KING HENRY THE EIGHTHKING HENRY THEEIGHTHWilliam Shakespeare16111- Page 2-KING HENRY THE EIGHTHDRAMATIS PERSONAEKING HENRY THE EIGHTH CARDINAL WOLSEY CARDINALCAMPEIUS CAPUCIUS, Ambassador from the Emperor Charles VCRANMER, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY DUKE OF NORFOLKDUKE OF BUCKINGHAM DUKE OF SUFFOLK EARL OF SURREYLORD CHAMBERLAIN LORD CHANCELLOR GARDINER, BISHOP...　

　　ACKNOWLEDGMENTS　A debt of gratitude to Emily Bestler, Jason Kaufman, Ben Kaplan, and everyone at Pocket Books for their belief in this project.　To my friend and agent, Jake Elwell, for his enthusiasm and unflagging effort.　To the legendary George Wieser, for convincing me to write novels.　To my dear friend Irv Sittler, for facilitating my audience with the Pope, secreting me into parts of Vatican City few ever see, and making my time in Rome unforgettable.　To one of the most ingenious and gifted artists alive, John Langdon, who rose brilliantly to my impossible challenge and created the amb　

　1　 With a gentle sigh the service tube dropped a message capsule into the receiving cup. The attention bell chimed once and was silent. Jason dinAlt stared at the harmless capsule as though it were a ticking bomb.　 Something was going wrong. He felt a hard knot of tension form inside of him. This was no routine service memo or hotel munication, but a sealed personal message. Yet he knew no one on this planet, having arrived by spacer less than eight hours earlier. Since even his name was new-dating back to the last time he had changed ships- there could be no personal messages. Yet here one 　

The Red House Mysteryby A.A. Milne1The Red House MysteryTO JOHN VINE MILNE MY DEAR FATHER,Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective stories,and feel that there are not enough of them. So, after all that you havedone for me, the least that I can do for you is to write you one. Here itis: with more gratitude and affection than I can well put down here.A.A.M.2The Red House MysteryCHAPTER IMrs. Stevens is FrightenedIn the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House wastaking its siesta. There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders,...　

IS SHAKESPEARE DEAD?(from My Autobiography)Scattered here and there through the stacks of unpublishedmanuscript which constitute this formidable Autobiography andDiary of mine, certain chapters will in some distant future befound which deal with "Claimants"claimants historicallynotorious: Satan, Claimant; the Golden Calf, Claimant; theVeiled Prophet of Khorassan, Claimant; Louis XVII., Claimant;William Shakespeare, Claimant; Arthur Orton, Claimant; Mary BakerG. Eddy, Claimantand the rest of them. Eminent Claimants,successful Claimants, defeated Claimants, royal Claimants, pleb...　

THE SKETCH BOOKWESTMINSTER ABBEYby Washington IrvingWhen I behold, with deep astonishment,To famous Westminster how there resorteLiving in brasse or stoney monument,The princes and the worthies of all sorte;Doe not I see reformde nobilitie,Without contempt, or pride, or ostentation,And looke upon offenselesse majesty,Naked of pomp or earthly domination?And how a play-game of a painted stone...　

Warlord of Marsby Edgar Rice BurroughsCONTENTSOn the River IssUnder the MountainsThe Temple of the SunThe Secret TowerOn the Kaolian RoadA Hero in KaolNew AlliesThrough the Carrion CavesWith the Yellow MenIn DuranceThe Pity of Plenty"Follow the Rope!"The Magnet SwitchThe Tide of BattleRewardsThe New RulerTHE WARLORD OF MARSON THE RIVER ISSIn the shadows of the forest that flanks the crimson plain by...　

ARIZONA NIGHTSARIZONA NIGHTSby STEWART EDWARD WHITE1- Page 2-ARIZONA NIGHTSCHAPTER ONE THE OLEVIRGINIAThe ring around the sun had thickened all day long, and the turquoiseblue of the Arizona sky had filmed. Storms in the dry countries areinfrequent, but heavy; and this surely meant storm.We had ridden since sun-up over broad mesas, down and out of deep...　

