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    The Locked Chest & The Sweeps of Ninety-Eight: "In this life he laughs longest who laughs last."
    The Locked Chest & The Sweeps of Ninety-Eight: "In this life he laughs longest who laughs last."
    The Locked Chest & The Sweeps of Ninety-Eight: "In this life he laughs longest who laughs last."
    Ebook102 pages48 minutes

    The Locked Chest & The Sweeps of Ninety-Eight: "In this life he laughs longest who laughs last."

    By John Masefield

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    About this ebook

    John Edward Masefield was born in 1878 in the sleepy market town of Ledbury in rural Hertfordshire. An idyllic childhood was ruined when he was left an orphan and sent to live with an Aunt who decided his education and life would be better spent at sea. At age 13 he boarded a school ship and there his love of writing and reading blossomed. By 1899 he began to publish and apart from brief service during World War I he now had a life of writing and lecture tours. He published much; novels, poetry and even an account of the disastrous war effort in the Dardanelles at Gallipoli. Upon the death of Robert Bridges in 1930, Masefield was given the prestigious position of Poet Laureate, a role he would fulfill until his death; the only poet to hold the position for a longer period was Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Despite later ill health and the death of his wife in 1960, Masefield continued to write. In 1966, he published his last book of poems, In Glad Thanksgiving, at the age of 88. In the latter part of 1966 gangrene was diagnosed in his ankle. This gradually spread through his leg and claimed his life on May 12, 1967. He was cremated and his ashes placed in the Poet’s Corner of Westminster Abbey. Here we present The Locked Chest & The Sweeps of Ninety-Eight.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCopyright Group
    Release dateJan 26, 2015
    ISBN9781785431104
    The Locked Chest & The Sweeps of Ninety-Eight: "In this life he laughs longest who laughs last."
    Author

    John Masefield

    John Masefield was a well-known English poet and novelist. After boarding school, Masefield took to a life at sea where he picked up many stories, which influenced his decision to become a writer. Upon returning to England after finding work in New York City, Masefield began publishing his poetry in periodicals, and then eventually in collections. In 1915, Masefield joined the Allied forces in France and served in a British army hospital there, despite being old enough to be exempt from military service. After a brief service, Masefield returned to Britain and was sent overseas to the United States to research the American opinion on the war. This trip encouraged him to write his book Gallipoli, which dealt with the failed Allied attacks in the Dardanelles, as a means of negating German propaganda in the Americas. Masefield continued to publish throughout his life and was appointed as Poet Laureate in 1930. Masefield died in 1967 the age of 88.

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      Book preview

      The Locked Chest & The Sweeps of Ninety-Eight - John Masefield

      The Locked Chest & The Sweeps of Ninety-Eight by John Masefield

      TWO ONE ACT PLAYS

      John Edward Masefield was born in 1878 in the sleepy market town of Ledbury in rural Hertfordshire.

      An idyllic childhood was ruined when he was left an orphan and sent to live with an Aunt who decided his education and life would be better spent at sea.  At age 13 he boarded a school ship and there his love of writing and reading blossomed. 

      By 1899 he began to publish and apart from brief service during World War I he now had a life of writing and lecture tours.  He published much; novels, poetry and even an account of the disastrous war effort in the Dardanelles at Gallipoli.

      Upon the death of Robert Bridges in 1930, Masefield was given the prestigious position of Poet Laureate, a role he would fulfill until his death; the only poet to hold the position for a longer period was Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

      Despite later ill health and the death of his wife in 1960, Masefield continued to write. In 1966, he published his last book of poems, In Glad Thanksgiving, at the age of 88.

      In the latter part of 1966 gangrene was diagnosed in his ankle. This gradually spread through his leg and claimed his life on May 12, 1967. He was cremated and his ashes placed in the Poet’s Corner of Westminster Abbey.

      Index of Contents

      THE LOCKED CHEST

      PERSONS

      SCENE

      THE SWEEPS OF NINETY-EIGHT

      PERSONS

      SCENE

      JOHN MASEFIELD – A SHORT BIOGRAPHY

      JOHN MASEFIELD – A CONCISE BIBLIOGRAPHY

      THE LOCKED CHEST

      A Play in One Act

      (From a Tale in the Laxdaelasaga)

      PERSONS

      THORD GODDI

      THOROLF

      INGIALD

      SOLDIERS

      VIGDIS GODDI

      SCENE

      A room. A chest used as a bench.

      A table, etc. VIGDIS embroidering a cloth.

      VIGDIS.

      [Singing.]

      My love is drowned in the Lowlands,

      Away. Heigho.

      My love is drowned in the Lowlands,

      Lowlands no more.

      [Enter THORD GODDI]

      Well, Thord. I hope you had a good market.

      [Sings.]

      His hair is cold with the seaweed,

      Away. Heigho.

      His hair is cold with the seaweed,

      Lowlands no more.

      Come and sit down by the fire, won't you?

      [Sings..]

      O my love is drowned in the Lowlands,

      Away

      THORD.

      For heaven's sake, stop it.

      VIGDIS.

      Stop what?

      THORD.

      That caterwauling.

      VIGDIS.

      Caterwauling?

      THORD.

      I'm not going to have that howling when

      I've got a headache

      VIGDIS.

      I'm sorry I sang when you had a head-

      ache. I didn't know.

      THORD.

      I've always got a headache.

      VIGDIS.

      I'm sorry, Thord.

      THORD.

      O, don't " sorry' me. If you're so sorry

      as all that there'd have been a nice supper

      ready. But there. It's always the way.

      VIGDIS.

      Let me get you your supper.

      THORD.

      O, I don't want it now, thanks, I couldn't

      eat it. Why wasn't it ready for me, the

      moment I came in?

      VIGDIS.

      But, Thord. My dear man.

      THORD.

      How many more times am I to tell you

      I won't be "my deared' when I've a

      headache?

      VIGDIS.

      I'm sorry, Thord.

      THORD.

      If you knew how much it aggravated.

      But there. You only do it to drive me mad.

      VIGDIS.

      I don't, Thord.

      THORD.

      Contradict me. Do. That's right.

      Contradict me. I suppose you'll say

      next - But there, it's always the way.

      VIGDIS.

      Thord!

      THORD.

      Now, why wasn't supper ready the

      moment I came in?

      VIGDIS.

      You said you'd be home late, Thord, and

      that supper wasn't to be till half-past seven.

      THORD.

      You might have known the fair would be

      a bad one.

      VIGDIS.

      Was the fair a bad one?

      THORD.

      O, use your sense. Use your sense, woman.

      VIGDIS.

      But I do, Thord.

      THORD.

      Would I be here at this time if the fair

      had been a good one? You know perfectly

      well I shouldn't.

      VIGDIS.

      I'm so

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