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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    Not Peer Reviewed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))

    2660 Excursions. Enter Meloun with English Lords.
    Mel. O I am slaine, Nobles, Salsbury, Pembrooke,
    My soule is charged, heare me: for what I say
    Concernes the Peeres of England, and their State.
    Listen
    of King Iohn.
    Listen, braue Lords, a fearfull mourning tale
    2665To be deliuered by a man of death.
    Behold these scarres, the dole of bloudie Mars
    Are harbingers from natures common foe,
    Cyting this trunke to Tellus prison house;
    Lifes charter (Lordings) lasteth not an hower:
    2670And fearfull thoughts, forerunners of my end,
    Bids me giue Phisicke to a sickly soule.
    O Peeres of England, know you what you doo,
    Theres but a haire that sunders you from harme,
    The hooke is bayted, and the traine is made,
    2675And simply you runne doating to your deaths.
    But least I dye, and leaue my tale vntolde,
    With silence slaughtering so braue a crew,
    This I auerre, if Lewes win the day,
    Theres not an Englishman that lifts his hand
    2680Against King Iohn to plant the heire of Fraunce,
    But is already damnd to cruell death.
    I heard it vowd; my self amongst the rest
    Swore on the Altar aid to this Edict.
    Two causes Lords, makes me display this drift,
    2685The greatest for the freedome of my soule,
    That longs to leaue this mansion free from guilt:
    The other on a naturall instinct,
    For that my Grandsire was an Englishman.
    Misdoubt not Lords the truth of my discourse,
    2690No frenzie, nor no brainsick idle fit,
    But well aduisde, and wotting what I say,
    Pronounce I here before the face of heauen,
    That nothing is discouered but a truth.
    Tis time to flie, submit your selues to Iohn,
    2695The smiles of Fraunce shade in the frownes of death,
    Lift vp your swords, turne face against the French,
    Expell the yoke thats framed for your necks.
    Back warmen, back, imbowell not the clyme,
    Your seate, your nurse, your birth dayes breathing place,
    D 2That
    The troublesome Raigne
    2700That bred you, beares you, brought you vp in armes.
    Ah be not so ingrate to digge your Mothers graue,
    Preserue your lambes and beate away the Wolfe.
    My soule hath said, contritions penitence
    Layes hold on mans redemption for my sinne.
    2705Farewell my Lords, witnes my faith when wee are met in (heauen,
    And for my kindnes giue me graue roome heere.
    My soule doth fleete, worlds vanities farewell.
    Sals. Now ioy betide thy soule wel-meaning man.
    Now now my Lords, what cooling card is this,
    2710A greater griefe growes now than earst hath been.
    What counsell giue you, shall we stay and dye?
    Or shall we home, and kneele vnto the King.
    Pemb. My hart misgaue this sad accursed newes:
    What haue we done, fie Lords, what frenzie moued
    2715Our hearts to yeeld vnto the pride of Fraunce?
    If we perseuer, we are sure to dye:
    If we desist, small hope againe of life.
    Salsb. Beare hence the bodie of this wretched man,
    That made vs wretched with his dying tale,
    2720And stand not wayling on our present harmes,
    As women wont: but seeke our harmes redresse.
    As for my selfe, I will in hast be gon:
    And kneele for pardon to our Souereigne Iohn.
    Pemb. I, theres the way, lets rather kneele to him,
    2725Than to the French that would confound vs all. Exeunt.
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