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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    Not Peer Reviewed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))

    Enter the K. of Fraunce, Lewes his sonne, Cardinall Pan-
    dolph Legate, and Constance.
    Philip What euery man attacht with this mishap?
    Why frowne you so, why droop ye Lords of Fraunce?
    1180Me thinkes it differs from a warlike minde
    To lowre it for a checke or two of chaunce.
    Had Lymoges escapt the bastards spight,
    A little sorrow might haue serude our losse.
    Braue Austria, heauen ioyes to haue thee there.
    1185Card. His sowle is safe and free from Purgatorie,
    Our holy Father hath dispenst his sinnes,
    The blessed Saints haue heard our orisons,
    And all are Mediators for his soule,
    And in the right of these most holy warres,
    1190His holines free pardon doth pronounce
    To
    of King Iohn.
    To all that follow you gainst English heretiques,
    Who stand accursed in our mother Church.
    Enter Constance alone.
    Philip To aggrauate the measure of our griefe,
    1195All malcontent comes Constance for her Sonne.
    Be briefe good Madame, for your face imports
    A tragick tale behinde thats yet vntolde.
    Her passions stop the organ of her voyce,
    Deepe sorrow throbbeth misbefalne euents,
    1200Out with it Ladie, that our Act may end
    A full Catastrophe of sad laments.
    Const. My tongue is tunde to storie forth mishap:
    When did I breath to tell a pleasing tale?
    Must Constance speake? let teares preuent her talke:
    1205Must I discourse? let Dido sigh and say,
    She weepes againe to heare the wrack of Troy:
    Two words will serue, and then my tale is done:
    Elnors proud brat hath robd me of my Sonne.
    Lewes Haue patience Madame, this is chaunce of warre:
    1210He may be ransomde, we reuenge his wrong.
    Constance Be it ner so soone, I shall not liue so long.
    Philip Despaire not yet, come Constance, goe with me,
    These clowdes will fleet, the day will cleare againe.Exeunt.
    Card. Now Lewes, thy fortune buds with happie spring,
    1215Our holy Fathers prayers effecteth this.
    Arthur is safe, let John alone with him,
    Thy title next is fairst to Englands Crowne:
    Now stirre thy Father to begin with Iohn,
    The Pope sayes I, and so is Albion thine.
    1220Lewes Thankes my Lord Legate for your good conceipt,
    Tis best we follow now the game is faire,
    My Father wants to worke him your good words.
    Card. A few will serue to forward him in this,
    Those shal not want: but lets about it then. Exeunt.
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