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    The Merry Devill of Edmonton
    The Merry Devill of Edmonton
    The Merry Devill of Edmonton
    Ebook111 pages54 minutes

    The Merry Devill of Edmonton

    By Shakespeare (spurious and doubtful works)

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    The Merry Devill of Edmonton

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      The Merry Devill of Edmonton - Shakespeare (spurious and doubtful works)

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Merry Devil, by William Shakespeare (#53 in our series by William Shakespeare)

      Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.

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      **Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

      **eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

      *****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****

      Title: The Merry Devil

      Author: William Shakespeare

      Release Date: December, 2003 [EBook #4774] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on March 16, 2002]

      Edition: 10

      Language: English

      *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE MERRY DEVIL ***

      This eBook was produced by Tony Adam.

      THE MERRY DEVILL OF EDMONTON

      (DRAMATIS PERSONAE.)

      Sir Arthur Clare.

      Sir Richard Mounchensey.

      Sir Ralph Jerningham.

      Henry Clare.

      Raymond Mounchensey.

      Frank Jerningham.

      Sir John [a Priest].

      Banks [the Miller of Waltham].

      Smug [the Smith of Edmonton].

      Bilbo.

      [Blague the] Host.

      Brian.

      [Raph, Brian's man.]

      [Friar Hildersham.]

      [Benedick.]

      [Chamberlaine.]

      [Coreb, a Spirit.]

      Fabel [the Merry Devil].

      Lady Clare.

      Millisent.

      Abbess.

      Sexton.

      Nuns and Attendants.

      The Prologue.

      Your silence and attention, worthy friends,

      That your free spirits may with more pleasing sense

      Relish the life of this our active scene:

      To which intent, to calm this murmuring breath,

      We ring this round with our invoking spells;

      If that your listning ears be yet prepard

      To entertain the subject of our play,

      Lend us your patience.

      Tis Peter Fabell, a renowned Scholler,

      Whose fame hath still been hitherto forgot

      By all the writers of this latter age.

      In Middle-sex his birth and his abode,

      Not full seven mile from this great famous City,

      That, for his fame in sleights and magicke won,

      Was calde the merry Friend of Emonton.

      If any here make doubt of such a name,

      In Edmonton yet fresh unto this day,

      Fixt in the wall of that old antient Church,

      His monument remayneth to be seen;

      His memory yet in the mouths of men,

      That whilst he lived he could deceive the Devill.

      Imagine now that whilst he is retirde

      From Cambridge back unto his native home,

      Suppose the silent, sable visagde night

      Casts her black curtain over all the World;

      And whilst he sleeps within his silent bed,

      Toiled with the studies of the passed day,

      The very time and hour wherein that spirit

      That many years attended his command,

      And often times twixt Cambridge and that town

      Had in a minute borne him through the air,

      By composition twixt the fiend and him,

      Comes now to claim the Scholler for his due.

      [Draw the Curtains.]

      Behold him here, laid on his restless couch,

      His fatal chime prepared at his head,

      His chamber guarded with these sable slights,

      And by him stands that Necromanticke chair,

      In which he makes his direfull invocations,

      And binds the fiends that shall obey his will.

      Sit with a pleased eye, until you know

      The Commicke end of our sad Tragique show.

      [Exit.]

      INDUCTION.

      [The Chime goes, in which time Fabell is oft seen to stare about him, and hold up his hands.]

      FABELL.

      What means the tolling of this fatal chime?

      O, what a trembling horror strikes my heart!

      My stiffned hair stands upright on my head,

      As do the bristles of a porcupine.

      [Enter Coreb, a Spirit.]

      COREB.

      Fabell, awake, or I will bear thee hence

      Headlong to hell.

      FABELL.

      Ha, ha,

      Why dost thou wake me? Coreb, is it thou?

      COREB.

      Tis I.

      FABELL.

      I know thee well: I hear the watchful dogs

      With hollow howling tell of thy approach;

      The lights burn dim, affrighted with thy presence;

      And this distemperd and tempestuous night

      Tells me the air is troubled with some Devill.

      COREB.

      Come, art thou ready?

      FABELL.

      Whither? or to what?

      COREB.

      Why, Scholler, this the hour my date expires;

      I must depart, and come to claim my due.

      FABELL.

      Hah, what is thy due?

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