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  • Title: The Troublesome Reign of King John ((Quarto, 1581))
  • Editor: Karen Oberer

  • Copyright Queen's Men Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: Anonymous
    Editor: Karen Oberer
    Not Peer Reviewed

    The Troublesome Reign of King John ((Quarto, 1581))

    of King Iohn.
    2040The Diall tells me, it is twelue at noone.
    Were twelue at midnight past, then might I vaunt
    False seers prophecies of no import.
    Could I as well with this right hand of mine
    Remoue the Sunne from our Meridian,
    2045Unto the moonsted circle of thantipodes,
    As turne this steele from twelue to twelue agen,
    Then Iohn the date of fatall prophecies
    Should with the Prophets life together end.
    But Multa cadunt inter calicem supremaque labra.
    2050Peter, vnsay thy foolish doting dreame,
    And by the Crowne of England héere I sweare,
    To make thee great, and greatest of thy kin.
    Peter King Iohn, although the time I haue prescribed
    Be but twelue houres remayning yet behinde,
    2055Yet do I know by inspiration,
    Ere that fixt time be fully come about,
    King Iohn shall not be King as heeretofore.
    Iohn Uain buzzard, what mischaunce can chaunce so soone
    To set a King beside his regall seate:
    2060My heart is good, my body passing strong,
    My land in peace, my enemies subdewd,
    Only my Barons storme at Arthurs death,
    But Arthur liues, I there the challenge growes,
    Were he dispatcht vnto his longest home,
    2065Then were the King secure of thousand foes.
    Hubert what news with thée, where are my Lords?
    Hubert Hard newes my Lord, Arthur the louely Prince
    Seeking to escape ouer the Castle walles,
    Fell headlong downe, and in the cursed fall
    2070He brake his bones, and there before the gate
    Your Barons found him dead, and breathlesse quite.
    Iohn Is Arthur dead? then Hubert without more words
    hang the Prophet.
    Away with Peter, villen out of my sight,
    2075I am deafe, be gone, let him not speake a word.
    BNow