P

The troublesome Raigne of
King JOHN.

Enter K. John, Queene Elinor his mother, William Mar-
shall Earle of Pembrooke, the Earles of Effex, and of
Salisburie.

Queene Elinor.

B Arons of England, and my noble Lords;
Though God and Fortune hath bereft from vs
Victorious Richard, the courge of Infidels,
And clad this Land in stole of dismall hew :
Yet giue me leaue to ioy, and ioy you all.
That from this wombe hath sprung a second hope,
A King that may in rule and vertue both
Succeede his brother in his Emperie.

K. Ioh. My gracious mother Queene, and Barons all;
Though farre vnworthy of so high a place,
As is the Throne of mighty Englands King;
Yet Ioh, your Lord, contented vncontent,
Will (as he may) faustaine the heavy yoke
Of preffing cares, that hang vpon a Crowne.
My Lord of Pembrooke, and Lord Salisbury,
Admit the Lord Chattillion to our prefence;
That we may know what Philip King of France
(Bv his Ambassadors) requires of vs.

Q. Elinor. Dare lay my hand that Elinor can geffe
Where to this weighty Embaffade doth tend:
If of my nephew Arthur and his claime,
Then lay, my Sonne, I haue not miff'd my arme.
Enter Chattillion and the two Earles.

A 2

John

P

The troublesome Raigne

John. My Lord Chattilion, welcome into England :
How fares our brother Philip King of France ?

Chat. His Highneſſe at my comming was in health,
And will I me to ſalute your Maieſtie,
And ſay the meſſage he hath giuen in charge.

John. And spare not man, we are prepared to heare.

Chat. Philip, by the grace of God moſt Chriſtian King of France, hauing taken into his guardain & protection An now D. of Britaine ſonne and heire to Jeffery thine elder brother, requireth in the behalſe of the ſaide Arthur, the Kingdome of England, with the Lordſhip of Ireland, Poiters, Anion, Toraine, Maine: and I attend thine anſwer.

John. A ſmall requeſt: belike he makes account,
That England, Ireland, Poiters, Anion, Toraine, Maine,
Are nothing for a King to giue at once:

I wonder what he meanes to leane for me.

Tell Philip, he may keepe his Lords at home,
With greater honour than to ſend them thus.
On Embaſſades that not concerne himſelfe,
Or if they did, would yeeld but ſmall returne.

Chat. Is this thine anſwer ?

Ioh. It is, & too good an anſwer for so proud a meſſage.

Chat. Then King of England, in my Maſters name,
And in Prince Arthur Duke of Brittaines name,
I doe defie thee as an enemie,

And with thee to prepare for bloody warres.

Q. Elianor. My Lord (that stands vpon defiance thus)
Combiend me to my nephew, tell the boy,
That I Quene Elianor (his grandmother)
Vpon my bleſſing charge him leaue his Armes,

Whereunto his head strong mother prickes him ſo,
Her pride we know, and know her for a Dame
That will not ſticke to bring him to his end,
So he may bring her ſelbe to rule a realme.

Next, with him to forſake the King of France.

- And come to me and to his Vncle here,
And he ſhall want for nothing at our hands.

Chab.

of King Ioh.

Chat. Thus ſhall I doe, and thus I take my leaue.

Ioh. Pembrooke, conuey him safely to the Sea,
But not in haſt: for as we are aduide,
We meane to be in France as ſoon as he,
To fortifie ſuch townes as we poſſeſſe
In Anion, Toraine, and in Normandie.

Exit Chatt.

Enter the Shriue and whispers the Earle of Salis, in the ear.

Salis. Pleaſe it your Maieſtyle, here is the ſhriue of North-
hampton-shire, with certaine perſons that of late commit-
ted a riot, & haue apeald to your Maieſtyle, beſeeching your
Highneſſe for ſpeciall cauſe to heare them.

Ioh. Will them come neere, & while we heare the cauſe,
Goe Salisbury and make prouſion,
We meane with ſpeed to paffe the Sea to France.

Say ſhriue, what are theſe men, what haue they done?

Or whereto tends the courſe of this appeale ?

Shriue. Pleaſe it your Maieſtyle, theſe two brethren vnna-
turally, falling at odds about their fathers liuing haue bro-
ken your Highneſſe peace, in ſeking to right their owne
wrongs without courſe of Law, or order of Iuſtice, and vn-
lawfully asſembled themſelues in mutinous maner, hauing
committed a riot, appealing from triall in their country to
your Highnes: and here I Thomas Nidigate ſhriue of Nor-
thamptonshire doe deliuer them ouer to their triall.

Ioh. My Lord of Eſſex, will th'offenders to ſland forth,
and tell the cauſe of their quarrell.

Eſſex. Gentlemen, it is the Kings pleaſure that you dif-
cour your griefe, and doubt not but you ſhall haue Iuſtice.

Phil. Pleaſe it your M. the wrong is mine: yet will I a-
bide all wrongs, before I once open my mouth to vrip the
ſhamefull ſlander of my parents, the diſhonour of my ſelſe, &
the bad dealing of my brother in this Princely asſembly.

Rob. Then, by my Prince his leaue, ſhall Robert ſpeake,
And tell your Maieſtyle what right I hane
To offer wrong, as he accounteth wrong.

My father (not vnknowne vnto your Grace)

Receiued his ſpurres of Knighthood in the field,

A 3

At.

P

The troublesome Raigne

At kingly Richards hands in Palestine,
When as the walls of Acon gaue him way:
His name Sir Robert Fauconbridge of Mounbery.
What by succession from his Ancestors,
And warlike feruice vnder Englands Armes,
His liuing did amount to at his death
Two thousand marks reuenew euery yeare:
And this (my Lord) I challenge for my right,
As lawfull heire to Robert Fauconbridge.
Phil. If first-borne sonne be heire indubitate

By certaine right of Englands auncient Law,
How should my selfe make any other doubt,
But I am heire to Robert Fauconbridge ?

Ioh. Fond youth, to trouble these our Princely eares,
Or make a question in so plaine a cafe :
Speake, is this man thine elder brother borne ?

Robert. Please it your Grace with patience for to heare,
I not deny but he mine elder is,
Mine elder brother too : yet in such sort,
As he can make no title to the land.

Ioh. A doubtfull tale as euer I did heare,
Thy brother, and thine elder, and no heire :
Explaine his darke Enigma.

Rob. I grant (my Lord) he is my mothers sonne,
Bafe borne, and bafe begot, no Fauconbridge.
Indeed the world reputes him law full heire,
My father in his life did count him so,
And heere my mother stands to proue him so :
But 1 (my Lord) can proue, and doe auerre
Both to my mothers shame, and his reproach,
He is no heire, nor yet legitimate.
Then (gratious Lord) let Fauconbridge enioy
The liuing that belongs to Fauconbridge.
An I let not him poſſeſſe anothers right.

Ioh. Prooue this, the land is thine by Englands lawe.
Q. Eliu. Vngratious youth, to rip thy mothers ſhame,
The wombe from whence thou didſt thy being take,

All

of King Iohn.

All honest eares abhorre thy wickedneſſe,
But gold I fee doth beate downe Natures law.

Moth. My gratious Lord, and you thrice reverend
That fee the teares diffilling from mine eies,
And ſcalding ſighes blowne from a rented heart :
For honour and regard of womanhood,
Let me entreate to be commaunded hence.
Let not these eares heere receine the hifting found
Of ſuch a viper, who with poyſoned words
Doth mafferate the bowels of my ſoule.

Ioh. Lady, I stand vp, be patient for a while :
And fellow, lay, whose baſtard is thy brother ?

Phil. Not for my ſelfe, nor for my mother now :
But for the honour of so braue a man.
Whom he accuſeth with adulterie :
Here I beſeech your Grace vpon my knees,
To count him mad, and so diſmiffes vs hence.

Rob. Nor mad, nor maz'd, but well aduised, I
Charge thee before this royall prefence here
To be a baſtard to King Richards ſelfe,
Sonne to your Grace, and brother to your Maiestie.
Thus bluntly, and

Eliu. Young-man, thou needſt not be affhamed of thy
Nor of thy Sire. But forward with thy proofe. (kin,

Rob. The proofe so plaine, the argument so ſtrong,
As that your Highneſſe and these noble Lords,
And all ſaue that haue no eyes to ſee)
Shall ſweare him to be baſtard to the King.
First, when my Father was Enbaffadour
In Germanie vnto the Emperour,
The King lay often at my Fathers houſe :
And all the Realme ſuſpected what befell :
And at my Fathers backe returne agen
My Mother was deliuered, as tis ſed,
Sixe weeks before the account my Father made.
But more then this: looke but on Philips face,
His features, actions, and his lineaments,

And

P

The troublesome Raigne

And all this princely preſence ſhall confefſe,
He is no other but King *Richards* ſonne.

Then gratious Lords, reſt he King *Richards* ſonnes,
And let me reſſaſe in my fathers right,
That am his rightfull ſonne and onely heire.

*Ioh.* Is this thy proofe, and all thou haſt to ſay ?

*Rob.* I haue no more, nor neede I greater proofe.

*Ioh.* First, where thou faſſt in abſence of thy Sire
My brother often lodged in his houſe :
And what of that ? bafe groome to ſlander him,
That honoured his Embaſſador ſo much,
In abſence of the man to cheere the wife ?

This will not hold, proceed vnto the next.

*Q. Elin.* Thou faſſ the teem'd ſix weeks before her time,
Why good Sir Squire, are you ſo cunning growen,

To make account of womens reckonings ?

Spit in your hand, and to your other proofes :

Many miſchances happen in ſuch affaires,

To make a woman come before her time.

*Ioh.* And where thou faſſ, he looketh like the King,
In action, feature, and proportion :
Therein I hold with thee, for in my life
I neuer ſaw ſo liuely counterſet

Of *Richard* Cordelion, as in him.

*Robert.* Then good my Lord, be you indifferent Iudge,
And let me haue my liuing and my right.

*Q. Elin.* Nay, heare you fir, you runne away too faſt:
Know you not, *Omne ſimile non eſt idem* ?

Or hane read in. Harke yee good Sir,
T was thus I warrant, and no other wifc,

Shee lay with Sir *Robert* your father, and thought vpon
King *Richard* my ſonne, and ſo your brother was formed
in this ſaſhion.

*Robert.* Madame, you wrong me thus to ieſt it out,
I craue my right: King *John*, as thou art King,

So be thou iuſt, and let me haue my right.

*Ioh.* Why (foolſh boy) thy proofes are friuolous,

Nor

of King John.

Nor canſt thou chalenge any thing thereby.

But thou ſhal ſee how I will helpe thy claims :
This is my doome, and this my doome ſhall ſtand
Irreuocable, as I am King of England.

For thou knowſt not, weele aske of them that know,
His mother and himſelfe ſhall end this ſtrife :

And as they ſay, ſo ſhall thy liuing paſſe.

*Robert.* My Lord, herein I challenge you of wrong,
To giue away my right, and put the doome
Vnto them ſelues. Can there be likelihood
That ſhe will looſe ?

Or he will giue the liuing from himſelfe?

It may not be my Lord. Why ſhould it be ?

*John.* Lords, keep him back. & let him heare the doome.
*Effex*, firſt aske the Mother thrice who was his Sire?

*Effex.* Lady *Margaret*, widow of *Fanconbridge*,
Who was Father to thy Sonne *Philip*?

*Mother.* Pleafe it your Maiety, Sir *Rob*: *Fanconbridge*.

*Rob.* This is right, aske my fellow there if I be a thieſe.

*John.* Aske *Philip* whoſe ſonne he is.

*Effex.* *Philip*, who was thy Father ?

*Philip.* Mas my Lord, and that's a queſtion: and you
had not taken ſome paines with her before, I ſhould haue
dеſired you to aske my Mother.

*John.* Say, who was thy Father?

*Philip.* Faith (my Lord) to anſwere you, ſure he is my
father that was neereſt my mother when I was begotten,
and him I thinke to be Sir *Robert Fauconbridge*.

*John.* *Effex*, for ſaſhions ſake demand againe,
And ſo an end to this contention.

*Robert.* Was euer man thus wrong'd as *Robert* is ?

*Effex.* Philip ſpeake I ſay, who was thy father ?

*John.* Young man how now, what art thou in a trance ?

*Elianor.* Philip awake, the man is in a dreame.

*Philip.* Philippus atanis adite Regibus.

What ſaſt thou *Philip*, ſprng of auncient Kings ?

*Q. to me rapit tempeſt as*?

B

What

P

The troublesome Raigne

What winde of honour blowes this fury forth ?
Or whence proceedes these fumes of Maiestie ?
Me thinkes I heare a hollow Eccho found,
That Philip is the Sonne vnto a King :
The whistling leaues vpon the trembling trees,
Whistle in confort I am Richards Sonne :
The bubling murmur of the waters fall;
Records Philippus Regius fluit :
Birds in their flight make muſicke with their wings,
Filling the aire with glory of my birth :
Birds, bubbles, leaues, and mountaines, Eccho, all
Ring in mine eares, that I am Richards Sonne.
Fond man ! ah whither art thou carried ?
How are thy thoughts y wrapt in Honours Heauen?
Forget full what thou art, and whence thou cam'st.
Thy fathers lands cannot maintaine these thoughts,
Theſe thoughts are farre vnfitting Fauconbridge :
And well they may ; for why this mounting minde
Doth ſoare too high to ſtoupe to Fauconbridge.
Why how now ? knoweſt thou where thou art ?
And knoweſt thou who expeſts thy anſwere here ?
Wilt thou vpon a franticke madding vaine
Goe ſoole thy land, and ſay thy ſelſe bafe borne ?
No keepe thy land, though Richard were thy Sire,
What ere thou thinkſt, ſay thou art Fauconbridge.
John. Speake man, be ſodaine, who thy father was.
Philip. Pleaſe it your Maiestie, Sir Robert,
Philip, that Fauconbridge cleaues to thy iawes :
It will not out, I cannot for my life.
Say I am ſonne vnto a Fauconbridge.
Let land and liuing goe, tis honours fire.
That makes me ſwcare King Richard was my Sire.
Bafe to a King addes titles of more State,
Than Knights begotten, though legitimate.
Please it your Grace, I am King Richards Sonne.
Robert, Robert, reuie thy heart, let ſorrow die,
His faltering tongue not ſuffers him to lie.

of King John.

Mo. What head-ſtrong fury doth enchant my ſonne ?
Phil. Philip cannot repent, for he hath done.
Ioh. Then Philip blame not me, thy ſelſe haſt loſt
By wilfulneſſe, thy liuing and thy land.
Robert, thou art the heire of Fauconbridge,
God giue thee ioy, greater than thy deſert.

Q. Eli. Why how now Philip, giue away thine owne ?
Phil. Madam; I am bold to make my ſelſe your nephew,
The pooreſt kinfman that your Highneſſe hath :
And with this Prouerbe giu the world anew,
Helpe hands, I haue no lands, Honor is my deſire ;
Let Philip liue to ſhow himſelfe worthy ſo great a Sire.

Eli. Philip, I thinke thou knewſt thy Grandam's minde:
But cheere thee boy, I will not see thee want
As long as Elinor hath ſoote of land;
Henceforth thou ſhalt be taken for my ſonne,
And waite on me and on thy Vncle heere,
Who ſhall giue Honour to thy noble minde.

Ioh. Philip kneele downe, that thou maſt throughly
How much thy reſolution plesaeth vs,
(Rnow
Rife vp Sir Richard Plantaginet King Richards Sonne,
Phil. Grant Heauens that Philip once may ſhow him-
Worthy the honour of Plantaginet,
Or bafeſt glory of a Baſtards name.

Ioh. Now Gentlemen, we will away to France,
To checke the pride of Arthur and his mates :
Eſſex, thou ſhalt be Ruler of my Realme,
And toward the maine charges of my warres,
Ile ceaze the laſſe Abbey lubbers lands
Iato my hands to pay my men of warre.
The Pope and Popelings ſhall not greaſe themſelues
With gold and groates, that are the Souldiers due.
Thus forward Lords let our command be done,
And march we forward mightily to France,
Exequi.

Manet Philip and his Mother.

Phil. Madame, I beſeech you, deigne mee ſo much lea-
fure as the hearing of a matter that I long to impart to you

B 2

Mother

P

The troublesome Raigne

*Mother.* What's the matter Philip? I thinke your suit in secret, tends to some money matter, which you oppoze burne in the bottom of my cheft.

*Philip.* No Madam, it is no such suit as to beg or borrow, But such a suit, as might some other grant, I would not now haue troubled you withall.

*Mother.* A God's name let vs heare it.

*Philip.* Then Madam thus, your Ladiship fees well, How that my scandall growes by meanes of you, In that report hath runnord vp and downe, I am a baftard, and no Fanconbridge.

This groſſe attaint so tilteth in my thoughts, Maintaining combat to abridge mine eafe, That field and towne, and company alone, What so I doe, or wherefore I am, I cannot chafe the ſlander from my thoughts.

If it be true, refolue me of my fire, For pardon Madam, if I thinke a miſſe. Be Philip, Philip, and no Fanconbridge, His father doubtleſſe was as braue a man. To you on knees, as sometime Phaeton, Mistrrafting ſilly Merop for his fire, Straining a little bathfull modeſtly, I beg some instance whence I am extraught.

*Moth.* Yet more adoe to haſt me to my graue, And wilt thou too become a mothers croſſe ? Muſt I accuse my ſelfe to cloſe with you ? SlaUNDER my ſelfe, to quiet your effects ? Thon moouſt me Philip with this idle talke, Which I remit, in hope this mood will die.

*Philip.* Nay Lady mother, heare me further yet, For ſtrong conceit diuices dutie hence awhile : { Your husband Fanconbridge was father to that ſonne, That carries markes of Nature like the fire, The ſonne that blotteth you with wedlocke breach, And holds my right; as lineall in deſcent From him whole forme was figured in his face.

Can

of King John.

Can Nature so diſſemble in her frame,
To make the one so like as like may be,
And in the other print no character
To challenge any marke of true deſcent?
My brothers mind is bafe, and too too dull,
To mount where Philip lodgeth his affects,
And his externall graces that you viewe,
(Though I report it) counterpoife not mine:
His conſtitution plaine debulitie,
Requires the chaire, and mine the ſeat of ſteele.
Nay what is he, or what am I to him?
When any one that knoweth how to carpe,
Will ſcarcely iudge vs both one countrey borne.
This Madam, this, hath droue me from my ſelfe :
And here by heauens ernernall lampes I ſweare,
As curſed Nero with his mother did,
So I with you, if you reſolue me not.