　　While Europe was a collection of warring tribes and Rome merely another city-state on the Tiber and the people of Israel shepherds in the Judean hills, a little girl could carry a sack of diamonds across the Loni Empire in East Africa and never fear even one being taken from her. If she suffered an injured eye, here alone in all the world were men who could repair it. In any village she could receive a parchment for her jewels, take it to any other village, then collect gems of exactly identical weight and purity. Waters from the great Busati River were stored in artificial lakes and channe　

　　By P. G. Wodehouse　　1　In a day in June, at the hour when London moves abroad in quest of lunch, a young man stood at the entrance of the Bandolero Restaurant looking earnestly up Shaftesbury Avenuea large young man in excellent condition, with a pleasant, good-humoured, brown, clean-cut face. He paid no attention to the stream of humanity that flowed past him. His mouth was set and his eyes wore a serious, almost a wistful expression. He was frowning slightly. One would have said that here was a man with a secret sorrow.　William FitzWilliam Delamere Chalmers, Lord Dawlish, had no secret sor　

　Our specific charge in this unofficial mission has been to search the uninhabited worlds to find another source of the precious spice melange, upon which so much of the Imperium depends. We have documented the journeys of many of our Navigators and Steersmen, searching hundreds of planets. To date, however, we have had no success. The only source of melange in the Known Universe remains the desert world of Arrakis. The Guild, CHOAM, and all other dependents must continue in thrall of the Harkonnen monopoly.　However, the value of exploring outlying territories for new planetary systems and ne　

　　Book One　　Chapter 01　　Behind every great fortune there is a crime.　BALZAC　Amerigo Bonasera sat in New York Criminal Court Number 3 and waited for justice; vengeance on the men who had so cruelly hurt his daughter, who had tried to dishonor her.　　The judge, a formidably heavy-featured man, rolled up the sleeves of his black robe as if to physically chastise the two young men standing before the bench. His face was cold with majestic contempt. But there was something false in all this that Amerigo Bonasera sensed but did not yet understand.　　"You acted like the worst kind of degenerates," the　

The Old Masters: how well they understoodIts human position; how it takes placeWhile someone else is eating or opening a window orMt walking dully along ...W. H. AUDEN, "Musee des Beaux Arts"Old Blue died and he died so hard He shook the ground in my back yard. I dug his grave with a silver spade And I lowered him down with a golden chain. Every link you know I did call his name, I called, "Here, Blue, you good dog, you.FOLK SONG"Nope, nothing wrong here.THE SHARP CEREAL PROFESSORONCE UPON A TIME, not so long ago, a monster came to the small town of Castle Rock, Maine. He killed. a waitress n　

KINGDREAMCATCHERHodder & StoughtonGrateful acknowledgement is made for permission to reprint excerpts from the followingcopyrighted material:"Dying Man" (c) 1956 bv Atlantic Monthly Co. The Waking (c) 1953 by Theodore Roethke from Collected Poems of Theodore Roethke bv Theodore Roethke, used by permission of Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc."Scooby Doo Where Are You" by David Mook and Ben Raleigh (c) 1969 (renewed) Monk Bros. West & Ben Raleigh Music Co. All rights reserved o/b/o Mook Bros. West in the United States, administered by Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp. All rights o/b/　

　　December 29th:　A lone figure, hunched down against the howling winter wind, moved step by frozen step through the Colorado wilderness. He was ill clad for such a winter trek, wearing soft thin boots and a clinging mauve with-sparkles tunic. His only defenses against the cold were an engineer cap on his platinum-blond thin hair and a scarf made of an old piece of furniture fabric wrapped several times around his thin pale neck.　The wanderer was nearly frozen to death, his cracked and bleeding gloveless hands shoved into small pockets lined with tissue paper. His pale face, buried in the fabr　

　　D 0 R T M U N D E R, wearing black and carrying his canvas bag of burglar tools, walked across the rooftops from the parking garage on the corner. At the sixth roof, he looked over the front edge to be absolutely sure he was on the right building, and felt dizzy for just a second when he saw the distant street six stories down, floating like a ship in the glare of streetlights. Cars were parked along both sides, leaving one black lane open in the middle. A cab was going by down there, its yellow top glinting in the light. Behind the cab came a slow-moving police car; the unlit flasher dome