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desmondsprettyface:
prokopetz:
prokopetz:
I know the loss of historically significant buildings is a tragedy for posterity and such, but when I think about the fact that the original Globe Theatre isn’t around anymore because Shakespeare accidentally burned it to the ground during a performance of Henry VIII while attempting to use a black-powder cannon as a special effect, all I can say is that this is how it was meant to be.
(The building was fortunately evacuated in good order, and the only known injury was incurred by a man whose unusually flammable trousers were set ablaze by falling embers; having declined to abandon his beer during the evacuation, he successfully doused the flames with it and came away with only minor burns, which is basically the most Shakespearean thing ever.)
Sir Henry Wotton provides a particularly excellent eye witness account of Ol’ Broyled Breeches in a letter dated 2 July 1613:
“Now King Henry making a Masque at the Cardinal Wolsey’s house, and certain cannons being shot off at his entry, some of the paper or other stuff, wherewith one of them was stopped, did light on the thatch, where being thought at first but idle smoak, and their eyes more attentive to the show, it kindled inwardly, and ran round like a train, consuming within less than an hour the whole house to the very ground. This was the fatal period of that virtuous fabrick, wherein yet nothing did perish but wood and straw, and a few forsaken cloaks; only one man had his breeches set on fire, that would perhaps have broyled him, if he had not by the benefit of a provident wit, put it out with a bottle of ale.”
Tag yourself, I’m the few forsaken cloaks.
desmondsprettyface:
prokopetz:
prokopetz:
I know the loss of historically significant buildings is a tragedy for posterity and such, but when I think about the fact that the original Globe Theatre isn’t around anymore because Shakespeare accidentally burned it to the ground during a performance of Henry VIII while attempting to use a black-powder cannon as a special effect, all I can say is that this is how it was meant to be.
(The building was fortunately evacuated in good order, and the only known injury was incurred by a man whose unusually flammable trousers were set ablaze by falling embers; having declined to abandon his beer during the evacuation, he successfully doused the flames with it and came away with only minor burns, which is basically the most Shakespearean thing ever.)
Sir Henry Wotton provides a particularly excellent eye witness account of Ol’ Broyled Breeches in a letter dated 2 July 1613:
“Now King Henry making a Masque at the Cardinal Wolsey’s house, and certain cannons being shot off at his entry, some of the paper or other stuff, wherewith one of them was stopped, did light on the thatch, where being thought at first but idle smoak, and their eyes more attentive to the show, it kindled inwardly, and ran round like a train, consuming within less than an hour the whole house to the very ground. This was the fatal period of that virtuous fabrick, wherein yet nothing did perish but wood and straw, and a few forsaken cloaks; only one man had his breeches set on fire, that would perhaps have broyled him, if he had not by the benefit of a provident wit, put it out with a bottle of ale.”
Tag yourself, I’m the few forsaken cloaks.