*Moth.* Let mothers teares quench out thy angers fire, And vrgre no further what thou doest require.

*Philip.* Let ſonnes iotreaty ſway the mother now,
Or eſſe ſhee dies : Ile not infringe my vow.

*Moth.* Vnhappy taske: muſt I recount my ſhame,
Blab my middeeds, or by concealing die?
Some power ſtrike me ſpeechleſſe for a time,
Or take from him a while his hearing vſe.
Why wifh I ſo, vnhappy as I am?
The fault is mine, and he the faulty fruit,
I bluſh, I faint, oh would I might be mute.

*Philip.* Mother be briefe, I long to know my name,

*Moth.* And longing die, to throud thy mothers ſhame,
Philip. Come Madam come, you neede not be so loath,
The ſhame is shared equall twixt vs both.
Iſt not a ſlackneſſ in me, worthy blame,
To be so old, and cannot write my name.
Good mother reſolue me.

*Moth.* Then Philip heare thy fortune, and my griefe,
My honours loſſe by purchase of thy ſelfe,

B 3

My

P

The troublesome Raigne

My shame, thy name, and husbands secret wrong,
All main'd and ftain'd by youths vnruly fway.

And when thou know'st from whence thou art extraught,
Or if thou knew't what fuites, what threats, what feares,
To moone by lone, or maffacre by death.

To yeeld with lone, or end by lone's contempt.

The mightinesse of him that courted me,
Who tempered terror with his wanton talke,
That something may extenuate the guilt.

But let it not aduantage me so much :

Vpraid me rather with the Romane dame,

That shed her blood to wash away her shame.

Why stand I to expofulate the crime

With pro & contra, now the deed is done ?

When to conclude two words may tell the tale,

That Philips father was a Princes fonne,

Rich Englands rule, worlds onely terror he,

For honours loſſe left me with child of thee :

Wholeſe fonne thou art, then pardon me the rather,

For faire King Richard was thy noble Father.

Phil. Then Robin Fauconbride I wifh thee ioy,

My fire a King, and I a landliffle boy.

Gods lady mother, the world is in my debt,

There's something owing to Plantagines.

I marry Sir, let me alone for game,

He aſt some wonders now I know my name.

By bleſſed Mary He not ſell that pride

For Englands wealth, and all the world beſide.

Sit faſt the proudest of my fathers foes,

Away good mother, there the comfort goes.

Excuse.

Enter Philip the French King, and Lewis, Limoges,
Conſtance, and her ſonne Arthur.

King. Now gin we broach the title of thy claime,

Young Arthur in the Albion territories,

Skacing proud Angiers with a puifiant liege :

Braue

of King Ioh.

Braue Aſtria, cauſe of Cordelions death,

Is come to aide thee in thy warres ;

And all our forces ioyne for Arthur's right,

And, but for cauſes of great conſequence,

Pleading delay till newes from England come,

Twice ſhould not Titan hide him in the West,

To coole the fet-locks of his weary teame,

Till I had with an vrefiſted ſhocke

Controld the mannage of proud Angiers walls,

Or made a forſet of my fame to Chaunce.

Conſt. May be that Ioh in conſcience or in ſcare

To offer wrong where you impungne the ill,

Will ſend ſuch calme conditions backe to France,

As ſhall debate the edge of ſcarefull warres :

If so, forbearance is a deede well done.

Arth. Ah mother, poſſection of a Crowne is much,

And Ioh as I haue heard reported of,

For preſent vantage, would aduenture farre,

The world can wittneſſe, in his brothers time,

He tooke vpon him rule, and almost raigne :

Then muſt it follow as a doubtfull poins,

That hee ſeſigne the rule vnto his Nephew.

I rather thinke the menace of the world

Sounds in his eares, as threatens of no eſteeme,

And ſooner would he corne Europa's power,

Than loose the ſmallest title he enioyes ;

For queſtionleſſe he is an Englishman.

Lewis, Why, are the English peereleſſe in compare ?

Braue Caualiers as ere that Island bred,

Hauë liu'd, and di'd, and da'd, and done enough,

Yet neuer grac'd their countrey for the cauſe:

England is England, yeelding good and bad,

And John of England is as other Johns.

Trauſt me young Arthur, if thou like my reed,

Praife thou the French that helpe thee in this need.

Lymog. The Englishman hath little cauſe I trowe,

To ſpend good ſpeeches on so proud a foe,

Why

P

The troublesome Raigne

Why Arthur here's his spoyle that now is gone,
Who when he liu'd outru'd his brother John :
But hastie curres that lie so long to catch,
Come halting home, and meete their ouer-match,
But newes comes now, here's the Embaffadour.
Enter Chattillion.

K. Phil. And in good time, welcome my Lord Chattillion.

What newes ? will John accord to our command ?
Chat.

Be I not brieſe to tell your Highneſſe all,
He will approach to interrupt my tale :
For one ſelb bottom brought vs both to France.
He on his part will trie the chance of warre,

And if his words inferre affu'red truth,
Will loose him ſelſe, and all his followers,
Ere yeeld vnto the leaſt of your demands.
The Mother Queene ſlie taketh on amaine
Gainſt Lady Conſtance, counting her the cauſe
That doth effect this claime to Albion,
Coniuring Arthur with a Grandames care,
To leaue his Mother; willing him ſubmit
His ſtate to John and her protection,
Who (as ſhese faith) are ſtudious for his good.

More circumstance the ſeason intercepts :
This is the ſumme, which briefly I haue ſhowne.

K. Phil. This bitter wind must nip some bodies spring:
Sodaine and brieſe, why so, tis haruſt weather.

But ſay Chattillion, what perſons of account are with him?
Chat.

Of England, Earle Pembrooke and Salisburie,
The onely noted men of any name.

Next them, a baſtard of the Kings deceaſt,
A hardy wild, head, tough and venturous,
With many other men of high reſoluere.

Then is there with them Elinor Mother Queene,
And Blauch her Neece, daughter to the King of Spaine:
These are the prime birds of this hot aduenture.

Enter John and his ſollowers, Queene, Baſtard, Earles, &c.

K. Phil. Mc ſeemeth John, an ouer-daring ſpirit

Effects

of King John.

Effects some frenſie in thy rafh approach,
Treading my Conſines with thy armed troupe.
I rather lookt for ſome ſubmiſſe reply
Touching the claime thy Nephew Arthur makes
To that which thou vnſiſtly doſt vſurpe.

K. John, For that Chattillion can diſcharge you all,
I lift not pleade my Title with my tongue.

Nor came I hither with intent of wrong
To France, or thee, or any right of thine;
But in defence and purchase of my right,
The towne of Angiers : which thou doſt begirt

In the behalſe of Lady Conſtance ſoune,
Where to nor he, nor ſhe, can lay iuſt claime.

Conſtance, Yes (ſаль intruder) if that iuſt be iuſt,
And head-ſtrong vſurpation put apart,
Arthur my ſonne, heire to thy elder brother,
Without ambiguous ſhadow of diſcent,
Is Soueraigne to the ſubſtance thou withholdst.

Q. Elin. Mil gouernd goſſip, ſtaine to this refort,
Occaſion of the ſeſevndecided iarres,

I ſay (that know) to cheeke thy vaine ſupſoſe,
Thy ſonne hath nought to doe with that he claimes.
For proofe whereof, I can inferre a Will,
That barres the way he vrgeth by diſcent,

Con. A Will indeed, a crabbed womans will,
Wherein the diuell is an onerfeer,

And proud dame Elinor ſole Executrefſe :

More wills than so, on perill of my ſoule,
Were neuer made to hinder Arthur's right.

Arthur, But ſay there was, as ſure there can be none,
The Law intends ſuch teſtaments as void,
Where right diſcent can no way be impeacht,

Q. Elin. Peace Arthur peace, thy mother makes thee
To loare with perill after Icarus,
(wings)

And trust me yongling for thy father ſake,
I pity much the hazard of thy youth.

Con. Befrew you eſſe how pittifull you are,

C

Ready

P

The troublesome Raigne

Ready to weep to heare him aske his owne;
Sorrow betide such Grandames and such griefe,
That minifter a payson for pure loue.
But who so blind, as cannot see this beame,
That you forsooth would keepe your cousin downe,
For feare his mother should be vs'd too well ?
I there's the griefe, confusion catch the braine,
That hammers shifts to stop a Princes raigne,

Q. Elian. Impatient, franticke, common flanderer,
Immodest dame, vnurtur'd quarreller,
I tell thee I not enuy to thy Sonne,
But injustice makes me speake as I haue done.

K. Phil. But here's no proofe that shows your Son a king.

K. I. What wants, my sword shall more at large let down

Lew. But that may breake before the truth be known

Bast. Then this may hold till all his right be shorne.

Lym. Good words fir faunce, your betters are in places

Bast. Not you fir doubty, with your Lyons cafe.

Blanch. Ah joy betide his soule, to whom that fpoyle
Ah Richard, how thy glory here is wrong'd. (belong'd)

Lym. Me thinkes that Richards pride and Richards fall,
Should be a prefident taffi right you all.

Bast. What words are these? how doe my sinews shake?
My fathers foe clad in my fathers fpoyle,
A thousand furies kindle with reuenge,
This heart that choller keepes a co iftorie,
Searing my inwards with a brand of hate
How doth Alde whisper in mine cares ?
Delay not Philip, kill the villaine straight,
Difrobe him of the matchleffe monument
Thy fathers triumph ore the Sauages,
Bafe heardgroom, coward, peafant, worse than a threshing
flane.

What mak'st thou with the Trophie of a King?

Sham't thou not coy, trell, loath some dunghill swad,

To grace thy carkaffe with an ornament

Too precious for a Monarkes couerture?

Scarce

of King John.

Scarce can I temper due obedience

Vnto the prefence of my Soueraigne,

From aking ontrage on this trunke of hate:

But arme thee traytor, wronger of renowne,

For by his soule I sweare, my Fathers soule,

Twife will I not review the mornings rife,

Till I haue torne that Trophee from thy backe,

And spilt thy heart for wearing it so long.

Philip hath sborne, and if it be not done,

Let not the world repute me Richards Sonne.

Lym. Nay soft fir baftard, hearts are not spilt so soone,
Let them reioyce that at the end doe win:
And take this leffon at thy foe-mans hand,
Pawne not thy life to get thy fathers skin.

Blan. Well may the world speak of his knightly valour,
That wins this hide to weare a Ladies fanour.

Bast. Ill may I thrive, and nothing brooke with me,
If shortly I preſent it not to thee.

K. Phil. Lordings forbeare, for time is comming faſt,
That deeds may trie what words cannot determine,

And to the purpose for the cauſe you come.

Me ſeemes you ſet right in chance of warre,

Yeelding no other reaſons for your claime,

But so and so, becauſe it shall be so.

So wrong shall be subornd by truſt of ſtrength:

A tyrants practice to inueſt himſelfe,

Where weake reſſtance giueth wrong the way.

To checke the which, in holy law ſull armes,

I, in the right of Arthur, Geſſeys ſonne,

Am come before this City of Angiers,

To barre all other falſe ſuppoſed claime,

From whence, or how ſoever the error ſprings.

And in his quarrell on my Princely word,

Ile fight it out vnto the lateſt man.

John. Know King of France, I will not bee commanded

By any power or Prince in Chriſtendome,

To yeeld an inſtance how I hold mine owne,

C-2

More

P

The troublesome Raigne

More than to anſwere, that mine owne is mine,
But wilt thou ſee me parley with the Towne,
And heare them offer me allegiance,
Fealtie and homage, as true liegemen ought.

K. Phil. Summon them, I will not believe it till I fee it,
and when I fee it, Ile soone change it.

They summon the Towne, the Citizens appeare
upon the walls.

K. Ioh. You men of Angiers, and as I take it my loyall ſubieſts, I haue summoned you to the walls: to dispute on my right, were to thinke you doubtfull therein, which I am perſwaded you are not. In ſewe words our brothers ſonne, backt with the King of France, haue beleagred your towne vpon a false pretended title to the fame in defence whereof I your liege Lord haue brought our power to fence you from the Vſurper, to free your intended ſeruitude, and vtterly to ſupplant the ſoemen, to my right and your reſt. Say then, who keepe you the towne for ?

Citz. For our lawfull King.

Ioh. I was no leſſe perſwaded: then in Gods name open your gates and let me enter.

Cit. And it please your Highneſſe we controll not your title, neither will we rafhly admi your entrance : if you be lawfull King, with all obedience we keepe it to your vſe, if not King, our rafhnes to be impeached for yeelding, without more considerate triall : wee anſwere not as men lawleſſe, but to the behoofe of him that prooues lawfull.

Ioh. I ſhall not come in then ?

Cit. No my Lord, till we know more.

K. Phil. Then heare me ſpeake in the behalſe of Arthur
fon of Jeffery, elder brother to Iohn, his title manifeſt, with-
out contradiction, to the crowne & kingdome of England,
with Angiers, & diuers townes on this ſide the ſea: will you
acknowledge him your Liege Lord, who ſpeaketh in my
word, to entertain you with all fauors, as befeemeth a King
to his ſubieſts or a friend to his wellwillers: or ſtand to the
perſ of your còempt, w h e his title is proued by the ſword.

Citizen

of King Iohn.

Citz. We anſwere as before, till you haue prooued one
right, we acknowledge none right, he that tries himſelfe
our Soueraigne, to him will we remaine firme ſubieſts, and
for him, and in his right we hold our towne, as deſtrous to
know the truth, as loth to ſubſcribe before we know : more
than this we cannot ſay, & more than this we dare not doe.

K. Phil. Then Ioh, I defie thee, in the name and behalſe
of Arthur Plantaginest, thy King and Couſen, whoſe right
and patrimony thon detaineſt, as I doubt not, ere the day
end, in a ſet battell make thee confefſſe ; whereunto, with a
zeale to right, I challenge thee.

K. Ioh, I accept thy challenge, and turne the defiance
to thy throat.

Excursions. The Baſtard chaſeth Lymogesthe Auſtrich
Duke, and maketh him leaue the Lyons skin.

Baſs. And art thou gone misfortune haunt thy ſteps,
And chill cold ſeare affaile thy times of reſt.
Morphus leaue here thy ſilent Eban caue,
Befiege his thoughts with diſmall fantasies,
And ghaftly obieſts of pale threatening Mors.
Aſſright him euery minute with ſtearne looks,
Let ſhadow temper terror in his thoughts,
And let the terror make the coward mad,
And in his madneſſe let him ſeare purſuit,
And ſo in frenſie let the peafant die.
Here is the ransome that allaies his rage,
The firſt freehold that Richard let his ſonne :
With which I ſhall ſurprife his liuing ſoes,
As Heſtors ſtature did the fainting Greekes.

Exit.

Enter the Kings Heraulds with Trumpets to the walls
of Angiers : they summon the Towne.

Eng. Her. Ioh, by the grace of God King of England,
Lord of Ireland, Aniow, Totaine, &c. demandeth once a
gaine of you his ſubieſts of Angiers, if you will quietly ſur-
render vp the towne into his hands ?

C 3

Fr. Her.

P

The troublesome Raigne

Fr. Herald. Philip by the grace of God King of France,
demandeth in the behalfe of Arthur Duke of Britaine, if
you will surrender vp the towne into his hands, to the vse
of the said Arthur.

Citizens. Heralds goe tell the two vicitious Princes,
that we the poore inhabitants of Angiers, require a parley
of their Maiesties.

Heralds. We goe.

Enter the Kings, Queene Elianor, Blanch, Baftard, Lynnes, Lewis, Castilean, Pembrooke, Salisbury, Constance, and Arthur Duke of Britaine.

John. Herald what answer doe the Towneſmen ſend?

Philip. Will Angiers yeeld to Philip King of France?

Eng. Her. The Towneſmen on the walls accept your
Fr. Her. And craue a parley of your Maiety. (Grace?

John. You Citizens of Angiers, haue your eyes

Beheld the slaughtering that our English bowes

Hae made vpon the coward fraudfull French?

And haue you wifely pondred therewithall

Your gaine in yeelding to the English King?

Phil. Their loſſe in yeelding to the English King.

But John they saw from out their highest Towers

The Cheualiers of France and croſſe bow ſhot

Make lanes of ſlaughtered bodies through thine hoaſt,

And are refolu'd to yeeld to Arthurs right.

John. Why Philip, though thou brauſt it fore the walles,
Thy conſcience knowes that John hath won the field.

Phil. What ere my conſcience knowes, thy Army feeles
That Philip had the better of the day.

Baſtard. Philip indeed hath got the Lyons caſe,
Which heere hee holds to Limoges diſgrace.

Bafe Duke to flye and leaue ſuch ſpoyles behind :

But this thou knewſt of force to make me stay.

It far'd with thee as with the Mariner,

Spying the hugie Whale, whose monſtrous bulko

Doth beare the walles like mountaines fore the winde,

That

of King John.

That throwes out empty veſſels, to stay

His fury, while the ſhip doth faile away.

Philip is thine: and for this princely preſence,
Madame, I humbly lay it at your feete,

Being the firſt aduenture I atchieu'd,

And firſt exploite your Grace did me enioyne:

Yet many more I long to be enioyn't.

Blanch. Philip I take it, and I thee command
To weare the fame as earſt thy father did :
Therewith receive this fauour at my hands,
To encourage thee to follow Richards fame.

Arth. Ye Citizens of Angiers are ye mute?

Arthur or John, lay which shall be your King?

Citz. We care not which, if once we knew the right
But till we know, we will not yeeld our right.

Baſt. Might Philip counſell two ſo mighty Kings,
As are the Kings of England, and of France,
He would aduife your Graces to vnde
And knit your forces 'gainſt these Citizens,
Pulling their battred walls about their eares.

The Towne once wonne, then ſtrue about the claine,

For they are minded to delude you both.

Citi. Kings, Princes, Lords, and Knights affemble here,
The Citizens of Angiers all by me
Entreate your Maiestie to heare them ſpeake :
And as you like the motion they ſhall make,
So to account and follow their aduice.

Ioh. Philip ſpeake on, we give thee leaue.

