.

[Enter Bagot, a Broker, solus.]

BAGOT.

I hope this day is fatal unto some,

And by their loss must Bagot seek to gain.

This is the lodging of master Friskiball,

A liberal Merchant, and a Florentine,

To whom Banister owes a thousand pound,

A Merchant Banckrout, whose Father was my master.

What do I care for pity or regard?

He once was wealthy, but he now is fallen,

And this morning have I got him arrested,

At the suit of master Friskiball,

And by this means shall I be sure of coin,

For doing this same good to him unknown:

And in good time, see where the merchant comes.

[Enter Friskiball.]

BAGOT.

Good morrow to kind master Friskiball.

FRISKIBALL.

Good morrow to your self, good master Bagot,

And what's the news, you are so early stirring:

It is for gain, I make no doubt of that.

BAGOT.

It is for the love, sir, that I bear to you.

When did you see your debtor Banister?

FRISKIBALL.

I promise you, I have not seen the man

This two months day; his poverty is such,