https://mingcaldtikoscio.gq/childrens-literary-criticism-and-collections/ Second Watchman What, will he not to bed? First Watchman Why, no; for he hath made a solemn vow Never to lie and take his natural rest Till Warwick or himself be quite suppress'd. Second Watchman To-morrow then belike shall be the day, If Warwick be so near as men report. Third Watchman But say, I pray, what nobleman is that That with the king here resteth in his tent? First Watchman 'Tis the Lord Hastings, the king's chiefest friend.
Third Watchman O, is it so? But why commands the king That his chief followers lodge in towns about him, While he himself keeps in the cold field? Second Watchman 'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous.
Third Watchman Ay, but give me worship and quietness; I like it better than a dangerous honour. If Warwick knew in what estate he stands, 'Tis to be doubted he would waken him. First Watchman Unless our halberds did shut up his passage. Second Watchman Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal tent, But to defend his person from night-foes?
And, as I further have to understand, Is new committed to the Bishop of York, Fell Warwick's brother and by that our foe. Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day. And I the rather wean me from despair For love of Edward's offspring in my womb: This is it that makes me bridle passion And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross; Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs, Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown King Edward's fruit, true heir to the English crown.
Guess thou the rest; King Edward's friends must down, But, to prevent the tyrant's violence,-- For trust not him that hath once broken faith,-- I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary, To save at least the heir of Edward's right: There shall I rest secure from force and fraud.
Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly: If Warwick take us we are sure to die. Thus stands the case: I have advertised him by secret means That if about this hour he make his way Under the colour of his usual game, He shall here find his friends with horse and men To set him free from his captivity. Lieutenant Subjects may challenge nothing of their sovereigns; But if an humble prayer may prevail, I then crave pardon of your majesty. Nay, be thou sure I'll well requite thy kindness, For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure; Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds Conceive when after many moody thoughts At last by notes of household harmony They quite forget their loss of liberty.
But, Warwick, after God, thou set'st me free, And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee; He was the author, thou the instrument. Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite By living low, where fortune cannot hurt me, And that the people of this blessed land May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars, Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, I here resign my government to thee, For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.
Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace, For choosing me when Clarence is in place. Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts, That no dissension hinder government: I make you both protectors of this land, While I myself will lead a private life And in devotion spend my latter days, To sin's rebuke and my Creator's praise.
We'll yoke together, like a double shadow To Henry's body, and supply his place; I mean, in bearing weight of government, While he enjoys the honour and his ease. And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a traitor, And all his lands and goods be confiscate. Lays his hand on his head. Well have we pass'd and now repass'd the seas And brought desired help from Burgundy: What then remains, we being thus arrived From Ravenspurgh haven before the gates of York, But that we enter, as into our dukedom?
Brother, I like not this; For many men that stumble at the threshold Are well foretold that danger lurks within. By fair or foul means we must enter in, For hither will our friends repair to us. Enter, on the walls, the Mayor of York, and his Brethren. Edward from Belgia, With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders, Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas, And with his troops doth march amain to London; And many giddy people flock to him. Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, Northampton and in Leicestershire, shalt find Men well inclined to hear what thou command'st: And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved, In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends.
My sovereign, with the loving citizens, Like to his island girt in with the ocean, Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs, Shall rest in London till we come to him. Fair lords, take leave and stand not to reply.
How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow? First Messenger By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward. Where is the post that came from Montague? Second Messenger By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop. Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee, That Warwick's bones may keep thine company. But, in the midst of this bright-shining day, I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud, That will encounter with our glorious sun, Ere he attain his easeful western bed: I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.
The very beams will dry those vapours up, For every cloud engenders not a storm. If she have time to breathe be well assured Her faction will be full as strong as ours. We, having now the best at Barnet field, Will thither straight, for willingness rids way; And, as we march, our strength will be augmented In every county as we go along. Strike up the drum; cry 'Courage! What though the mast be now blown overboard, The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost, And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood? Yet lives our pilot still.
Is't meet that he Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad With tearful eyes add water to the sea And give more strength to that which hath too much, Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, Which industry and courage might have saved?
Ah, what a shame! Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that? And Montague our topmost; what of him? Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; what of these? Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? And Somerset another goodly mast? Volume 2 31 Aug Previous Page 1 2 Next Page. Provide feedback about this page. Your recently viewed items and featured recommendations. View or edit your browsing history. Unlimited One-Day Delivery and more. There's a problem loading this menu at the moment.
Get to Know Us. Learn more about Amazon Prime. Please try your request again later. David Waine was born in Newcastle upon Tyne, England, in He is the youngest of three brothers, all of whom went on to become teachers like their father.
Almighty God, the fountain of all goodness: Of course, before we zoom into the Walker we see Cersei, or the Mad Queen as she is now known, sitting on the Iron Throne and letting out a deep, icy breath. Retrieved 4 February I think all she ever wanted was to be on the Throne. Prevent us, O Lord, in all our doings with thy most gracious favour, and further us with thy continual help; that in all our works begun, continued, and ended in thee, we may glorify thy holy Name, and finally by thy mercy obtain everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. And will you preserve unto the Bishops and Clergy of England, and to the Churches there committed to their charge, all such rights and privileges, as by law do or shall appertain to them or any of them?
It was during his teaching career that he developed an interest in writing, initially plays, and his adaptation of Shakespeare's 'Macbeth' was performed at the Cockpit Theatre the forerunner of Shakespeare's Globe as part of the Globe Theatre restoration in He took up novel writing after leaving the profession, and his first published work, 'The Planning Officers' appeared in Kindle format in His major works include the two epic fantasy trilogies, 'A King's Head' and 'A Queen's Heart' as well as his series of crime thrillers, the 'Rutter Books': He is also the author of a guide for new writers, 'The Author's Manual' and several short stories.
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When it initially died last year, I transferred all my work to my old back-up PC, which had been running Linux for years, only for it to expire at Christmas. That brought into play another PC, that I had bought a couple of years beforehand to mark exams. It was a cheap, refurbished office job with next to nothing in the way of graphics capability.
I bought it to do exam marking, which is Windows only. When I started to use it as my only machine, its limitatio. Just as I thought I had overcome the issues imposed by the untimely demise of my Mac, another one presents itself. To be precise, Libre Office Writer, my replacement word processor. This is not a condemnation of said program. It is free, after all, and more or less as powerful as the anything but free Microsoft Word. It is just that it and I do not get along particularly well. In its favour, it makes a squeaky clean Html file for turning into an eBook which is something Word never did , but it.
The original cover, with which I was never very happy although it was the best I could manage at the time featured multiple crowns. This one, which shows the Dark Lord, Darank, in profile, is altogether more in keeping with the subject matter and ethos of the book.