Citz. Then thus: whereas the young and luſty Knight
Incites you on to knit your Kingly ſtrengths :
The motion cannot chufe but płaſe the good,
And ſuch as loue the quiet of the State.
But how my Lords, how should your ſtrengths be knit ?
Not to oppreſſe your ſubieſts and your friends,
And fill the world with brawles and mutinies :
But vnto peace your forces ſhould be knit
To line in Princely league and amitie ;

Doc

P

The troublesome Raigne

Doe this, the gates of Angiers shall give way,
And stand wide open to your hearts content.

To make this peace a lafting bond of loue,
Remaines one onely honourable meanes,
Which by your pardon I shall here display.

Lewis the Dolphin, and the heire of France,
A man of noted valour through the world,
Is yet vnmarried : let him take to wife

The beautious daughter of the King of Spaine,
Neece to King John, the lonely Lady Blanch,
Begotten on his fitter Elimor.

With her in marriage will her Vnkle gine
Caftles and Towers, as fitteth such a match.

The King thus ioynd in league of perfect loue,
They may do deal with Arthur Duke of Britaine,
Who is but young, and yet vnmeet to raigne,
As he shall stand contented euery way.

Thus haue I boldly (for the common good)
Delivered what the Citie gaue in charge.

And as vpon condition you agree,
So shall we stand content to yeeld the Towne.

Arth. A proper peace, if such a motion hold;
These Kings beare armes for me, and for my right,
And they shall share my lands to make them friends.

Q. Elim. Sonne John, follow this motion, as thou louest thy mother.

Make league with Philip, yeeld to any thing :

Lewis shall haue my Neece, and then be sure
Arthur shall haue small succour out of France.

John. Brother of France, you heare the Citizens:
Then tell me how you meane to deale herein.

Const. Why John, what canst thou give vnto thy Neece,
That haft no foote of land, but Artburs right ?

Lew. Bir lady Citizens, I like your choyce,
A louely damfell is the Lady Blanch,
Worthy the heire of Europe for her pheere.

Const. What Kings, why stand you gazing in a trance ?

Why

of King John.

Why how now Lords ? accursed Citizens
To fill and tickle their ambitious eares,
With hope of gaine, that springs from Artburs loue:
Some difmall Planet at thy birth day raign'd,
For now I see the fall of all thy hopes.

K. Phil. Lady, and Duke of Britaine, know you both,
The King of France respeſt his honour more,
Then to betray his friends and fauourers.
Princesſe of Spaine, could you affect my ſone,
If we vpon condition could agree ?

Baſt. Swounds Madam, take an English Gentleman?
Slaue as I was, I thought to haue moond the match.
Grandame you made me halfe a promife once,
That Lady Blanch ſhould bring me wealth enough,
And make me heire of ſtore of English land.

Q. Elimor, Peace Philip, I will looke thee out a wife,
We must with policy compound this ſtrife.

Bast. If Lewis get her, well, I fay no more:
But let the frolicke Frenchman take no ſcorne,
If Philip front him with an English horne.

John, Lady, what anſwer make you to the K. of France?
Can you affect the Dolphin for your Lord ?

Blanch. I thanke the King that likes of me so well,
To make me Bride vnto so great a Prince :
But give me leane my Lord to paufe on this,
Leaſt being too too forward in the caufe,
If may be blemiſh to my modestie.

Q. Elim. Sonne John, and worthy Philip K of France,
Doe you conferre a while about the Dower,
And I will schoole my modest Neece so well,
That he ſhall yeeld as ſoone as you haue done.

Con. Is there's the wretch that brocheth all this ill,
Why flie I not vpon the Beldams face,
And with my nailes pull forth her hatefull eyes,

Arthur, Sweet mother ceaſe theſe haſtly madding fits :
For my ſake, let my Grandame haue her will.

O would I were with her hands pull forth my heart,

D

I

P

The troublesome Raigne

I could afford it to appease these broyles.

But (mother) let vs wisely winke at all,

Left farther harmes enſue our haſtie ſpeech.

Phil. Brother of England, what Dowrie wilt thou giue?
Vnto my ſonne in marriage with thy Neece?

John. First Philip knowes her dowrie out of Spaine,
To be so great as may content a King :
But more to mend and ampliſe the fame,
I giue in money thirtie thouſand marks.
For land I leaue it to thine owne demaund.

Phil. Then I demaund Volqueſſon, Torain, Main,
Poiters and Aniow, these ſiue Prouinces;

Which thou as King of England holdt in France :
Then ſhall our peace be ſoone concluded on.

Bait. No leſſe then ſiue ſuch Prouinces at once?

Ioh. Mother what ſhall I do? my brother got these lands
With much effusion of our English blood :
And ſhall I giue it all away at once?

Q. Eliu. John giue it him, so ſhalt thou liue in peace,
And keepe the refide fans icopardie.

John. Philip, bring forth thy ſonne, here is my neece,
And here in marriage I doe giue with her
From me and my ſuccessors English Kings,
Volqueſſon, Poiters, Aniow, Torain, Main,
And thirtie thouſand marks of ſtipend coyne.

Now Citizens, how like you of this match?

Cuiu. We loy to ſee ſo ſweete a peace begun.

Lew. Lewis with Blanch ſhall euer liue content.
But now King John, what ſay you to the Duke?

Father, Ipeake as you may in his behalfe.

Phil. K. John, be good vnto thy Nephew here,
And giue him ſomewhat that ſhall pleafe you beſt.

Ioh. Arthur, although thou troublèſt Englands peace,
Yet here I giue thee Brittaine for thine owne;
Together with the Earledome of Richmond,
And this rich Citie of Angiers withall.

Q. Eliuon.

of King John.

Q. Elian. And if thou ſeeke to pleafe thine uncle John,
So ſee my ſonne how I will make of thee,

John. Now every thing is forſted to this end,
Let's in, and there prepare the marriage rites,
Which in S. Marys Chappell preſently

Shall be perſormed ere this Preſence part.

Exeunt.

Manent Conſiſance and Arthur.

Art. Madam good cheer, these drouping langiſhments
Adde no redreſſe to ſalue our aukward haps,
If heauens hane concluded these cuents,

To ſmall aquaile is bitter penſiuenesse:

Seasons will change, and to our preſent greeſe

May change with them, and all to our reliefe.

Conſt. Ah boy, thy yeares I ſee are farre too greene
To looke into the bottome of these cares.

But I, who ſee the poyſet that weigheth downe

Thy weale, my wiſh, and all the willing meanses

Wherewith thy fortune and thy fame ſhould mount,
Whatioy, what eafe, what reſt can lodge in me,

With whom all hope and hap doe disagree?

Arth. Yet Ladies teares, and cares, and ſolemn ſhewes,
Rather then helpes, heape vp more worke for woes.

Conſt. If any power will heare a widowes plaint,
That from a wounded foule implores reuenge;
Send fell contagion to inſect this clime,
This cursed country, where the traytors breath,
Whofe periurie (as proud Briareus),

Beleaguers all the Skye with miſ. beleeſe.

He promiſt Arthur, and he ſware it too,

To fence thy right, and check thy ſee-mans pride:
But now black-spotted Periure as he is,

He takes a truce with Elinors damned brat,

And marries Lewis to her louely Neece,

Sharing thy fortune and thy birth-dayes gift

Betweene these Louers: ill betide the match.

And as they shoulder thee from out thine own,

And triumph in a widowes fearefull cares:

D2

So

P

The troublesome Raigne

So hea'u'n's croſſe them with a thriſſeſſe course,
Is all the bloudy spilt on either part,
Cloſing the cranies of the thirtſy earth,
Groune to a loue-game and a Bridall ſeaſt?
And mnſt thy birth right bid the wedding banes?
Poore helpeſſe boy, hopeleſſe and helpeſſe too,
To whom misfortune ſeemes no yoake at all.
Thy ſtay, thy ſtate, thy imminent miſhaps
Woundeth thy mothers thoughts with feeling care,
Why lookt thou pale, the colour flies thy face:
I trouble now the fountaine of thy youth,
And make it muddie with my doles diſcourſe,
Goe in with me, replie not louely boy,
We muſt obscure this moane with melodie,
Leaſt worſer wrack enſue our male-content.
Exeunt.

Enter the King of England, the King of France, Arthur, Baſtard, Lewis, Lymoges, Constance, Blanch, Chattilson, Peabrooke, Salisbury, and Elinor.

**John.** This is the day, the long-defired day,
Wherein the Realmes of England and of France
Stand highly bleſſed in a laſting peace.
Thrice happy is the Bridegroome and the Bride,
From whose ſweet Bridall ſuch a concord ſprings;
To make of mortall foes immortal friends.

**Conſt.** Vngodly peace made by anothers warre.

**Phil.** Vnhappy peace, that ties thee from reuenge,
Rouze thee *Plantaginet*, liue not to ſee
The butcher of the great *Plantaginet*.
Kings, Princes, and yee Peeres of either Realmes,
Pardon my rafhneſſe, and forgiue the zeale.
That carries me in ſury to a deede
Of high deſert, of honour and ofarmes.
A boone (O Kings) a boone doth *Philip* begge
Proſtrate vpon his knee: which knee ſhall cleane
Vnto the ſuperſicies of the earth,
Till France and England grant this glorious boone.

John.

of King Iohn.

**Iohn.** Speake Philip, England grants thee thy requeſt.
**Phil.** And France confirmes what ere is in his power.
**Baſt.** Then Duke fit ſaſt, I leuell at thy head,
Too baſe a ransome for my fathers life.
Princes, I craue the combate with the Duke
That braues it in diſhonour of my fire.
Your words are paſt, nor can you now reuerſe
The Princely promise that reuiues my ſoule,
Whereat me thinkes I fee his finewes ſhake:
This is the boone (dread Lords) which granted once,
Or life or death are pleasant to my ſoule;
Since I ſhall liue and dye in Richards right.

**Lym.** Baſe baſtard, misbegotten of a King,
To interrupt theſe holy nuptiall rites
With brawles and tumults to a Dukes diſgrace;
Let it ſuffice, I ſcorne to soyne in fight,
With one ſo farre vnequall to my ſelfe.

**Baſt.** A fine excufe, Kings if you will be Kings,
Then keepe your words, and let vs combate it.

**John.** Philip wee cannot force the Duke to fight,
Being a ſubieſt vnto neither Realme:
But tell me *Austria*, if an English Duke,
Should dare thee thus, wouldſt thou accept the challenge?

**Lym.** Elſe let the world account the Auftrich Duke
The greatest toward liuing on the earth.

**John.** Then cheere thee Philip, *Iohn* will keep his word,
Kneele downe, in fight of Philip King of France,
And all theſe Princely Lords afflambled heere,
I gird thee with the ſword of Normandie,
And of that Land I doe inueſt thee Duke:
So ſhalt thou be in liuing and in land
Nothing inferior vnto *Austria*.

**Lym.** K. *John*, I tell thee flatly to thy face,
Thou wrongſt mine honour: and that thou mayſt ſee
How much I ſcorne thy new made Duke and thee,
I flatly ſay, I will not be compeld:
And so farewell fir Duke of low degree,

D 3

Ile

P

The troublesome Raigne

Ile finde a time to match you for this geare. Exit.

John. Stay Philip, let him goe, the honour's thine.

Balt. I cannot liue vnleſſe his life be mine.

Q. Eha. Thy forwardnes this day hath ioy'd my ſoule
And made me thinke my Richard liues in thee.

K. Phil. Lordings let's in, and ſpend the wedding day
In maskes and triumphes, letting quarrels ceate.

Enter a Cardinall from Rome.

Car. Stay King of France, I charge thee ioyn not hands
With him that stands accuſt of God and men.

Know Iohn, that I Pandulph Cardinall of Millaine, and
Legate of the Sea of Rome, demand of thee in the name
of our holy Father the Pope Innocent, why thou doſt
(contrary to the lawes of our holy Mother the Church,
and our holy Father the Pope, diſturb the quiet of the
Church, and diſanull the election of Stephen Langhton,
whom his Holinesſe hath elected Arch-bishop of Can-
terbury: this in his Holinesſe name I demand of thee?

Ioh. And what haſt thou or the Pope thy mafter to do't
demaud of me how I imploy mine owne? Know fir Prieſt,
as I honour the Church and holy Churchmen, so I come
to be ſubieſt to the greateſt Prelate in the world. Tell thy
maſter ſo from me, and ſay, Iohu of England ſaid it, that ne-
uer an Italian Prieſt of them al, ſhal either haue tythe, tole,
or Polling peny out of England; but as I am King, ſo will I
raigne next vnder God, ſupreame head both ouer ſpiritual
and temporall: and he that contradicts me in this, Ile make
him hop headleſſe.

K. Phil. What K. Iohn, know you what you ſay, thus to
blaſpheme againſt our holy father the Pope ?

Ioh. Philip, though thou and all the Princes of Chri-
ſtendome ſuffer them ſelues to bee abus'd by a Prelates ſla-
uer, my minde is not of ſuch bafe temper. If the Pope will
bee King of England, let him win it with the ſword, I know
no other title he can alleadge to mine inheritance.

Card. Iohn, this is thine anſwer?

Iohn.

of King Iohn.

John. What then ?

Card. Then I Pandulph of Padua, Legate from the A-
poſtolike Sea, doe in the name of Saint Peter and his suc-
cessor of our holy Father Pope Innocent, pronounce thee ac-
cuſed, diſcharging every of thy ſubieſts of all dutie and
fealtie that they doe owe to thee, and pardon and forgiue-
neſſe of finne to those or them whatſoever, which ſhall car-
ry armes againſt thee, or murder thee : This I pronounce,
and charge all good men to abhorre thee as an excommu-
nicate perſon.

Ioh. So fir, the more the Foxe is curs'd the better a fares:
if God bleſſe me and my Land, let the Pope and his ſhaue-
lings curſe and ſpare not.

Card. Furthermore, I charge thee Philip, K of France, and
all the Kings and Princes of Chriſtendome, to make warre
vpon this miſcreant: and whereas thou haſt made a league
with him, and confirmed it by oath, I doe in the name of
our foreſaid father the Pope, acquit thee of that oath, as
vnlaw ſull, being made with an Hereticke; how ſaſt thou
Philip, doſt thou obey?

Ioh. Brother of France, what ſay you to the Cardinall ?

Phil. I ſay, I am ſorry for your Maiſtie, requeſting you
to ſubmit your ſelues to the Church of Rome.

Ioh. And what ſay you to our league, if I do not ſubmit?

Phil. What ſhould I ſay ? I muſt obey the Pope.

Ioh. Obey the Pope, and breake your oath to God.

Phil. The Legate hath abſolu'd me of mine oath:
Then yeeld to Rome, or I deſie thee here.

Ioh. Why Philip, I deſie the Pope and thee,
False as thou art, and periur'd King of France,
Vnworthy man to be accounted King.

Giuſt thy thou thy ſword into a Prelates hands :
Pandulph, where I of Abbots, Monkes and Friars,
Haue taken ſomewhat to maintaine my warres,
Now will I take no more but all they haue.
Ile rouze the Iazie lubbers from their cels,
And in deſpight I ſend them to the Pope.

Mother.

P

The troublesome Raigne

Mother come you with me, and for the rest
That will not follow John in this attempt,
Confusion light vpon their damned foules.
Come Lords, fight for your K that fighteth for your good
Phil. And are they gone? Pandulph thy selfe shall fee,
How France will fight for Rome and Romish rites.
Nobles to armes, let him not paffe the seas,
Let's take him captiue, and in triumph lead
The King of England to the gates of Rome.

Arthur, Belfirre thee man, and thou shalt see,
What Philip, King of France will doe for thee.

Blanch. And will your Grace vpon your wedding day
For sake your bride, and follow dreadfull drums?
Nay, good my Lord, stay you at home with me.

Lew. Sweet heart content thee, and we shall agree.

Phil. Follow my Lords, Lord Cardinal leade the way,
Drums shall be musicke to this wedding day.

Exeunt.

Excursions. The Baftard pursues Auftria, and
kills him.

Baft. Thus hath K. Richards son perform'd his vowes,
And offred Auftria's blood for sacrifice
Vnto his fathers euerliuing foule.

Braue Cordelion, now my heart doth say,
I haue defer'd, though not to be thine heire,
Yet as I am, thy bafe begotten sonne,
A name as pleasing to thy Philips heart,
As to be cald the Duke of Normandy.

Lie there a prey to euery rauning fowle :
And as my father triumpht in thy spoyles,
And trode thine ensignes vnderneath his feet,
So doe I tread vpon thy curled selfe,
And leaue thy body to the fowles for food.

Exit.

Excursions. Arthur, Constance, Lewis, having taken

Q. Elinor, prifoner.

(arme

Conft. Thus hath the God of Kings with conquering
Dispearft

of King Iohn.

Dispearft the foes to true succession,
Proud, and disfurber of thy Countries peace,
Constance doth liue to tame thine insolence,
And on thy head will now auenged be
For all the miſchieſes hatched in thy braine.

Q. Elinor, Contemptuous Dame, vnreuerent Dutches
thou,

To braue so great a Queene as Elinor,
Bafefcold haſt thou forgiſethat I was wife
And mother to three mighty English Kings?
I charge thee then, and you for ſooth fir boy,
To fet your Grandmother at liberty,
And yeeld to Iohn your Vncle and your King.

Conſt. This is not thy words proud Queene shall carry it.

Elin. Nor yet thy threats proud dame shall daunt my
mind.

Arth. Sweete Grandame, and good mother leaue these
braules.

Elin. Ile find a time to triumph in thy fall.

Conſt. My time is now to triumph in thy fall,
And thou shalt know that Conſtance wil triumph.

Arth. Good mother, weigh it is Queene Elinor,
Though ſhe be captiue, vſe her like her ſelfe.
Sweet Grandame beare with what my Mother ſayes,
Your Highneſſe shall be vſed honourably.

Enter a messenger.

Meff. Lewis, my Lord, Duke Arthur, and the rest,
To armes in haſt, King Iohn relieues his men,
And ginnes the fight a fresh : and ſweares withall
To looke his life, or fet his mother free.

Lewis. Arthur away, this time to looke about.

Elin. Why how now dame, what is your courage coold.

Conſt. No Elinor, my courage gathers strength,
And hopes to leade both Iohn and thee as flaves :
And in that hope, I hale thee to the field.

Exeunt.

Exeunt.

E

P

The troublesome Raigne

Excuse me. Elinor is rescued by John, and Arthur is taken prisoner. Excuse. Sound victory.

Enter John, Elinor, and Arthur prisoner, Baftard, Pembrooke, Salisbury, and Hubert de Burgh.

