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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    Not Peer Reviewed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 King Iohn carried betweene 2. Lords.
    Iohn Set downe, set downe the load not worth your pain,
    For done I am with deadly wounding griefe:
    Sickly and succourles, hopeles of any good,
    2730The world hath wearied me, and I haue wearied it:
    It loaths I liue, I liue and loath my selfe.
    Who pities me? to whom haue I been kinde?
    But to a few; a few will pitie me.
    Why dye I not? Death scornes so vilde a pray.
    Why
    of King Iohn.
    2735Why liue I not, life hates so sad a prize.
    I sue to both to be retaynd of either,
    But both are deafe, I can be heard of neither.
    Nor death nor life, yet life and neare the neere,
    Ymixt with death biding I wot not where.
    2740Philip. How fares my Lord that he is caryed thus,
    Not all the aukward fortunes yet befalne,
    Made such impression of lament in me.
    Nor euer did my eye attaynt my heart
    With any obiect mouing more remorse,
    2745Than now beholding of a mighty King,
    Borne by his Lords in such distressed state.
    Iohn What news with thee, if bad, report if straite:
    If good, be mute, it doth but flatter me.
    Phillip Such as it is, and heauie though it be
    2750To glut the world with tragick elegies,
    Once will I breath to agrauate the rest,
    Another moane to make the measure full.
    The brauest bowman had not yet sent forth
    Two arrowes from the quiuer at his side,
    2755But that a rumor went throughout our Campe,
    That Iohn was fled, the King had left the field.
    At last the rumor scald these eares of mine,
    Who rather chose as sacrifice for Mars,
    Than ignominious scandall by retyre.
    2760I cheerd the troupes as did the Prince of Troy
    His weery followers gainst the Mirmidons,
    Crying alowde S. George, the day is ours.
    But feare had captiuated courage quite,
    And like the Lamb before the greedie Wolfe,
    2765So hartlesse fled our warmen from the feeld.
    Short tale to make, my selfe amongst the rest,
    Was faine to flie before the eager foe.
    By this time night had shadowed all the earth,
    With sable curteines of the blackest hue,
    2770And fenst vs from the fury of the French,
    D 3As
    The troublesome Raigne
    As Io from the iealous Iunos eye, -- renumber from here
    When in the morning our troupes did gather head,
    Passing the washes with our carriages,
    The impartiall tyde deadly and inexorable,
    2775Came raging in with billowes threatning death,
    And swallowed vp the most of all our men,
    My selfe vpon a Galloway right frée, well pacde,
    Out stript the flouds that followed waue by waue,
    I so escapt to tell this tragick tale.
    2780Iohn Griefe vpon griefe, yet none so great a griefe,
    To end this life, and thereby rid my griefe.
    Was euer any so infortunate,
    The right Idea of a curssed man,
    As I, poore I, a triumph for despight,
    2785My feuer growes, what ague shakes me so?
    How farre to Swinsteed, tell me do you know,
    Present vnto the Abbot word of my repaire.
    My sicknesse rages, to tirannize vpon me,
    I cannot liue vnlesse this feuer leaue me.
    2790Phillip. Good cheare my Lord, the Abbey is at hand,
    Behold my Lord the Churchmen come to meete you.
    Enter the Abbot, and certayne Monks.
    Abbot All health & happines to our soueraigne Lord the (King,
    Iohn Nor health nor happines hath Iohn at all.
    2795Say Abbot am I welcome to thy house.
    Abbot Such welcome as out Abbey can affoord,
    Your Maiesty shalbe assured of.
    Phillip The King thou seest is weake and very faint,
    What victuals hast thou to refresh his Grace.
    2800Abbot Good store my Lord, of that you neede not feare,
    For Lincolneshire, and these our Abbey grounds
    Were neuer fatter, nor in better plight.
    Iohn Phillip, thou neuer needst to doubt of cates,
    Nor King nor Lord is seated halfe so well,
    2805As are the Abbeys throughout all the land,
    If any plot of ground do passe another,
    The
    of King Iohn.
    The Friers fasten on it streight:
    But let vs in to taste of their repast,
    It goes against my heart to feed with them,
    2810Or be beholding to such Abbey groomes. Exeunt.
    Manet the Monke.
    Monk. Is this the King that neuer loud a Frier?
    Is this the man that doth contemne the Pope?
    Is this the man that robd the holy Church,
    2815And yet will flye vnto a Friory?
    Is this the King that aymes at Abbeys lands?
    Is this the man whome all the world abhorres,
    And yet will flye vnto a Friory?
    Accurst be Swinsteed Abbey, Abbot, Friers,
    2820Moncks, Nuns, and Clarks, and all that dwells therein,
    If wicked Iohn escape aliue away.
    Now if that thou wilt looke to merit heauen,
    And be canonizd for a holy Saint:
    To please the world with a deseruing worke,
    2825Be thou the man to set thy cuntrey free,
    And murder him that seekes to murder thee.
    Enter the Abbot.
    Abbot Why are not you within to cheare the King?
    He now begins to mend, and will to meate.
    2830Monk What if I say to strangle him in his sleepe?
    Abbot What at thy mumpsimus? away,
    And seeke some meanes for to pastime the King.
    Monk Ile set a dudgeon dagger at his heart,
    And with a mallet knock him on the head.
    2835Abbot Alas, what meanes this Monke to murther me?
    Dare lay my life heel kill me for my place.
    Monk Ile poyson him, and it shall neare be knowne,
    And then shall I be chiefest of my house.
    Abbot If I were dead, indeed he is the next,
    2840But ile away, for why the Monke is mad,
    And in his madnesse he will murther me.
    Monk My
    The troublesome Raigne
    Monk My L. I cry your Lordship mercy, I saw you not.
    Abbot Alas good Thomas doo not murther me, and thou
    shalt haue my place with thousand thanks.
    2845Monk I murther you, God sheeld from such a thought.
    Abbot If thou wilt needes, yet let me say my prayers.
    Monk I will not hurt your Lordship good my Lord: but
    if you please, I will impart a thing that shall be beneficiall to
    vs all.
    2850Abbot Wilt thou not hurt me holy Monke, say on.
    Monk You know my Lord the King is in our house,
    Abbot True.
    Monk You know likewise the King abhors a Frier,
    Abbot True.
    2855Monk And he that loues not a Frier is our enemy.
    Abbot Thou sayst true.
    Monk Then the King is our enemy.
    Abbot True.
    Monk Why then should we not kil our enemy, & the King
    2860being our enemy, why then should we not kill the King.
    Abbot O blessed Monke, I see God moues thy minde to
    free this land from tyrants slauery.
    But who dare venter for to do this deede?
    Monk Who dare? why I my Lord dare do the deede,
    2865Ile free my Countrey and the Church from foes,
    And merit heauen by killing of a King.
    Abbot Thomas kneele downe, and if thou art resolude,
    I will absolue thee heere from all thy sinnes,
    For why the deede is meritorious.
    2870Forward and feare not man, for euery month,
    Our Friers shall sing a Masse for Thomas soule.
    Monk God and S. Francis prosper my attempt,
    For now my Lord I goe about my worke. Exeunt.
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