John, Thus right triumphs, and John triumphs in right:
Arthur thou feest, France cannot bolfer thee:
Thy mothers pride hath brought thee to this fall.
But if at last Nephew thou yeeld thy selfe
Into the guardance of thine Uncle John,
Thou shall be vsed as becomes a Prince.

Arthur. Uncle, my grandame taught her Nephew this,
To beare captinitie with patience.
Might hath preuail'd, not right, for I am King
Of England, though thou weare the Diademe.

Q. Elin. Sonne John, soone shall we teach him to forget
These proud presumptions, and to know himfelfe.

Ioh. Mother, he neuer will forget his claime,
I would he lind not to remember it.
But leauing this, we will to England now,
And take some order with our Popelings there,
That well with pride and fat of lay mens lands.
Philip, I make thee chiefe in this affaire,
Ranfacke the Abbeis, Cloysters, Priories,
Conuert their coyne vnto my fouldiers vſe:
And whatfoere he be within my Land,
That goes to Rome for iuſtice and for law,
While he may haue his right within the Realme,
Let him be judge'd a traitor to the State,
And suffer as an enemy to England.

Mother, we leane you here beyond the Seas,
As Regent of our Provinces in France,
While we to England take a ſpeedy course,
And thanke our God that gave vs victorie.

Hubert de Burgh take Arthur here to thee,

Be

of King John.

Be he thy Prifoner: Hubert keepe him ſafe,
For on his life doth hang thy Soueraignes Crowne,
But in his death confifts thy Soueraignes bliffe:
Then Hubert, as thou ſhortly heareſt from me,
S ovſe the prifoner I haue guen in charge.

Hubert. Frolicke young Prince though I your keeper be,
Yet ſhall your keeper line at your command.

Arth. As pleafelyour God, so ſhall become of me.

Q. Eliam. My ſonne to England I will ſee thee ſhipt,
And pray to God to ſend thee ſafe alfore,

Baſt. Now warres are done I long to be at home,
To diue into the Monks and Abbots bagges,
To make ſome ſport among the ſmooth skind Nunnes,
And keepe ſome reuell with the fanzen Friers.

John. To England Lords, each looke vnto your charge,
And arme your ſelues againſt the Romane pride. Exemus.

Enter the King of France, Lewis his ſonne, Cardinall Pandolph Legate, and Conſtance.

Philip. What euery man attacht with this miſhap?
Why frowne you so, why droope ye Lords of France?
Me thinkes it differs from a warlike minde.
To lowre it for a checke or two of Chance.
Had Lymoges eſcapt the Baſtards ſpight,
A little lorrow might haue ſeru'd our loffe.
Brave Auffria, hcauen ioyes to haue thee there.

Card. His ſoule is ſafe and free from Purgatory,
Our holy Father hath diſpenſt his ſinnes,
The bleſſed Saints haue heard our Orifons,
And all are mediators for his ſoule,
And in the right of theſe moſt holy warres,
His Holinesſe free pardon doth pronouue
To all that follow you gainſt English Heretikes,
Who stand accurſed in our mother Church.

Enter Conſtance alone.

E. 3

Philip

P

The troublesome Raigne

Philip. To aggrauate the meaſure of our greeſe,
All male-content comes Conſtance for her ſonne.
Be briefe good Madame, for your face imports
A Tragicke tale behind that's yet vntold.
Her paſſions ſlop the Organ of her voyce,
Deepe forrow throbbeth miſ-beſalne euents,
Out with it Lady, that our Act may end
A full Cataſtrophe of ſad laments.

Conſt. My tongue is tun'd to ſtorie forthe miſhap,
When did I breath to tell a pleasing tale?
Muſt Conſtance ſpeak? let reares prevent her talke:
Muſt I diſcourſe? let Dido ſigh and ſay,
Shee weepes againe to heare the wracke of Troy:
Two words will ſerue, and then my tale is done:
Elinor proud brat hath robd me of my ſonne.

Lewis. Haue patience Madame, this is chance of war
He may be ransom'd, we reuenge his wrong.

Conſt. Be it ne're so ſoone, I ſhall not liue so long.

Phil. Defpaire not yet, come Conſtance, goe with me,
The ſe cloudſwil fleet, the day wil cleare againe. Exeunt.

Card. Now Lewis thy fortune buds with happy ſpring,
Our holy fathers prayers effeſteth this.

Arthur is ſafe, let John alone with him,
Thy title next is fairſt to Englands Crowne:

Now ſurre thy father to begin with John,
The Pope ſayes I, and ſois Albion thine.

Lewis. Thanks my Lord Legat for your good conceit,
T'is beſt we follow now the game is ſaire,
My father wants to worke him your good words.

Card. A few will ſerue to forward him in this,
Thoſe ſhall not want: but let's about it then. Exeunt.

Enter Philip leading a Frier, charging him ſhow where the
Abbots gold lay.

Phil. Come on you fat Francifcan, dallie no longer, but
ſhow me where the Abbots treaſure lies, or die.

Frier

of King John.

Frier. Benedicamus Domini, was euer ſuch an iniurie?
Sweet S. Withold of thy lenity, defend vs from extremity,
And heare vs for S. Charity, oppreſſed with auſterity,
In nomini Domini, make I my homily,
Gentle Gentility grieue not the Cleargie.

Phil. Gray-gown'd good face, comure ye,
nere truſt me for a groat
If this waſt girdle hang thee not
that girdeth in thy coat.

Now bald and barefoot Bungie birds,
when vp the gallowes climing,
Say Philip he had words enough,
to put you downe with riming.

Fr. O pardon, O parrce, S. Francis for mercie,
Shall shield thee from night-ſpels & dreaming of diuels,
If thou wilt forgiue me, and neuer more grieue me,
With faſting and praying, and Haile Mary ſaying,
From black Purgatory, a penance right ſory:
Frier Thomas will warme you.
It ſhall neuer harme you.

Phil. Come leaue off your rabble,
Sirs, hang vp this lozell.

2, Fr. For charity I beg his life,
Saint Francis chieſeſt Frier,
The beſt in all our Couent ſir,
to keepe a Vintners fire.

O ſtrangle not the good old man,
my hoſſeſſe oldeſt gueſt,
And I will bring you by and by
vnto the Priors cheſt.

Phil. I, ſaſt thou ſo, & if thou wilt the Frier is at liberty,
If not, as I am honest man, I hang you both for company
Fr. Come hither, this is the cheſt, though ſimple to behold,
That wanteth not a thouſand pouud in filuer & in gold,
My ſelf wil warrant ſul ſo much, I know the Abots ſtore,
Ile pawn my life there is no leſs, to haue what ere is more.

Phil. I take thy word, the ouerplus vnto thy share ſhal
come,

E3

But

P

The troublesome Raigne

But if there want of full so much, thy necke shall pay the
funne.

Breake vp the Coffer, Frier:

Frier. Oh I am vndone, faire Alice the Nunne

Hath tooke vp her reft in the Abbots cheft.

Sancte benedicite pardon my simplicitie.

Fie Alice, confection will not fale this tranſgreſſion.

Philip. What hane we heere, a holy Nunne? so keepe me God in health.

A smooth fac'd Nunne (for ought I know) is all the Abbots
wealth.

Is this the Nunries chaſlitie?

Befrew me but I thinke

They go as oft to venery, as niggards to their drinke.

Why paltry Frier and Pandar too, yee ſhameleſſe ſhauen
crowne,

Iſ this the cheſt that held a hoord,
at leaſt a thouſand pound ?

And is the hoord a holy whore,
well, be the hangman nimble,

Hee'le take the paine to pay you home,
and teach you to diſſemble.

Nunne. O spare the Frier Anthony,
a better neuer was,

To ſing a Dirge ſolemnly,
or read a morning maffe.

If money be the meanes of this,
I know an ancient Nunne,

That hath a hoord theſe ſeuen yeares
did neuer ſee the funne;

And that is yours, and what is ours,
ſo ſauounnow be ſhowne,

You ſhall command as commonly,
ar if it were your owne.

Frier. Your honour excepted.

Nunne. I Thomas, I meane so.

Philip. From all ſaue from Friers.

Nunne.

of King Iohn.

Nun. Good fir, doe not thinke so.

Phil. I thinke and ſee so:

Why how camſt thou here ?

Fri. To hide her from lay men.

Nun. Tis true fir, for ſeare.

Phil. For ſeare of the laitie: a pitifull dread

When a Nunne flies for ſuccour to a fat Friers bed,

But now for your ransome my cloyſter-bred conney,

To the cheſt that you ſpeake of where lies so much mony.

Nun. Faire fir, within this preſſe, of plate and money is
The valew of a thouſand markes, and other things by gis.

Let vs alone, and take it all, tis yours fir, now you know it.

Phil. Come on fir Frier, picke the locke, this geere doth
cotton hansome, (some.

That couetouſneſſe so cunningly muſt pay the lechers ran-
What is in the hoord ?

Fr. Frier Laurence my Lord, now holy water helpe vs,
Some witch or ſome divell is ſent to delude vs:

Haud Credo Laurentius, that thou ſhouldſt be pend thus

In the preſſe of a Nun we are all vndone,

And brought to diſcredence if thou be Frier Laurence,

Fr. Amor vincit omnia, so Cato affirmeth,

And therefore a Frier whose ſancy ſoone burneth,

Because he is mortall and made of mould,

He omits what he ought, and doth more then he ſhould.

Philip. How goes this geere? the Friers cheſt fill'd with
a ſaufen Nunne.

The Nunne againe lockes Frier yp,
to keepe him from the Sunne.

Belike the preſſe is Purgatory,
or penance paſſing grieuous:

The Friers cheſt a hell for Nunnes/
how doe theſe dolts deceue vs?

Is this the labour of their liues, to feed and line at eafe?

To reuell ſo laſciuionſly as often as they pleafe.

He mend the fault or faile my aime,
if I do miffle amending,

Tis

P

The trouble some Raigne

Tis better burne the Cloysters downe,
then leaue them for offending.

But holy you, to you I speake,
to you religious deuill,

Is this the prefle that holds the fumme,
to quit you for your cuill

Nun. I cry peccavi, parce me,
good fir I was beguil'd.

Fr. Absolue fir for charitie,
she would be reconcile'd.

Phil. And so I shall, firs bind them faft,

This is their abfolution,

go hang them vp for hurting them,

Haft them to execution.

Fr. Laurence. O tempus edax rerum,
Give children bookes they teare them.

O vanitas vanitatis, in this waining etatis,
At threescore welneere, to goe to this geere,
To my confcience a clog, to die like a dog.

Exaudi me Domine, fi vis me parce
Dabo pecuniam, fi habeo veniam.

To goe and fetch it, I will dispatch it,

A hundred pound fterling, for my liues ſparing.

Enter Peter a Prophet, with people.

Pet. Hoe, who is here ? St. Francis be your ſpeed,
Come in my flocke, and follow me,
your fortunes I will reed.

Come hither boy, goe get thee home,
and clime not ouer hie,

For from aloft thy fortune ſtands, in hazard thou ſhalt die.

Boy. God be with you Peter, I pray you come to our
house a Sunday.

Pet. My boy ſhew me thy hand, bleſſe thee my boy,
For in thy palme I fee a many troubles are y bent to dwell,
But thou ſhalt ſcape them all, and doe full well.

Boy.

of King John.

Boy, I thanke you Peter, there's a cheeſe for your labor:
my firſter prayes you to come home, and tell her how many
husbands ſhe ſhall haue, and ſhee! I giue you a rib of bacon.

Pet. My maſters, ſtay at the towns end for me, Ile come
to you all anone : I muſt dispatch ſome buſines with a Fri-
er, and then Ile read your fortunes.

Phil. How now, a Prophet ! fir Prophet whence are ye?

Pet. I am of the world and in the world, but liue not as
others, by the world what I am I know, and what thou wilt
be I know. If thou knoweſt me now, be anſwered: if not,
enquire no more what I am.

Phil. Sir, I know you will be a diſlembing Knane, that
deludes the people with blinde prophecies: you are he I
looke for, you ſhall away with me, bring away all the rable:
and you Frier Laurence, remember your raunsome a hun-
dred pound, and a pardon for your ſelſe, and the reſt; come
on fir prophet, you ſhall with me, to receiue a prophets re-
ward.

Exeunt.

Enter Hubert de Burgh with three men.

Hub. My maſters, I haue ſhewed you what warrant
I haue for this attempt; I perceiue by your heauy counte-
nances you had rather be otherwife employed, and for my
owne part, I would the King had made choyſe of ſome o-
ther executioner: only this is my comfort that a king com-
maunds, whose precepts neglected or omitted, threatneth
torture for the default. Therefore in briefe leane me, and be
ready to attend the aduenture: ſtay within that entry, and
when you heare me crie, God ſaue the King, iffue suddenly
forth, lay hands on Arthur, fet him in this chaire, wherein
(once ſaft bound) leane him with me to finſh the reſt.

Attendants, We goe, though loath.

Exeunt.

Hub. My Lord, will it please your Honor to take the be-
neſt of the faire euening ?

Enter Arthur to Hubert de Burgh.

Arthur, Gramercie Hubert for thy care of me,

P

In

P

The troublesome Raigne

In or to whom restraint is newly knowne,
The joy of walking is small benefit,
Yet will I take thy offer with small thanks,
I would not loose the pleasure of the eye.
But tell me curteous Keeper if thou can,
How long the King will haue me tarry here.
Hubert I know not Prince but as I geſſe, not long;
God ſend you freedome, and God ſaue the King.

They iffue forth.

Arthur, Why how now firſ, what may this ontrage
meane?

O help me Hubert, gentle Keeper helpe:
God ſend this ſudden mutinous approach
Tend not to reaue a wretched guiltles life.

Hub. So firſ, depart, and leaue the reſt for me:

Arth. Then Arthur yeeld, death frowneth in thy face,
What meaneth this good Hubert pleade the cafe.

Hub. Patience young Lord, and lıſten words of woe,
Harmefull and harſh, hels horror to be heard:
A diſſaill tale fit for a ſuries tongue.

I faint to tell, deepe ſorrow is the found.

Arth. What muſt I die ?

Hub. No newes of death, but tidings of more hate,
A wrathfull doome, and moſt vnluckie fate :
Deaths diſh were daintie at so ſell a feaſt,
Be deafe, heare not, it's hell to tell the reſt.

Arth. Alas, thou wrongſt my youth with words of ſcare,
Tis hell, tis horror, not for one to heare :
What is it man if it muſt needes be done,
A& it, and end it, that the paine were gone.

Hub. I will not chaunt ſuch dolour with my tongue,
Yet muſt I aſt the outrage with my hand.

My heat, my head, and all my powers befide,
To aide the office haue at once deni'd.
Perſue this letter, lines of trebble woe,

Reade o're my charge, and pardon when you know.

Hubert

of King John.

Hubert, these are to command thee, as thou tendrest our quiet
in mindes, and the eſtate of our person, that preeſently upon the
receipt of our command, thou put out the eyes of Arthur
Plantaginet.

Arthur. Ah monſtrous damned man: his very breath
inſects the clements.

Contagious venome dwelleth in his heart,
Eſſecting meanes to poyſon all the world.

Vnreuerent may I be to blame the heauens
Of great iniuſtice that the miſcreant

Lines to oppreſſe the Innocents with wrong.

Ah Hubert: makes hee thee his inſtrument,
To found the trump thit cauſeth hell triumph?

Heauen weepes, the Saints do ſhed celestiall teares,

They ſeare thy fall and cite thee with remorſe,

They knocke thy conscience mouing pitie there,

Willing to ſence thee from the rage of hell:

Hell Hubert, truſt me all the plagues of hell

Hangs on perſormance of this damned deed.

This ſeale, the warrant of the bodies bliffe,

Enſureth Satan chieſtane of thy ſoule:

Subſcribe not Hubert, giue not Gods part away.

I ſpeak not only for eyes priuledge,

The chieſe exterior that I would enioy:

But for thy perill, farre beyond my paine,

Thy ſweet ſoules loſſe, more then mine eyes vaine lacke:

A cafe internall and externall too.

Aduſe thee Hubert, for the cafe is hard,

To looſe ſaluation for a Kings reward.

Hubert. My Lord, a ſubieſt dwelling in the land

Is tied to execute the Kings command.

(further,

Arthur Yet God commands, whoſe power reacheth
That no command ſhould ſtand in force to murther.

Hubert. But that fame eſſence hath ordaind a law,
A death for guilt, to keepe the world in awe.

Arthur. I pleade, not guilty, treaſonſe and free.

F 2

Hubert

P

The troublesome Raigne

Hubert. But that appeale my Lord concernes not me,
Arthur. Why thou art thee that maist omit the perill,
Hubert. I, if my Soueraigne would omit his quarrell,
Arthur. His quarrell is vnhallowed, false and wrong,
Hubert. Then be the blame to whom it doth belong.
Arthur. Why that's to thee if thou as they proceede,
Conclude their indgement with so vilde a decede.

Hubert. Why then no execution can be lawfull,
If i judges doomes must be reputed doubtfull.

Arthur. Yes, where in forme of law in place and time,
The offender is conuiccted of the crime.

Hubert. My Lord, my Lord, this long expostulation,
Heapes vp more griefe then promife of redresse;
For this I know, and so refolu'd I end,
That subiects liues on Kings commands depend.
I muft not reaſon why he is your foe,
But doe his charge ſince he commands it so.

Arthur. Then do thy charge, and charged be thy foule.
With wrongfull perſecution done this day,

You rowling eyes, whoſe ſupernſicies yet
I doe behold with eyes that nature lent:

Send forth the terror of your mouers frowne,
To wreake my wrong vpon the murrherers

That rob me of your faire reſſing view:
Let hell to them (as earth they wifh to me)

Be darke and direfull guerdon for their guilt,
And let the blaoket tormenters of deepe Tartary

Vpbraid them with this damned enterprise,
Inflicting change of tortures on their foules.

Delay not Hubert, my orifons are ended,
Begin I pray thee, reane me of my fight:

But to performe a tragedie indeede,
Conclude the period with a mortall ſtab.

Conſtance farewell, tormentor come away;
Make my dispatch the Tyrants feaſting day.

Hubert. I paint, I feare my conscience bids deſſt:
Faint did I fay? ſcare was it that I named:

My

of King Iohn.

My King commands, that warrant lets me free:
But God forbids and he commandeth Kings,
That great Commander counterchecks my charge,
He ſtayes my hand, he maketh loſt my heart,
Goe curſed tooles, your office is exempt,
Cheere thee young Lord, thou šalt not loſe an eye,
Though I should purchafe it with loſſe of life.

Ile to the King, and ſay his will is done,
And of the languor tell him thou art dead,
Goe in with me for Hubert was not borne

To blinde those lampes that Nature poliſht ſo.

Arthur. Hubert if euer Arthur be in state,
Looke for ameuds of this received gift,
I tooke my eyesight by thy curteſſe,
Thou lentſt them me, I will not be ingrate.

But now procreaſtation may offenſ
The illue that thy kindneſſe vndertakes:

Depart we Hubert to preuent the worſt.

Exeunt.

Enter K.Iohn, Eſſex, Salisbury, Pembrooke.

Iohn. Now warlike followers reſſeth ought vndone,
That may impeach vs of fond ouerſight?

The French haue felt the temper of our ſwords,
Cold terror keepes poſſeſlion in their foules,

Checking their ouerdaring arrogance
For buckling with so great an ouermatch,

The arch prowd titled Priest of Italy,
That calls himſelfe grand Vicar vnder God,
Is buſed now with Trentall obſequies,

Maffe and months mind, dirge and I know not what,

To eafe their foules in painfull Purgatory,
That haue miſcarried in theſe blondy warres.

Heard you not Lords when firſt his Holinſſe
Had ridings of our ſmall account of him,

How with a taunt vaunting vpon his toes,
He vrgde a reaſon why the English Aſſe

Difſaing the bleſſed ordinance of Roms d

F-3

The

P

The troublesome Raigne

The title (reverently might I inferre)
Became the Kings that earſt haue borne the load,
The ſlawiſh weight of that controlling Prief :
Who at his pleaſure tempered them like waxe
To carry armes on danger of his curſe,
Banding their ſoules with warrants of his hand.
I grieue to thinke how Kings in ages paff
(Simply denoted to the Sea of Rome)
Hae run into a thouſand acts of ſhame.
But now for confirmation of our State,
Sith we haue proind the more then needeſt full brtaunch
That did opperſe the true well growing flocke,
It reſſeth we throughout our territories
Be reproclaimed and inueſted King.

Pemb. My Liege, that were to bufſe men with doubts,
Once were you crown'd, proclaim'd, and with applause
Your Citie ſtreetes haue ecchoed to the care,
God faue the King, God faue our Soueraigne Iohn.
Pardon my ſeare, my cenſure doth inferre,
Your Highneſſe not depos'd from Regall State,
Would breed a mutinie in peoples mindeſ,
What it ſhould meane to haue you crowd ſagaine.
Iohn. Pembrooke performe what I haue bid thee doe,
Thou knowſt not what induceth me to this,
Eſſex goe in and Lordings all be gone
About this taske, I will be crowd anon.

Enter the Baſſard.

Iohn. What nowes, how doe the Abbots cheſts?
Are Friers fatter then the Nunnes are faire?
What cheere with Church-men, had they gold or no?
Tell me, how hath thy office rooke eſſe?
What nowes, how doe the Abbots cheſts?

Phil. My Lord, I haue perform'd your Highnes charge,
The cafe-bred Abbots and the bare-foote Friers,
The Monks, the Priors, and holy cloyſtred Nunnes,
Are all in health, and were my Lord in wealth,
Till I had tythd and told their holy hoards.

of King Iohn.

I doubt not when your Highneſſe fees my prize,
You may proportion all their former pride.

Iohn. Why ſo, now ſorts it Philip as it ſhould:
This ſmall intruſion into Abbey trunkes,
Will make the Popelings excommunicate,
Curſe, ban, and breath out damned orifons,
As thicke as haile-stones for the Springs approach :
But yet as ſharmeleſſe and withour eſſet,
As is the echo of a Canons cracke
Difcharg'd againſt the battlements of heauen.
But what newes eſſe beſell there Philip?

Baſſ. Strange newes my Lord: within your territories
Neere Pomeſtret is a Prophet new ſprung vp,
Whofe diuination volleis wonders ſoorth:
To him the Commons throng with Country gifts,
He ſets a date vnto the Beldames death,
Prefcribes how long the Virgins death ſhall laſt,
Diftinguſeth the mouing of the heauen,
Gives limits vnto holy nuptiall rites,
Foreſelleth ſamine, aboundeth plenty ſorth:
Of fate, of fortune, life and death he chats,
With ſuch aflurance, ſeruples put apart,
As if he knew the certaine doomes of heauen,
Or kept a Register of all the deſtines.

Ioh. Thou telsſt me maruels, would thou haſt brought
the man,
Wemight haue queſtion him of things to come.

Baſſ. My Lord, I tooke a care of had-I-wiſt,
And brought the Prophet with me to the Court,
He ſtaies my Lord but at the Prefence doore :
Pleafeth your Highneſſe, I will call him in.

Iohn. Nay ſtay a while, we eel haue him here anone,
A thing of weight is firſt to be perform'd.

Enter the Nobles and crowne King Iohn, and then cry
God faue the King.

Iohn, Lordings and friends ſupporters of our State,
Admire

P

The troublesome Raigne

Admire not at this vnccuſtom'd courſe,
Nor in your thoughts blame not this deede of yours.

Once ere this time was I inueſted King,
Your ſealtie ſworne as Liegemen to our ſtate :

Once ſince that time ambitious weedes haue ſprung
To ſtaine the beauty of our garden plot :

But heauens in our conduct rooting thence
The falſe intruders, breakers of worlds peace,

Hauë to our ioy, made ſunne-shine chafie the ſtorme.
After the which, to try your conſtancie,
That now I ſee is worthy of your names,
We crau'd once more your helpes for to inueſt vs
Into the right that enuy fought to wracke.

Once was I not depoſe, your former choyce;
Now twice beene crowned and applauded King ?

Your cheered action to inſtall me ſo,

Infers allured witneſſe of your loues,

And binds me ouer in a Kingly care

To render loue with loue, rewards of worth

To ballance downe reequall to the full.

But thanks the while, thanks the Lordings to you all:
Aske me and vſe me, trie me and finde me yours.

Esſex. A boone my Lord, at vantage of your words
We aske to guerdon all our loyalties.

Pemb. We take the time your Highneſſe bids vs aske:
Please it you grant, you make your promife good,
With leſſer loſſe then one ſuperfluous haire
That not remembred falleth from your head.

Ioh, My word is paſt, receine your boone my Lords,
What may it be ? Aske it, and it is yours.

Esſex. We crane my Lord to pleafe the commons with
The libertie of Lady Conſtance ſonne :
Whofe durance darkeneth your Highneſſe right,
As if you kept him prifoner, to the end
Your ſelſe were doubtfull of the thing you haue.
Dimiſſe him thence your Highneſſe needes not ſeare,
Twice by conſent you are proclaim'd our King.

Pembrooke

of King John.

Pemb. This if you grant, were all vnto your good :
For ſimple people mule you keepe him cloſe.

Ioh. Your words haue ſearcht the center of my thoghts,
Confirming warrant of your loyalties,
Dimiſſe your counſell, (way my ſtate,
Let Ioh doe nothing, but by your conſents.
Why how now Philip, what extaſie is this ?
Why caſts thou vp thy eyes to heauen ſo?

There ſiue Moones appeare.

Baſt. See, ſee my Lord, ſtrange apparitions,
Glancing mine eye to ſee the Diadem
Plac'd by the Bifhops on your Highneſſe head,
From forth a gloomy cloud, which curtaine-like
Diſplaid it ſelſe, I ſuddenly eſpied
Fiue Moones reflecting, as you ſee them now :
Euen in the moment that the Crowne was plac'd
Gan they appeare, holding the courſe you ſee.

Ioh. What might portend theſe apparitions,
Vnſuall ſignes, forerunners of enuent,
Prefagers of ſtrange terrors to the world :
Belieue me Lords, the obieſt ſeares me much.
Philip, thou toldſt me of a Wizard but of late,
Fetch in the man to deſcant of this flow.

Pemb. The heauens frowne vpon the ſinfull earth,
When with prodigious vnccuſtom'd ſignes
They ſpot their ſuperſicies with ſuch wonder.

Esſex. Before the ruines of Ierusalem,
Such meteors were the Enſignes of his wrath,
That haſt ned to deſtroy the faultfull towne.

Enter the Baſtard with the Prophet.

Ioh, Is this the man ?

Baſt. It is my Lord.

Ioh. Prophet of Pomfret, for ſo I heare thou art,

G

That

P

The troublesome Raigne

That calculation of many things to come :

Who by a power repleat with heauenly gift,
Canst blab the countrell of thy Makers will.
If fame be true, or truth be wrong'd by thee,
Decide in cyphering, what these five Moones
Portend this clime, if they prelage at all.
Breath out thy gift, and if I liue to see
Thy diuination take a true effect,
Ile honour thee aboue all earthly men.

Pet. The skye wherein these Moones haue residence,
Presenteth Rome the great Metropolis,
Where fits the Pope in all his holy pompe.
Foure of the moones present foure provinces,
To wit, Spaine, Denmark, Germanie, and France,
That bearethe yoke of proud commanding Rome,
And land in feare to tempt the Prelates curfe.
The smallest moone that whirles about the rest,
Impatient of the place he holds with them,
Doth figure forth this Island-Albion,
Who gins to scorne the sea and feat of Rome,
And feekes to shun the Edicts of the Pope:
This showes the heauen, and this I doe auerre
Is figured in the apparitions.

Iob. Why then it seemes the heauens smile on vs,
Giving applause for leauing of the Pope.
But for they chance in our Meridian,
Doe they effect no priuate growing ill
To be inflieted on vs in this clime?

Pet. The moones effect no more than what I said :

But on some other knowledge that I haue
By my preficience, ere Ascension day
Hae brought the Sunne vnto his vfall height,
Of Crowne, Estate, and Royall dignity,
Thou shall be cleane dispoyld and diſpoſed.
Iob. False dreamer, perish with thy witched newes,
Villaine thou woundſt me with thy fallacies:
If it be true, die for thy tidings price;

of King John.

If false, for fearing me with vaine ſuppofe:
Hence with the Witch, hels damned secretarie,
Locke him vp ſure, for by my faith I ſweare,
True or not true, the Wizard shall not lue.
Before ascension day: who should be cauſe heereof?
Cut off the cauſe, and then the effect will die.
Tut, tut, my mercy ſerues to maime my ſelſe,
The roote doth lue from whence these thornes ſpring vp,
I and my promise paſt for his delinerie:
Frowne friends, ſaile faith, the diuell doe withall,
The brat shall dye that terrifies me thus.
Pembrooke and Eſſex. I recall my graunt,
I will not buy your ſavours with my ſeare:
Nay murmur not, my will is law enough,
I loue you well, but if I lou'd you better,
I would not buy it with my diſcontent.

Enter Hubert.

How now what newes with thee?

Hub. According to your highneſt ſtrict command,
Young Art buſers eyes are blinded and extinet.

Iob. Why so, then he may ſeele the crowne but neuer ſee
Hub. Nor ſee nor ſeele, for of the extreame paine, (it)
Within one houre gaue he vp the ghoſt.

Iob. What, is he dead?

Hub. He is my Lord.

Iob. Then with him dies my care.

Eſſex. Now ioy betide thy ſoule.

Pemb. And heauens reuenge thy death.

Eſſex. VWhat haue you done my Lord? Was euer heard
A deed of more inhumane conſequence?
Your foes will curſe, your friends will cry reuenge.
Vunkindly rage more rough then Northern wind,
To clip the beauty of so ſweet a flower.
VWhat hope invs for mercy on a fault,
VWhen Kinſman dyes without impeach of cauſe,
As you have done so come to cheere you with,
The guilt shall neuer be cauſt in my teeth,

Exeunt.

Iohn.

G 2

P

The troublesome Raigne

Tob. And are you gone? The diuell be your guide:
Proud rebels as ye are to braue me so:
Saucie, vnciuill checkers of my will.
Your tongues give edge vnto the fatall knife,
That shall haue passage through your traitorous
throats.
But husht, breath not bugs words too soone abroad,
Least time preuent the illue of my reach.

Arthur is dead, I, there the corziue growes:
But while he liu'd, the danger was the more;
His death hath freed me from a thousand feares,
But it hath purchase me ten times ten thousand foes.
Why all is one, such lucke shall haunt his game,
To whom the diuell owes an open shame:
His life a foe that leueld at my crowne,
His death a frame to pull my building downe.
My thoughts harpt still on quiet by his end,
Who liuing aymed shrewdly at my roome:
But to prevent that plea, twice was I crown'd,
Twice did my subjeets fweare me fealty,
And in my conscience lou'd me as their liege,
In whose defence they would haue pawn'd their liues.

But now they shun me as a Serpents sting,
A tragycke tyrant, sterne and pittileffe,
And not a title followes after Iohn,
But butcher, bloodfucker, and murtherer.

What Planet gouern'd my Nativity,
To bode me Soueraigne types of high estate,
So interlac'd with hellish discontent,
Wherein fell fury hath no interest.
Curst be the crowne, chiefe author of my care,
Nay curst my will, that made the crowne my care:
Curst be my birthday, curst tentimes the wombe
That yeielded me aliue into the world.

Art thou there villaine: furies havnt thee still,
For killing him whom all the world laments.

Hub. Why heer's my Lord your Highnes hand & scale,
Char-

of King Iohn.

Charging on liues regard to doe the deed.

Iohn. Ah dull conceipted Pefant knowst thou not
It was a damned execrable deed:
Shewst me a Scale? Oh villaine, both our foules
Haue fold their freedome to the thrall of hell,
Vnder the warrant of that cursed Scale.
Hence villaine, hang thy selfe, and say in hell
That I am comming for a Kingdome there.

Hubert. My Lord, attend the happy tale I tell,
For heauens health fend Sathan packing hence
That inftigates your highnesse to despair.
If Arthurs death be difmall to be heard,
Bandie the newes for rumors of vntruth:
He liues my Lord, the sweetest youth aliue,
In health, with eyesight, not a hayre amiffe.
This heart tooke uigor from this forward hand,
Making it weake to execute your charge.

Iohn. What, liues hee! then fweete hope come home a-
Chafethence despair, the purueyor for hell. (gen,
Hye Hubert, tell thefe tidings to my Lords
That throb in passions for young Arthurs death:
Hence Hubert, itay not till thou haft reucald
The wifhed newes of Arthurs happy health.
I goe my selfe, the ioyfulft man aliue
To ſtorie out this new ſuppoſed crime,
Exennt.

The end of the firſt Part.

G 3

The

P

To the Gentlemen Readers.

The changeleſe purpose of determinde Fate,
Gives period to our care, or hearts content,
When heau'n's fixt time for this or that hath end;
Nor can earths pomp, or pollicie preuent
The deome ordained in their ſecret will.
Gentiles, we left King Iohn repleat wish bliffe,
That Arthur liude, whom he ſuppoſed ſlaine;
And Hubert poaſting to returne thoſe Lords,
Who deem'd him dead, and parted discontent :
Arthur himſelfe begins our later Act,
Our Act of outrage, deſpaire, fury, death;
Wherein fond rafhneſſe murdreth firſt a Prince,
And Monkis ſalſeneſſe poyſeth laſt a King :
First Scene ſhewes Arthurs death in inſancie,
And laſt concludes Iohns fatall Tragedie.

The ſecond part of the trouble-
ſome Raigne of King Iohn.

Containing

The entrance of Lewis the French Kings ſonne:
With the poyſoning of King Iohn by
a Monke.

Enter young Arthur on the walls.

Now helpe good hap to further mine intent,
Croſſe not my youth with any more extreames:
I venture life to gaine my liberty,
And if I die, worlds troubles hane an end.
Feare gins diſſwade the ſtrength of my ſeſolue,
My hold will faile, and then alas I fall,
And if I fall, no queſtion death is next :
Better deſtift, and liue in prifon ſtill.
Prifon faid I ? nay, rather death then ſo:
Comfort and courage come againe to me,
Ile venter ſure : tis but a leape for life.

He leapes, and brusſing his bones, after he was from
his traunce, ſpeakes thus :

Hoe, who is nigh ? some body take me vp.
Where is my mother ? let me ſpeake with her.
Who hurts me thus ? ſpeake hoe, where are you gone?
Ah me poore Arthur, I am here alone.
Why call'd I mother, how did I forget ?
My fall, my fall, hath kill'd my mothers ſonne.
How will the weepe at tidings of my death ?
My death indeed, O God, my bones are burſt.

H

Sweete

P

## The troublesome Raigne

Sweet Iesu faue my foule, forgiue my rash attempt,
Comfort my mother, shield her from despaire,
When the shall heare my tragycke ouerthrow.
My heart controls the office of my tongue,
My vitall powers forfake my bruſed truncke,
I die, I die, heauen take my fleeting foule,
And Lady mother all good hap to thee.

He dies.

Enter Pembrooke, Salisbury, Essex.

Essex. My Lords of Pembrooke and of Salisbury,
We must be careful in our policy,
To vndermine the keepers of this place,
Elle shall we neuer finde the Princes graue.

Pemb. My Lord of Essex, take no care for that,
I warrant you it was not cloſely done.
But who is this? loe Lords the withered flowre,
Who in his life ſhin'd like the mornings bluſh,
Caſt out a doore, deni'd his buriall right,
A prey for birds and beaſts to gorge vpon.

Salisb. O ruthfull ſpectacle! O damned deed!
My finewes ſhake my very heart doth bleed.

Essex. Leaue childſh teares braue Lords of England,
If water-floods could fetch his life againe,
My eyes ſhould conduit forth a ſea of teares.
If ſobs would helpe, or ſorrowes ſerue the turne,
My heart ſhould volley out deepe piercing plaints.
But bootleſſe were't to breath as many ſighes
As might ecclipſe the brightest Sommers Sunne,
Here reſt's the helpe, a ſeruice to his Ghoſt.
Let not the tyrant canſer of this dole,
Lie to triumph in ruthfull maſſacres,
Gie hand and heart, and Englishmen to armes,
Tis Gods decree to wreake vs of theſe harmes.

Pemb. The beſt aduile: but who comes poſting here?

Ente

## of King John.

Enter Hubert.

Right noble Lords, I speake vnto you all,
The King entreats your ſoonerſt ſpeed
To viſit him, who on your prefent want,
Did ban and curſe his birth, him ſelſe and me,
For executing of his ſtrict command.
I ſaw his paſſion, and at ſitteſt time,
Aſur'd him of his couſins being ſafe,
Whom pitty would not let me doe to death :
He craues your company my Lord in haſt,
To whom I will conduct young Arthur ſtraight,
Who is in health vnder my cuſtody.

Essex. In health baſe villaine, were't not I leaue the
To Gods reuenge, to whom reuenge belongs, (crime
Here ſhould I thou perſh on my rapiers point.
Caſt thou this health ? such health betide thy friends,
And all that are of thy condition.

Hub. My Lords, but heare me speake, and kill me then,
If here I left not this young Prince aliue,
Maugre the haſty Edict of the King,
Who gaue me charge to put out both his eyes,
That God that gaue me lining to this houre,
Thunder reuenge vpon me in this place :
And as I tendred him with earneſt loue,
So God loue me, and then I ſhall be well.

Sal. Hence traitor hence, thy counſell is herein. Exit. Hub.
Some in this place appointed by the King,
Hauſe throwne him from this lodging here aboue,
And ſure the murther hath beene newly done,
For yet the body is not fully cold.

Essex. How lay you Lords ſhall we with ſpeed dispatch
Vnder our hands a packet into France,
To bid the Dolpin enter with his force,
To claime the kingdome for his proper right,
His title maketh lawfull ſtrength thereto.
Befides, the Pope, on perill of his curſe,

H 2

Hath

P

The troublesome Raigne

Hath bard vs of obedience vnto John,
This hatefull murder, Lewis his true defcent,
The holy charge that we recei'd from Rome,
Are weightie reafons, if you like my reed,
To make vs all perfeuer in this deed.

Pemb. My Lord of Effex, well haue you aduis'd,
I will accord to further you in this.

Salis. And Salisbury will not gainefay the fame :
But aide that courfe as farre forth as he can.

Effex. Then each of vs fend ftraight to his allies,
To win them to this famous enterprife :

And let vs all y clad in Palmers weed,
The tenth of Aprill at S. Edmunds Bury,
Meet to conferre, and on the altar there
Sweare fecrecy and aid to this aduife.
Meane while, let vs conuey this body hence,
And giue him buriall, as befits his state,
Keeping his moneths mind, and his obfecquis
With Solemne intercession for his foule.
How ſay you Lordings, are you all agreed?

Pemb. The tenth of Aprill at S. Edmunds Burie.
God letting not, I will not faile the time.

Effex. Then let vs all conuey the body hence. Exeunt.

Enter K. Iohn, with two or three, and the Prophet.

Ioh. Difturbed thoughts, foredoomers of mine ill,
Diftraeted paffions, fignes of growing harmes,
Strange prophecies of imminent mifhaps,
Confound my wits, and dull my ſenſes ſo,
That every obieſt theſe mine eyes behold,
Seeme instruments to bring me to my end.
Aſſenſion day is come, Iohn ſeare not then
The prodigies that pratling Prophet threats.
Tis come indeed : ah were it fully paſt,
Then were I careſſe of a thouſand ſeares.

The

of King Iohn.

The Diall tels me, it is twelue at noone.
Were twelue at midnight paſt, then might I vaunt,
Fale ſeers propheſies of no import.
Could I as well with this right hand of mine
Remoue the Sunne from our Meridian,
Vnto the mooneſted circle of th'antipodes,
As turne this ſteele from twelue to twelue agen,
Then Iohn, the date offatall Propheſies,
Should with the Prophets life together end.
But multa cadunt inter calicem ſupremaque labra.
Peter, vnſay thy foolish doting dreame,
And by the crowne of England heere I ſweare,
To make thee great, and greateſt of thy kin.

Peter. King Iohn, although the time I haue preſcrib'd
Be but twelue hours remaining yet behind,
Yet doe I know by inſpiration,
Ere that fixt time be fully come about,
King Iohn ſhall not be King as heeretofore.

Iohn. Vaine buzzard, what miſchance can chance ſo
To ſet a King beſide his regall ſeat?
My heart is good, my body paffing ſtrong,
My Land in peace, my enemies ſubdu'd,
Onely my Barons ſtorme at Arthur's death,
But Arthur liues, I, there the challenge growes,
Were he diſpatchd vnto his longeſt home,
Then were the King ſecure of thouſand foes.

Hubert what newes with thee, where are my Lords ?

Hub. Hard newes my Lord, Arthur the louely Prince,
Seeking to eſcape ouer the Caſtle walles,
Fell headlong downe, and in the curſed fall
He brake his bones, and there before the gate
Your barons found him dead and breathleſſe quite.

Ioh. Is Arthur dead? then Hubert without more words
hang the Prophet.

Away with Peter, villaine out of my fight,
I am deafe, be gone, let him not ſpeak a word.

H 3

Now

The troublesome Raigne

Now John, thy fears are vanisht into fmoake,
Arthur is dead, thou guiltlesse of his death, 1
Sweet youth, but that I striued for a crowne,
I could haue well afforded to thine age,
Long life and happinesse to thy content.

Enter the Baſtard.

Ioh. Philip, what newes with thee?

Bast. The newes I heard was Peters prayers,
Who wist like fortune to befall vs all:
And with that word the rope his lateſt friend,
Kept him from falling headlong to the ground.

Ioh. There let him hang, and be the Rauens food,
While John triumphs in ſpite of Propheſies.

But whates the tydings from the Popelings now?
What ſay the Monkes and prieſts to our proceedings?

Or wheres the Barons that ſo fondainly

Did leaue the King vpon a ſalſe furmife?

Bast. The Prelates ſtorme, & thirſt for ſharpe reuenge:

But pleafe your Maieſt, were that the worſt
It little skild: a greater danger growes,
Which muſt be weeded out with carefull ſpeed,
Or all is loſt, for all is leuel at.

Ioh. More frights and ſeares: what ere thy tidings bee,
I am prepar'd, then Philip, quickly ſay,
Meane they to murther or impaſſon me,
To giue my Crowne away to Rome or France:

Or will they each of them become a King?

Worſe than I thinke it is, it cannot be.

Bast. Not worſe my Lord, but euery whit as bad.

The Nobles haue elected Lewis King,
In right of Lady Blanch, your neece, his wife:

His landing is expeſted euery houre,

The Nobles, Commons, Clergie, all Eſtates,

Incited chiefly by the Cardinal

Patt.

of King Iohn.

Pandulph that lies here Legate for the Pope,
Thinke long to ſee their new elected King.

And for vadoubted proofe, ſee heere my Liege,

Letters to me from your Nobility,
To be a partie in this action:

Who vnder ſhew of ſained holinesſe,
Appoint their meeting at S. Edmunds Bury,

There to confult, confpire, and conclude

The ouerthrow and downeſall of your State.

Ioh. Why ſo it muſt be, one houre of content,

Match'd with a moneth of paſſionate effeſts,
Why ſhines the Sunne to ſavour this conſort?

Why doe the windes not breake their brazen gates,
And (catter all theſe periur'd complices,

With all their counſels and their damned drifts?

But ſee the welkin rolleth gently on,

There's not a lowring clowd doth frowne on them;

The heauen, the earth, the ſunne, the moone, and all,
Conſpire with theſe confederates my decay.

Then hell for me, if any power be there,
Forſake that place, and guide me ſtep by ſtep,

To poyſon, ſtrangle, murther in their ſteps

Theſe traytors: oh that name is too good for them,

And death is eafe: is there nothing worſe,

To wreake me on this prowd peace-breaking crew?

What ſayſt thou Philip? why aſiſts thou not?

Bast. Theſe curſes (good my Lord) ſit not the ſeafons
Help muſt deflect from heauen againſt this treaſon?

Ioh. Nay, thou wilt proue a traytor with the reſt,
Goe get thee to them, ſhame come to you all.

Bast. I would be loth to leaue you Highneſſe thus,
Yet you command, and I, though grieu'd, will goe.

Ioh. Ah Philip, whither go'ſt thou? come againe.

Bast. My Lord, theſe motions are as paſſions of a mad

Ioh. A mad man Philip, I am mad indeed, (man

My heart is maz'd, my fences all foredone,

And

The troublesome Raigne

And John of England now is quite vndone.
Was euer King as I opprest with cares?
Dame Elinor my noble mother Queene,
My onely hope and comfort in distresse,
Is dead, and England Excommunicate,
And I am interdicted by the Pope,
All Churches curst, their dores are sealed vp,
And for the pleasure of the Romish Priest,
The feruice of the Highest is neglected,
The multitude (a beast of many heads)
Doe with confusion to their loueraigne;
The Nobles blinded with abitions fumes,
A flemble powers to beate mine Empire downe,
And more than this, elect a forreine King.
O England, wert thou euer miserable,
King John of England fees thee miserable:
John, tis thy finnes that makes it miserable,
Quisquid delirunt Reges plestuntur Achini.
Philip, as thou haft euer lou'd thy King,
So show it now: poft to S. Edmunds-Bury,
Diffemble with the Nobles, know their drifts,
Confound their diuilith plots and damn'd deuiles.
Though John be faultie, yet let subjeets beare,
He will amend and right the peoples wrongs.
A mother though she were vnnatural,
Is better then the kindest step-dame is:
Let neuer Englishman truft forreine rule.
Then Philip shew thy fealty to the King,
And mongs the Nobles plead thou for the King.
Baft. I goe my Lord: see how he is diftraught,
This is the curfed Priest of Italy
Hath heap'd these mischiefes on this haplesse Land.
Now Philip, hadst thou Tullies eloquence,
Then mightst thou hope to plead with good succeſſe.
Ioh. And art thou gone? succeſſe may follow thee:
Thus haſt thou shew'd thy kindneſſe to the King.

Sirra,

of King Ioh.

of King John.

Sirra, in haſt goe greet the Cardinall,
Pandulph I meane, the Legat from the Pope.
Say that the King defires to ſpeake with him.
Now John bethinke thee how thou maſt refolue:
And if thou wilt continue Englands King,
Then caſt about to keepe thy Diademe;
For life and land, and all is leuelp'd at.
The Pope of Rome, tis he that is the cauſe,
He curſeth thee he sets thy ſubjeets free
From due obedience to their Soueraigne :
He animates the Nobles in their warres,
He giues away the Crown to Philips ſonne,
And pardons all that ſeeke to murther thee :
And thus blind zeale is ſtill predominant.
Then John there is no way to keepe thy Crowne,
But finely to diſſemble with the Pope:
That hand that gaue the wound muſt giue the falue,
To cure the hurr,elfe quite incurable.
Thy finnes are farre too great to be the man
T'abolith Pope, and Popery from thy Realme :
But in thy ſeate, if I may guetle at all.
A King shall raigne, that shall ſupprefſe them all.
Peace John, here comes the Legate of the Pope,
Diffemble thou, and whatſoere thou faſſt;
Yet with thy heart withs their confuſion.

Enter Pandulph.

Pan. Now John, vnworthy man to breath on earth,
That doſt oppugne against thy mother Church :
Why am I ſent for to thy curſed ſelſe?

Ioh. Thou man of God, Vicegerent for the Pope,
The holyle Vicear of S. Peters Church,
Vpon my knees, I pardon craue of thee,
And doe submit me to the ſea of Rome,
And vow for penance of my high offence,

I

To

The troublesome Raigne

To take on me the holy Croſſe of Chriſt,
And carry Armes in holy Chriſtian warres.

Pand. No Iohn, thy crowching and diſſembling thus
Cannot deceive the Legate of the Pope,
Say what thou wilt, I will not credite thee :
Thy Crowne and Kingdome both are tane away,
And thou art curſt without redemption.

Ioh. Accurſt indeed to kneele to such a drudge,
And get no helpe with my ſubmiſſion,
Vnſheath thy ſword and ſlay the miſprowd Prieſt
That thus triumphs ore thee a mightie King :
No Iohn, ſubmit againe, diſſemble yet,
For Prieſts and Women muſt be flattered.
Yet holy Father thou thy ſelfe doſt know,
No time too late for finners to repent,
Abloue me then, and Iohn doth ſweare to doe
The vttermoſt what euer thou demandſt.

Pand. Iohn, now I fee thy hearty penitence,
I rue and pitty thy diſtrefſt eſtate,
One way is left to reconcile thy ſelfe,
And onely one which I ſhall ſhow to thee.
Thou muſt ſurrender to the ſea of Rome
Thy Crowne and Diadem, then ſhall the Pope
Defend thee from th'innuſion of thy foes.
And where his Holiuerſe hath kindled France,
And ſet thy ſubieſts hearts at warre with thee,
Then ſhall he curſe thy foes and beate them downe,
That feeke the discontentment of the King.

Ioh. From bad to worſe, or I muſt looſe my Realme,
Or giue my Crowne for penance vnto Rome :
A miſery more piercing then the darts
That breake from burning exhaltations power.
What ſhall I giue my Crowne with this right hand?
No: with this hand defend thy Crowne and thee.
What newes with thee?

Enter

of King Iohn.

Enter Messenger.

Please it your Maiestie, there is deſcribed on the coast of Kent an hundred Sayle of Shippes, which of all men is thought to be the French fleet, vnder the conduct of the Dolphin, so that it puts the country in a mutiny, fo they fend to your Grace for ſuccour.

K. Ioh. How now Lord Cardinall, what's your beſt ad-
These mutinies muſt be allaid in time,
By policy or headſtrong rage at leaſt.

(uife?

O Iohn, theſe troubles tyre thy wearied ſoule,
And like to Luna in a ſad Eclipse,
So are thy thoughts and paſſions for this newes.
Well may it be, when Kings are grieued ſo,
The vulgar ſort worke Princes ouerthrow.

Card. K. Iohn, for not effecting of thy plighted vow,
This ſtrange annoyance happens to thy Land :
But yet be reconcil'd vnto the Church,
And nothing ſhall be grieuous to thy ſtate.

Ioh. Oh Pandulph, be it as thou haſt decreed,
Iohn will not ſpurne againſt thy ſound aduife,
Come lets away, and with thy helpe I trow,
My Realme shall flourifh, and my Crowne in peace.

Enter the nobles, Pembrooke, Effex, Cheſter, Bew-
champe, Clare, with others.

Pemb. Now ſweet S. Edmund, holy Saint in heauen,
Whofe Shrine is ſacred, high eſteem'd on earth,
Inſuſe a conſtant zealein all our hearts,
To ſproſcute this aſt of mickle weight,
Lord Bewchampe ſay, what friends haue you procur'd?

Bewch. The L. Fitz-Water, L. Percy, and L. Reſſe,
Vow'd meeting here this day the lenenth houre.

Effex. Vnder the cloke of holy pilgrimage,

By

12

The trouble some Raigne

By that fame houre on warrant of their faith,
Philip Plantaginet, a bird of swiftest wing,
Lord Enstauce, Vefcy, Lord Cressy, and Lord Mowbery,
Appointed meeting at S. Edmunds shrine.

Pemb. Vntill their prefence, Ile conceale my tale,
Sweetes complices in holy Chriftian acts,
That venture for the purchase of renowne,
Thrice welcome to the league of high refolue,
That pawne their bodies for their foules regard.

Effex. Now wanteth but the reft to end this worke,
In Pilgrimes habite comes our holy tronpe
A furlong hence, with swift vnwoonted pace,
May be they are the perſons you expect.

Pemb. With swift vnwoonted gate, see what a thing is
That spurs them on with feruence to this ſhrine, (zeale,
Now ioy come to them for their true intent :
And in good time, here come the war-men all,
That fweate in body by the minds diſeaſe :
Hap and hearts-eaſe braue Lordings be your lot.

Enter the Baſtard Philip, &c.

Amen my Lords, the like betide your lucke,
And all that trauell in a Chriſtian cauſe.

Effex, Cheerely repl'd braue branch of Kingly ſtocke,
A right Plentaginet should reaſon so.

But ſilence Lords attend your commings cauſe :
The ſeruile yoke that pained vs with toyle,
On ſtrong inſtinct hath fram'd this conduenticle,
To eafe our neckes of ſeruitudes contempt.
Should I not name the ſoeman of our reſt,
Which of you all ſo barren in conceite,
As cannot leuell at the man I meane ?
But left Enigm's ſhadow ſhining truth,
Plainely to paint, as truth requires no art.

The ſeffe of this reſort importeth this,
To roote and cleane extirpate tyrant Ioh,
Tyrant I ſay, appealing to the man,

If

of King John.

If any here that loues him, and I aske,
What kindſhip, lenitie, or chriſtian raigne,
Rules in the man to barre this foule impeach?

First I inferre the Cheſters banifhment:
For reprehending in moſt vnchriſtian crimes,
Was ſpeciall notice of a tyrants will.

But were this all, the diuell should be ſau'd,
But this the leaſt of many thouſand faults,
That circumſtance with ley ſure might diſplay.

Our priuare wrongs no parcell of my tale
Which now in prefence, but for ſome great cauſe
Might wifh to him as to a mortall foe.

But ſhall I close the period with an aſt
Abhorring in the cares of Chriſtian men:

His couſins death, that sweet vn guilty childe,
Vntimely butcherd by the tyrants meanes,
Heere are my proofes as cleere as grauell brooke,
And on the fame I further muſt inferre,

That who vpholds a tyrant in his courſe,
Is culpable of all his damned guilt.

To ſhew the which is yet to be defcrib'd.
My Lord of Pembrooke, ſhew what is behinde,
Onely I ſay, that were there nothing eſſe
To moue vs, but the Popes moſt dreadfull courſe,

Whereof we are aſſured, if wee ſaile,
It were enough to inſtigate vs all,

With earneſtneſſe of ſpirit, to ſeeke a meane
To diſpoſe ſſſe Ioh of his regiment.

Pemb. Well hath my Lord of Eſſe x told his tale,
Which I auerre for moſt ſubſtantiall truth,
And more to make the matter to our minde,
I ſay that Lewis in challenge of his wife,
Hath title of an vncontrouled plea,
To all that longeth to our English crowne.
Short tale to make, the Sea Apoſtolike,
Hath offered diſpenſation for the fault.

I 3

If

The troublesome Raigne

If any be, as trust me none I know,
By planting Lewis in the Vfurpers roome:
That is the cause of all our prefence here,
This on the holy Altar we protest,
To aide the right of Lewis with goods and life,
Who on our knowledge is in armes for England.
What say you Lords?

Sal. As Pembrooke faith, affirmeth Salisbury:
Faire Lewis of France that spouſed Lady Blanch,
Hath title of an vncontrouled ſtrength
To England, and what longeth to the Crowne:
In right whereof, as we are true inform'd,
The Prince is marching hitherward in armes.
Our purpofe, to conclude that with a word,
Is to inueſt him as we may deuife,
King of our countrey, in the tyrants ſtead:
And fo the warrant on the Altar ſworne,
And fo the intent for which we hither came.

Baff. My Lord of Salisbury, I cannot couch
My ſpeeches with the needfull words of art,
As doth beſeeme in ſuch a waighty worke,
But what my confidence and my duty will,
I purpofe to impart.
For Cheſters exile, blame his bufſe wit,
That medled where his duty quite forbade:
For any private cauſes that you haue,
Me thinkes they ſhould not mount to ſuch a height,
As to depoſe a King in their reuenge.
For Arthurs death, K. John was innocent,
He desperate was the deathſman to himselfe,
Which you, to make a colour to your crime,
Vniuſtly doe i npute to his default.
But where ſel Traitor is, me hath reſidence,
There wants no words to ſet deſpight on worke.
I ſay tis ſhame, and worthy all reproofe,
To wreſt ſuch petty wrongs in tearmes of right,

Againſt

of King John.

Againſt a King annointed by the Lord.
Why Salisburie admit the wrongs are true,
Yet ſubieſts may not take in hand reuenge,
And rob the heauens of their proper power,
Where ſitteth hee to whom reuenge belongs.
And doth a Pope, a Prieft, a man of pride,
Giue charters for the liues of lawfull Kings,
What can he bleſſe, or who regards his curſe,
But ſuch as giue to man, and take from God?
I ſpeake it in the fight of God aboue,
Theres not a man that dyes in your beleeſe,
But ſels his ſoule perpetually to paine.
Aid Lewis, leaue God, kill John, pleaſe hell,
Make hauock of the welfare of your ſoules,
For heere I leaue you in the fight of heauen,
A troope of traytors food for helliſh ſiends;
If you deſiſt, then follow me as friends,
If not then doe your worſt as hatefull traytors.
For Lewis his right, alas tis too too lame,
A ſenſeſſe claime, if truth bee titles friend.
In briefe if this be cauſe of our reſort,
Our pilgrimage is to the Diuels ſhrine.
I came not Lords to troupe as traytors doe,
Nor will I counſell in ſo bad a cauſe:
Pleaſe you returne, we goe againe as friends,
If not, I to my King, & you where traitors pleaſe. Exit.
Percie. A hot young man, and ſo my Lords proceed,
I let him goe, and better loſt than found.
Pemb. What ſay you Lords, will all the reſt proceed,
Will you all with me ſware vpon the Alter,
That you? to death, bee aid to Lewis and enemy to John?
Every man lay his hand by mine, in witnes of his harts ac-
Well then, every man to armes to meet the King, (cord.
Who is already before London.

Enter Messenger.

Pemb. What newes Herald?

the

## The troublesome Raigne

The right Christian Prince my master, Lewis of France,
is at hand, comming to visit your Honours, directed hither
by the right honourable Richard Earle of Bigot, to con-
ferre with your honours.

Pemb. How neere is his Highnesse?

Mef. Ready to enter your presence.

Enter Lewis, Earle Bigot, with his troupe.

Lew. Faire Lords of England, Lewis salutes you all.
As friends, and firme wellwillers of his weale,
At whose request from plenty-flowing France,
Crossing the Ocean with a Southerne gale,
He is in person come at your commands,
To vndertake and gratifie withall,

The fulnesse of your fauours proffered him.

But worlds braue men omitting promises,

Till time be minifter of more amends,

I muft acquaint you with our fortunes course.

The heauens dewing fanours on my head,

Hauë in their conduct safe with victory,

Brought me along your well manured bounds,

With small repulſe, and little croſle of chance.

Your City Rochester with great applaſe,

By some diuine inſiinſt laid armes afide.

And from the hollow holes of Thameſis,

Eccho apace repl'd, Vinc la Roy,

From thence along the wanton rowling glade

To Troynouant, your faire Metropolis,

With lucke came Lewis to shew his troopes of France,

Wawing our Enſignes with the dallying winds,

The fearefull obiect of ſell flowning warre,

Where after some afflant, and ſmall defence,

Heauens may I tay, and not my warlike troupe,

Tempred their hearts to take a friendly foe

Within the compaffe of their highbuilt wals,

Giuing me title, as it seemd they with,

Thus

## of King John.

Thus fortune (Lords) acts to your forwardnesse,

Meanes of content, in lieu of former griekε:

And may I lie but to requite you all,

Worlds with were mine in dying noted yours.

Salis. Welcomè the balme that cloſeth vp our wounds,

The foureraigne medcine for our quick recure,

The anchor of our hope, the only prop,

Whereon depends our liues, our lands, our weale,

Without the which, as sheepe without their heard,

(Except a shepheard wincking at the wolfe)

We stray, we pine, we run to thousand harmes,

No maruell then, though with vnwonted joy,

We welcome him that beateth woes away.

Lew. Thanks to you all of this religious League,

A holy knot of Catholicke confent.

I cannot name you Lordings, man by man,

But like a ſtranger vnacquainted yet,

In generall I promife faithful full loue:

Lord Bigot brought me to S Edwards shrine,

Giuing me warrant of a Christian oath,

That this afflernby came deuoted heere,

To ſweare according as your packets flow'd,

Homage and loyall ſeruice to our ſelſe,

I need not doubt the ſuretie of your wills,

Since well I know for many of your ſakes,

The Townes haue yeelded on their owne accords:

Yet for a fashion, not for misbeliſe,

My eyes muſt witneſſe, and theſe eares muſt heare

Your oath vpon the holy Altar ſworne,

And after march to end our commings cauſe.

Salis. That we intend no other then good truth,

All that are preſent of the holy league,

For confirmation of our better truſt,

In preſence of his Highneſſe, ſweare with me,

The ſequel that my ſelſe ſhall vttter heere.

K

I Thomas

The troublesome Raigne

I Thomas Plantaginet, Earle of Salisbury, sweare vpon
the Altar, and by the holy army of Saints, homage and al-
legance to the right Christian Prince Lewis of France, as
true and rightfull King to England, Cornewall, and Wales,
and to their territories: in the defence whereof, I vpon the
holy Altar sweare all forwardnesse. All the Eng. Lo. sweare.
As the noble Earle hath sworne, so sweare we all,

Lewis. I left affured on your holy oath,

And on this Altar in like fort I sweare

Loue to you all and Princely recompence

To gnerdon your good wills vnto the full.

And since I am at this religious wrine,

My good welwillers gine vs leaue awhile,

To vfe some Orisons our felues apart,

To all the holy company of Heauen,

That they will smile vpon our purpoles,

And bring them to a fortunate euent.

Salis. We leaue your Highneſſe to your good intent.

Exeunt Lords of England.

Lew. Now Vicount Meloun, what remaines behind?
Trust me these Traytors to their Soueraigne State,
Are not to be beleeu'd in any fort.

Meloun. Indeed my Lord, they that infringe their oths,
And play the Rebels gainſt their native King,
Will for as little caufe revolt from you,
If euer opportunity incite them so:

For once forsworne, and neuer after found,
There's no affiance after periury.

Lew. Well Meloun, well, lets smooth with them a while,

Vntill we haue as much as they can doe:

And when their vertue is exhaled drie,

He hang them for the guerdon of their helpe:

Meane while weele vſe them as a pretious poyſon,

To vndertake the illuſe of our hope.

Fr. Lo. Tis policy (my Lord) to bait our hookes

With merry ſmiles, and promise of much weight:

But

of King Iohn.

But when your Highneſſe needeth them no more.
Tis good make ſure worke with them, left indeede
They proue to you as to their naturall King.

Meloun. Trust mee my Lord, right well haue you ad-

Venome for vſe, but neuer for a ſport

(uſide;

Is to be dallied with, left it inſpect.

Were you inſtald, as soone I hope you ſhall :

Be free from traitors, and diſpatch them all.

Lewis, That so I meane, I ſweare before you all

On this fame Alter, and by heauens power,

There's not an English traitor of them all,

Iohn once diſpatcht, and I faire Englands King,

Shall on his shoulders beare his head one day,

But I will crop it for their guilts deſert :

Nor ſhall their heires enioy their Seigniories,

But perſh by their parents foule amiffes.

This haue Iſworne, and this will I performe,

If ere I come vnto the height I hope.

Lay downe your hands and sſweare the fame with me.

The French Lords sſweare.

Why so, now call them in, and ſpeake them faire,
A ſmile of France will feed an English ſoole.

Beare them in hand as friends for so they be:

But in the heart like traytors as they are.

Enter the English Lords.

Now famous followers, chiefetanes of the world,

Haue we ſolicited with hearty prayer

The heauen in fauour of our high attempt.

Leane we this place, and march we with our power

To rouse the tyrant from his chiefef hold :

And when our labours haue a profous end,

Each man ſhall reape the fruit of his deſert.

And ſo reſolu'd, braue followers let vs hence.

K 2

Enter

The troublesome Raigne

Enter K.Iohn, Baftard, Pandulph, and many Priests with them.

Thus John, thou art absolved from all thy sinnes,
And freed by order of our Fathers curfe.

Receive thy Crowne againe with this prouiso,
That thou remaine true liegeman to the Pope,
And carry armes in right of holy Rome.

John. I hold the fame as tenant to the Pope,

And thanke your holinesse for your kindnesse shewne.

Philip. A proper left, when Kings must stoop to Friers,
Need hath no law, when Friers must be Kings.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Please it your Maieſtie, the Prince of France,
With all the Nobles of you Graces Land
Are marching hitherward in good array.

Where ere they fet their foot, all places yeeld:
Thy Land is theirs, and not a foot holds out
But Douer Castle which is hard beſied.

Pan. Feare not King John, thy kingdome is the Popes,
And they shall know his Holinesse hath power,
To beate them soone from whence he hath to doe.

Drums and Trumpets. Enter Lewis, Melun, Salisbury,
Eſſex, Pembrooke, and all the Nobles from

France and England.

Lewis. Pandulph, as gaue his Holinesſe in charge,
So hath the Dolphin muſt red vp his troupes,
And wonne the greatest part of all this Land.
But ill becomes your Grace Lord Cardinall,
Thus to conuerſe with John that is accuraſt.

Pando.

of King Iohn.

Pan, Lewis of France, victorious Conqueror,
Whole ſword hath made this Iland quake for ſcare;
Thy forwardneſſe to fight for holy Rome,
Shall be re munerated to the full :

But know my Lord, K. John is now absolued,
The Pope is pleas'd the Land is bleſt agen,
And thou haſt brought each thing to good effect.
It lefteth then that thou withdraw thy powers,
And quietly returne to France againe,
For all is done the Pope would with thee doe.

Lewis. But als not done that Lewis came to doe.
Why Pandulph, hath King Philip ſent his ſonne
And beene at ſuch exceſſue charge in warres,
To be diſmift with words? King John shall know,
England is mine, and he vſurps my right

Pand. Lewis I charge and thy, complices
Vpon the paine of Pandulphs holy curſe,
That thou withdraw thy powers to France againe,
And yeeld vp London and the neighbour townes
That thou haſt taue in England by thy ſword.

Melun. Lord Cardinall by Lewis princely leaue,
It can be nought but vſurpation
In thee, the Pope, and all the Church of Rome,
Thus to infult on Kings of Chriſtendome,
Now with a word to make them cary armes,
Then with a word to make them leaue their armes.
This muſt not be: Prince Lewis keepe thine owne,
Let Pope and Popelings curſe their bellies full.

Baſt. My Lord of Melun, what title had the Prince
To England and the Crowne of Albion,
But such a title as the Pope confirm'd:

The Prelate now lets fall his faſned claime:

Lewis is but the agent for the Pope,
Then muſt the Dolphin ceaſe, ſith he hath ceaſt:

But ceaſe or no, it greatly matters not,

If you my Lords and Barons of the Land

K. 3

Will

The troublesome Raigne

Will leaue the French, and cleaue vnto our King.
For shame yee Peeres of England suffer not
Your felues, your honours, and your Land to fall;
But with refolued thoughts beate backe the French,
And free the land from yoke of feruitude.

Salis. Philip not so, Lord Lewis is our King.
And we will follow him vnto the death.

Pand. Then in the name of Innocent the Pope,
I curfe the Prince and all that take his part,
And excommunicate the rebell Peeres,
As traytors to the King and to the Pope.

Lew. Pandulph, our fwords shal bleſſe our ſelues agen:
Prepare thee John, Lords follow me your King. Exeunt.

John. Accurſed John the Diuell owes thee ſhame,
Reſifting Rome, or yeelding to the Pope, all's one.
The Diuell take the Pope, the Peeres, and France:
Shame be my ſhare for yeelding to the Priſt.

Pand. Comfort thy ſelfe King John, the Cardinall goes
Vpon his curſe to make them leaue their armes. Exet.

Baſt. Comfort my Lord, and curſe the Cardinall,
Betake your ſelfe to armes, my troupes are preſt

To anſwer Lewis with a lufky ſhocke:
The English Archers haue their quiuers full,
Their bowes are bent, the pikes are preſt to push:
Good cheere my Lord, King Richards fortune hangs
Vpon the plume of warlike Philips helme.
Then let them know his brother and his ſonne
Are leaders of the Englishmen at armes.

John. Philip I know not how to anſwer thee:
But let vs hence, to anſwer Lewis pride,

Excursions. Enter Meloun with English Lord.
Mel. O I am flaine, Nobles, Salisbury, Pembroke,
My ſoule is charged, heare me: for what I say
Concernes the Peeres of England, and their State.

Listen

of King John.

Liften, braue Lords, a fearfull mourning tale
To be deliuered by a man of death.

Behold these fearres the dole of bloudy Mars
Are harbingers from natures common foe,

Citing this truncke to Tellus prison-house;
Lifes charter (Lordings) laſtet not an houre:

And fearfull thoughts forerunners of my end,
Bids me giue Phisicke to a ſickly ſoule,

O Peeres of England, know you what you doe?
There's but a hayre that funders you from harme,
The hooke is baited, and the traine is made,
And ſimply you run doting to your deaths.

But left I dye and leaue my tale vntole,
With ſilence slaughtering so braue a crew.

This Iauerre, if Lewis win the day,
There's not an Englishman that lifts his hand

Againſt King John to plant the heire of France,
But is already damnd to cruell death.

I heard it vow'd my ſelfe amongſt the reſt
Swore on the Altar ayde to this Edict.

Two cauſes Lords, makes me diſplay this drift,
The greatest for the freedome of my ſoule,

That longs to leaue this manſion free from guilt
The other on a naturall inflinct,

For that my Grandſire was an Englishman.

Misdoubt not Lords the truth of my diſcourse,
No frenzie nor no brainſicke idle ſit,

But well aduis'd, and wotting what I ſay,
Pronounce I here before the face of heauen,

That nothing is diſcouered but a truth.

Tis time to flye, submit your ſelues to John,
The imiles of France ſhade in the frownes of death.

Lift vp your ſwords, turne face againſt the French,
Expell the yoke thats framed for your necks.

Backe warremen, backe, imbowell not the clime,

Your iate, your nurſe, your birthdaies breathing place,
That

The troublesome Raigne

That bred you, beares you, brought you vp in armes,
Ah: be not so ingrate to diggey our mothers graue,
Preferue your lambes and beat away the wolfe.

My foule hath said contritions penitence

Layes hold on mans redemption for my sinne. (heauen,
Farewell my Lords; witneſt my faith when we are met in

And for my kindneſſe giue me graue-roome heere.

My foule doth fleet, worlds vanities farewell.

Salf. Now ioy betide thy foule well-meaning man,
How now my Lords, what cooling card is this ?

A greater griefe growes now then earſt hath beene.

What counſell giue you, ſhall we ſtay and dye?

Or ſhall we home and kneele vnto the King.

Pemb. My heart miſgaue this ſad accuſed newes:

What haue we done? ſie Lords what frenzie moon'd
Our hearts to yeeld vnto the pride of France?

If we perſeuer we are ſure to dye:

If we deſiſt, ſmall hope againe of life.

Salisb. Beare hence the body of this wretched man,
That made vs wretched with his dying tale
And ſtand not wailing on our preſent harmes,

As women wont: but ſeeke our harmes redreſſe.

As for my ſelſe, I will in haſt be gone :

And kneele for pardon to our Soueraigne Iohn.

Pemb. I, there's the way, lets rather kneele to him,

Than to the French that would confound vs all. Exeunt.

Enter King Iohn carried betweene two Lords.

Iohn. Set downe, set downe the loade not worth your

For done I am with deadly wounding grieſe: (paine,

Sickly and ſuccourleſſe, hopeleſſe of any good,

The world hath wearied me, and I haue wearied it:

It loathes I liue, I liue and loath my ſelſe.

Who pities me to whom haue I beene kinde?

But to a few; a few will pitie me.

Why die I not? Death ſcornes so vilde a prey.

Why

of King Iohn.

Why liue I not, life hates ſo ſad a prize.

I ſue to both to be retaint of either,

But both are deafe, I can be heard of neither.

Nor death nor life, yet life and nere the neere,

Ymixt with death, biding I wot not where.

Phil. How fares my Lord, that hee is carried thus?

Not all the aukward fortunes yet be ſalue,

Made ſuch impreſsion of lament in me.

Nor euer did my eye attaint my heart

With any obieſt mouing more remorſe,

Than now, beholding of a mighty King,

Borne by his Lords in ſuch diſtrefled Sate.

Ioh. What newes with thee, if bad, report it straight;

If good be mute, it doth but flatter me.

Phil. Such as it is and heauy though it be,

To glut the world with tragicke Elegies,

Once will I breath to aggrauate the reſt,

Another moane to make the meaſure full.

The brauſt bow-man had not yet ſent forth

Two arrowes from the quiuer at his ſide,

But that a rumor went throughout our Campe,

That Ioh was ſled, the King had left the field.

At laſt the rnmor ſcal'd these eares of mine,

Who rather chofe, as ſacrifice for Mars,

That ignominious ſcandall by retire.

I cheer'd the troupes, as did the Prince of Troy

His weary followers gainſt the Mirmidons,

Crying aloud, S. George, the day is ours.

But ſeare hath captiuated courage quite,

And like the Lambe before the greedy Wolſe,

So heartleſſe ſled our war-men from the field.

Short tale to make, my ſelſe amongst the reſt,

Was ſaine to ſlie before the eager ſoe.

By this time night had ſhadowed all the earth,

With ſable curtaines of the blackeſt hue.

And ſene'd vs from the fury of the French,

I.

As

The troublefome Raigne

As Jo from the icalous Iunoes eye,
When in the morning our troupe's did gather head.
Pafling the wathes with our carriages,
The impartial tide deadly and inexorable,
Came raging in with billowes threatening death,
And flallowed vp the most of all our men,
My ſelfe vpon a Galloway right free, well pa'd,
Outstrip'd the flouds that followed wae by wae,
I ſo eſcap'd to tell this tragicke tale.

Griefe vpon griefe, yet none ſo great a griefe.
To end this life, and thereby rid my griefe.
Was euer any ſo inſortunate,
The right Idea of a curſed man.

As I, poore I, a triumph for deſpight,
My ſeuer growes, what ague flakes me ſo?
How farre to Swinſtead, tell me, doe you know?
Praſent vnto the Abbot word of my repaire.
My ſickneſſe rages, to tyrannize vpon me,
I cannot line vnleſſe this ſeuer leaue me.

Phil. Good cheere my Lord, the Abbey is at hand,
Behold my Lord, the Churchmen come to meet you.
Enter the Abbot and certaine Monks.

Abb. All health & happines to our Soueraigne Lord the
John. Nor helpe nor happineſſe hath John at all. (King
Say Abbot, am I welcome to thy houſe ?

Abb. Such welcome as our Abbey can afford,
Your Maiefly shall be affured of.

Philip. The King thou ſeeft is weake and very faint,
What victuals haſt thou to reſource his Grace?

Abb. Good ſtore my Lord, of that you need not ſeare,
For Lincolnshire, and theſe our Abbey grounds
Were neuer fatter nor in better plight.

John. Philip, thou neuer need it to doubt of cates,
Nor King nor Lord is ſeated halſe ſo well,
As are the Abbe's throughout all the Land,
If any plot of ground do paffe another,

The

of King John.

The Friars faſten on it ſtraight:
But let vs into taſte of their repaſt,
It goes againſt my heart to feed with them,
Or be beholding to ſuch Abbey grooms.

Exeunt.

Manet the Monke.

Monke. Is this the King that neuer lou'd a Frier?
Is this the man that doth contemne the Pope?
Is this the man that robd the holy Church,
And yet will flie vnto a Friory?
Is this the King that aymes at Abbeis Lands?
Is this the man whom all the world abhorres,
And yet will flie vnto a Friory?
Accurſt be Swinſtead Abbey, Abbot, Friars,
Monkes, Nunnes, and Clarkes, and all that dwell therein,
If wicked John eſcape aliuie away.

Now if that thou wilt looke to merit heauen,
And be canoniz'd for a holy Saint:
To pleafe the world with a deſeruing worke,
Be thou the man to ſet thy countrey free,
And murder him that ſeekeſſe to murder thee.

Enter the Abbot.

Abb. Why are not you within to cheere the King?
He now begins to mend, and will to meate.

Monke. What if I ſay to ſtrangle him in his ſleepe?

Abb. What, at thy Mumpsimus? away,
And ſeeke ſome meanes for to paſtine the King.
Monke. Ile ſet a dudgeon dagger at his heart,
And with a mallet knocke him on the head.

Abb. Alas what meanes this Monke to murder me?
Dare lay my life hee'l kill me for my place,

Monke. Ile poyſon him and it ſhall ne're be knowne,
And then ſhall I be chiefeſt of my houſe.

Abb. If I were dead indeed he is the next,
But Ile away, for why the Monke is mad,
And in his madneſſe he will murdeſr me.

L a

Monke.

The troublesome Raigne

Monke, My L.I cry your Lordship mercie, I saw you not.
Abbot, Alas good Thomas do not murther me, and thou
shalt haue my place with thousand thankes.

Mon. I murder you! God shield from such a thought.

Ab. If thou wilt needes, yet let me say my prayers.

Mon. I will not hurt your Lordship good my Lord,
but if you pleafe, I will impart a thing that shall be benefi-
ciall to vs all.

Ab. Wilt thou not hurt me holy Monke ? say on.

Mon. You know my Lord, the King is in our house.

Ab. True.

Mon. You know likewise the King abhorres a Frier.

Ab. True.

Mon. And he that loues not a Frier is our enemy.

Ab. Thou faift true.

Mon. Then the King is our enemy.

Ab. True.

Mon. Why then should we not kill our enemy, and the
King being our enemy, why then should we not kill the Ki

Ab. O blessed Monke ! I see God moues thy minde to
free this land from tyrants slauery.

But who dare venter for to doe the deed ?

Mon. Who dare ? why I my Lord dare doe the deed,
Ile free my Countrey and the Church from foes,
And merit heauen by killing of a King.

Ab. Thomas kneele downe, and if thou art resolu'd,
I will abfolue thee here from all thy finnes,
For why the deed is meritorious.

Forward, and feare not man, for euery month,
Our Friars shall sing a Maffe for Thomas foule.

Mon. God and S. Francis prosper my attempt,
For now my Lord I goe about my worke.

Enter Lewis and his Armie.

Lewis, Thus victory in bloody Lawrell clad,
Follows the fortune of young Ladoike,
The Englishmen as daunted at our fight,

Exeunt

Fall

of King Iohn.

Fall as the fowle before the Eagles eyes,
Onely two croffes of contrary change
Doc nip my heart, and vex me with vnreft.

Lord Meluns death, the one part of my foule,
A brauer man did neuer liue in Fraunce.

The other griefe, I, that's a gall indeed,
To thinke that Douer Castle should hold out
Gainst all affaults, and reft impregnable.

Yee warrelike race of Francus Hestori Sonne,
Triumph in conqueſt of that tyrant Iohu,
The better halfe of England is our owne:

And towards the conqueſt of the other part
We have the face of all the English Lords,
What then remaines but ouerrunne the land ?

Be refolute my warrelike followers,
And if good fortune ferue as she begins,

The pooreft pefant of the realme of France
Shall be a maſter ore an English Lord.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Lewis, Fellow, what newes ?

Meff. Pleaſeth your Grace, the Earle of Salisbury, Pem-
brooke, Eſſex, Clare, and Arundell, with all the Barons that
did fight for thee, are on a ſudden ſed with all their pow-
ers, to ioyne with John, to driue thee backe againe.

Enter another Meſſenger.

Meff. Lewis, my Lord, why standst thou in a maze ?
Gather thy troupes, hope not of helpe from Fraunce,
For all thy forces being fiftie ſaile,

Containing twenty thousand ſouldiers,
With victuall and munition for the warre,
Putting them from Callice in vnlucky time,
Did croſſe the seas, and on the Goodwin ſands,
The men, munition, and the ſhips are loſt.

Enter another meſſenger.

Lewis, More newes ? say on.

Meff, Iohu (my Lord) with all his ſcattered troupes,

Flying

L 3

The troublesome Raigne

Flying the fury of your conquering sword,

As Pharaoh earst within the bloody fea,

On Lincolne washes all were overwhelmed,
The Barons fled, our forces cast away.

Lew. Was ener heard suchvnexpected newes ?

Melf. Yet Lodowike revine thy dying heart,
King Ioh, and all his forces are consum'd.

The leffe thou needs the aide of English earles,
The leffe thou needst to grieue thy Nauiues wracke,
And follow times aduantage with succefle.

Lewis, Braue Fnenchmen arm'd with magnanimity,
March after Lewis, who will lead you on
To chafe the Barons power that wants a head,
For Ioh is drown'd, and I am Englands King.
Though our munition and our men be loft,
Philip of France will send vs fresh supplies.

Enter two Friers laying a cloth.

Exeunt.

Fr. Dispatch, dispatch, the King desires to eate,
Would a might eat his laft for the loue he beares to church
men.

Fr. I am of thy minde too, and so it should be and we
might be our owne caruers.

I maruell why they dine here in the Orchard.

Fr. I know not, nor I care not. The King comes.

Ioh. Come on Lord Abbot, shall we fit together ?

Ab. Pleaseth your Grace fit downe.

Yoh. Take your places firs, no pompe in penury, all beg-
gers and friendes may come, where Necessitie keepes the
houfe, curteefie is barr'd the table, fit downe Philip.

Baft. My Lord, I am loth to allude so much to the pro-
verb, honors change maners: a King is a King, though For-
tune do her wot, & we as dutifull in despite of her frown,
as if your Highnes were now in the higheft tipe of dignity.

Ioh. Come, no more adoe, and you tell me much of dig-
nity, you'l marre my appetite in a surſet of ſorrow.

What

of King Ioh.

What cheere Lord Abbot, me thinks ye frown like an hoſt
that knows his gueſt hath no money to pay the reckning ?

Ab. No my Liege, if I frowne at all, it is, for I feare
this cheere too homely to entertaine so mighty a gueſt as
your Maieſtie.

Baſt. I thinke rather, my Lord Abbot, you remember
my laſt being here, when I went in progreſſe for powches,
and the rancor of his heart breaks out in his countenance,
to ſhew he hath not forgot me.

Ab. Not so my Lord, you, and the meaneſt follower of
his Maieſtyl, are heartily welcome to me.

Ason. Waffell my Liege, and as a poore Monke may
ſay, welcome to Swinſtead.

Ioh, Begin Monke, and report hereafter thou waſt ta-
ſter to a King. (owne heart.)

Mon. As much health to your Highneſſe as to mine

Ioh. I pledge thee kind Monke. (England.)

Mon. The merriest draught, that euer was drunke in
Am I not too bold with your Highneſſe?

Ioh. Not a whit, all friends and fellowes for a time.

Mon. If the inwards of a toad be a compound of any
proſe : why ſo it workes.

Ioh. Stay Philip, where's the Monke ?

Baſt. He is dead my Lord.

Ioh. Then drinke not Philip for a world of wealth.

What cheere my Liege ? your colour gins to change.

Ioh. So doth my life : O Philip, I am poſſon'd.

The Monke, the Diuell, the poyſon gins to rage,
It will depofe my ſelfe a King from raigne.

Baſt. This Abbot hath an intereſt in this act.
At all aduentures take thou that from me.

There lie the Abbot, Abbey, Lubber, Diuell.

March with the Monke vnto the gates of Hell.

How fares my Lord ?

Ioh. Philip, ſome drinke, oh for the frozen Alpes,
To tumble on and coole, this inward heate,
That rageth as the fornace ſeuen-fold hote.

To

The troublesome Raigne

To burne the holy tree in *Babylon*,
Power after power forfake their proper power,
Only the heart impugnes with faint reſtift
The ſiſce inuade of him that conquers Kings,
Helpe God, O paine: dye *Iohn*, O plague
Inflicted on thee for thy grieuous ſinnes.
*Philip*, a chayre, and by and by a graue,
My legges diſdaine the carriage of a King.

*Baſt*. A good my Liege with Patience conquer grieſe,
And beare this paine with Kingely fortitude.

*Iohu*. Me thinkes I fee a Catalogue of ſinne,
Wrote by a ſiend in marble charaſters,
The leaſt enough to lose my part in heauen.
Me thinkes the Diuell whifpers in mine eares,
And tells me, 'tis in vaine to hope for grace,
I muſt be damn'd for *Arthur's* ſodaine death,
I fee I fee a thouſand thouſand men
Come to accuſe me for my wrong on earth,
And there is none ſo merciſull a God,
That will forgive the number of my ſinnes.

How haue I liu'd, but by anothers loſſe?
What haue I lou'd, but wrack of others weale?
When haue I vow'd, and not inſring'd mine oath?
Where haue I done a deed deſeruing well?
How, what, when, where, haue I beſtow'd a day
That tended not to ſome notorious ill?
My life repleate with rage and tyrannie,
Craues little pitty for ſo ſtrange a death.
Or, who will ſay, that *Iohu* deceaſd too ſoon?
Who will not ſay, he rather liu'd too long.
Difhonour did attaint me in my life,
And fame attendeth *Iohu* vnto his death.
Why did I ſcape the ſury of the French,
And diſed not by the temper of their ſwords?
Shameleſſe my life, and famefully it ends,
Scorn'd by my foes, diſdained of my friends.

Bastard.

of King Iohn.

*Baſt*. Forgiue the world and all your earthly foes,
And call on Chrifiſt, who is your lateſt friend.

*Iohu*. My tongue doth falter: *Philip*, I tell thee man,
Since *Iohu* did yeeld vnto the Prieft of Rome,
Nor he nor his haue proſpred on the earth:
Curiſt are his bleſſings, and his curſe is bliſſe.
But in the ſpirit I cry vnto my God,

As did the Kingely Prophet *David* cry,
(Whofe hands as mine with murther were attaint)
I am not hee ſhall build the Lord a house,
Or roote theſe locuſts from the face of earth:

But if my dying heart deceine me not,
From out theſe loynes ſhall ſpring a Kingely branch,
Whofe armes ſhall reach vnto the gates of Rome,
And with his feet reade downe the Strumpets pride,
That ſits vpon the chayre of *Babylon*.

*Philip*, my heart ſtrings breake, the poy ſons flame
Hath ouercome in me weake natures power,
And in the faith of Iesu *Iohu* doth dye,

*Baſt*. See how he ſtrines for life, vnhappy Lord,
Whofe bowels are diuſed in themſelues.
This is the fruit of Poperye, when trhe Kings
Are ſlaine and ſhouldred out by Monkes and Friers.

*Enter a Meſſenger.*

*Meff*. Pleaſe it your Grace the Barons of the Land,
Which all this while bare armes againſt the King,
Conducted by the Legate of the Pope,
Together with the Prince his Highneſſe ſonne,
Doe craue to be admitted to the prefence of the King.

*Baſt*. Your ſonne, my Lord, young *Henry* craues to ſee
Your Maieſtie, and brings with him befide
The Barons that reuolted from your Grace.
O piercing fight, he ſumbleth in the mouth,
His ſpeech doth faile: lift vp your ſelfe my Lord,
And ſee the Prince to comfort you in death.

M

Enter

The troublesome Raigne

Enter Pandulph, young Henry, the Barons with daggers in their hands.

Prince O let me see my father ere he dye:
O vncle, were you here, and suffiz'd him
To be thus povson'd by a damned Monke?
Ah he is dead, Father, sweet Father speake
Baſt. His speech doth faile, he haſeth to his end.
Pandulph. Lordsgive me leane to ioy the dying King,
With fight of these his Noles kneeling heere.
With daggers in their hands who offer vp
Their liues for ransome of their foule offence.
Then good my Lord if you forgiue them all,
Lift vp your hand in token you forgiue.
Salisb. Wee humbly thanke your royall Maiestie,
And vow to fight for England and her King:
And in the fight of John our Soueraigne Lord,
In pight of Lewis and the power of France,
Who hitherward are marching in all haſte,
We crowne young Henry in his fathers ſtead.
Henry. Helpe, Helpe, he dies; Ah father, looke on me
Legat. K. John farewell in token of thy faith,
And ſigne thou diedſt the ſeruant of the Lord,
Lift vp thy hand, that we may witenſe heere,
Thou diedſt the ſeruant of our Souiour Chriſt.
Now ioy betide thy foule, what noy ſu is this?

Enter a. Messenger.

Meff. Help Lords, the Do'phin maketh hitherward;
With Enſignes of defiance in the winde,
And all our armie ſtandeth at a gaze,
Expecting what their leaders well command.
Baſt. Lets armie our ſelues in young K. Hewries right,
And beate the power of France to Sea againe.

Legate

of King John.

Legate, Philip not so, but I will to the Prince,
And bring him face to face to parley with you.
Baſt. Lord Salisbury, your ſelfe shall march with me,
So shall we bring these troubles to an end.
King, Sweet Vncle, if thou loue thy Soueraigne,
Let not a ſtone of Swinſthead Abbey stand,
But pull the house about the Friars eares:
For they haue kill'd my Father and my King.

Exeunt,

A parley founded, Lewis, Pandulph Salisbury, &c.

Pand. Lewis of France, yong Henry Englands King
Requires to know the reafon of the claime
That thou canſt make to any thing of his.
King John that did offenſe, is dead and gone,
See where his breathleſſe trunke in preſence lies,
And he as heire apparent to the crowne
Is now ſucceded in his fathers roome.

Henry, Lewis, what law of armes doth lead thee thus,
To keepe poſſession of my lawfull right?
Anſwere ; in fine, if thou wilt take a peace,
And make ſurrender of my right againe,
Or trie thy title with the dint of ſword:
I tell thee Dolphin, Henry feares thee not.
For now the Barons cleaue vnto their King,
And what thou haſt in England they did get.

Lewis, Henry of England, now that John is dead,
That was the chiefest enemy to France,
I may the rather be induc'd to peace.
But Salisbury, and you Barons of the Realme,
This ſtrange reuolt agrees not with the oath
That you on Bary Altar lately ſwore.

Salis. Nor did the oath your Highneſſe there did take
Agree with honour of the Prince of France.

Baſt. My Lord, what anſwere make you to the King.

Dolph. Faith Philip this I say : It bootes not him,

Nor

M 2.

The troublesome Raigne

Nor any Prince, nor power of Christendome
To feeke to win this Iland Albion,

Vnleſſe he haue a party in the Realme

By treaſon for to helpe him in his warres.

The Peeres which were the party on my side,
Are fled from me : then bootes not me to fight,
But on conditions, as mine honour wills,
I am contented to depart the Realme.

Hen. On what conditions will your Highnes yeeld ?

Lew. That ſhall we thinke vpon by more aduice.

Bast. Then Kings and Princes, let theſe broiles haue end,
And at more leifure talke vpon the league.

Meane while to Worſer let vs beare the King,
And there interre his body, as beſeemes.

But firſt, in fight of Lewis heire of France,
Lords take the Crowne, and ſet it on his head,
That by ſucceſſion is our lawſull King.

They crowne young Henry.

Thus Englands peace begins in Henries Raigne,
And bloody warres are cloſ'd with happy league.

Let England line but true within it ſelfe,
And all the world can neuer wrong her ſtate.

Lewis, thou ſhalt be brauely ſhipt to France,
For neuer Frenchman got of English ground

The twentith part that thou haſt conquered.

Dolphin thy hand to Worſer we will march :
Lords all, lay hands to beare your Soueraigne

With obſequies of honour to his graue :
If Englands Peeres and people ioyne in one,

Nor Pope, nor France, nor Spaine can doe them wrong.

FINIS.