QueenʼsMen Editions

Toolbox




Jump to line
Through Line Number
Help on texts
About this text
Print this page

About this text

  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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 two Friers laying a Cloth.
    Frier Dispatch, dispatch, the King desires to eate,
    Would a might eate his last for the loue hee beares to
    Churchmen.
    2935Frier I am of thy minde to, and so it should be and we
    might be our owne caruers.
    I meruaile why they dine heere in the Orchard.
    Frier I know not, nor I care not. The King coms.
    Iohn Come on Lord Abbot, shall we sit together?
    2940Abbot Pleaseth your Grace sit downe.
    Iohn Take your places sirs, no pomp in penury, all beg-
    gers and friends may come, where necessitie keepes the
    house, curtesie is bard the table, sit downe Phillip.
    Bast. My Lord, I am loth to allude so much to ye prouerb
    2945honors change maners: a King is a King, though fortune do
    her worst, and we as dutifull in despight of her frowne, as if
    your hignesse were now in the highest type of dignitie.
    Iohn Come, no more ado, and you tell me much of digni-
    tie, youle mar my appetite in a surfet of sorrow.
    What
    of King Iohn.
    2950What cheere Lord Abbot, me thinks you frowne like an host
    that knowes his guest hath no money to pay the reckning?
    Abbot 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 Maiesty.
    2955Bastard I thinke rather my Lord Abbot you remember
    my last being heere, when I went in progresse for powtches,
    and the rancor of his heart breakes out in his countenance,
    to shew he hath not forgot me.
    Abbot Not so my Lord, you, and the meanest follower
    2960of his maiesty, are hartely welcome to me.
    Monke Wassell my Liege, and as a poore Monke may
    say, welcome to Swinsted.
    Iohn Begin Monke, and report hereafter thou wast taster
    to a King.
    2965Monk As much helth to your highnes, as to my own hart.
    Iohn I pledge thee kinde Monke.
    Monke The meriest draught yt euer was dronk in Englãd.
    Am I not too bold with your Highnesse.
    Iohn Not a whit, all friends and fellowes for a time.
    2970Monke If the inwards of a Toad be a compound of any
    proofe: why so it works.
    Iohn Stay Phillip wheres the Monke?
    Bastard He is dead my Lord.
    Iohn Then drinke not Phillip for a world of wealth.
    2975Bast. What cheere my Liege, your cullor gins to change.
    Iohn So doth my life, O Phillip I am poysond.
    The Monke, the Deuill, the poyson gins to rage,
    It will depose my selfe a King from raigne.
    Bastard This Abbot hath an interest in this act.
    2980At all aduentures take thou that from me.
    There lye the Abbot, Abbey, Lubber, Deuill.
    March with the Monke vnto the gates of hell.
    How fares my Lord?
    Iohn Phillip some drinke, oh for the frozen Alps,
    2985To tumble on and coole this inward heate,
    That rageth as the fornace seuenfold hote.
    E 2To
    The troublesome Raigne
    To burne the holy tree in Babylon,
    Power after power forsake their proper power,
    Only the hart impugnes with faint resist
    2990The fierce inuade of him that conquers Kings,
    Help God, O payne, dye Iohn, O plague
    Inflicted on thee for thy grieuous sinnes.
    Phillip a chayre, and by and by a graue,
    My leggs disdaine the carriage of a King.
    2995Bastard. A good my Lege with patience conquer griefe,
    And beare this paine with kingly fortitude.
    Iohn Me thinks I see a cattalogue of sinne
    Wrote by a fiend in Marble characters,
    The least enough to loose my part in heauen.
    3000Me thinks the Deuill whispers in mine eares
    And tels me tis in vayne to hope for grace,
    I must be damnd for Arthurs sodaine death,
    I see I see a thousand thousand men
    Come to accuse me for my wrong on earth,
    3005And there is none so mercifull a God
    That will forgiue the number of my sinnes.
    How haue I liud, but by anothers losse?
    What haue I loud but wrack of others weale?
    When haue I vowd, and not infringd mine oath?
    3010Where haue I done a deede deseruing well?
    How, what, when, and where, haue I bestowd a day
    That tended not to some notorious ill.
    My life repleat with rage and tyranie,
    Craues little pittie for so strange a death.
    3015Or who will say that Iohn disceasd too soone,
    Who will not say he rather liud too long.
    Dishonor did attaynt me in my life,
    And shame attendeth Iohn vnto his death.
    Why did I scape the fury of the French,
    3020And dyde not by the temper of their swords?
    Shamelesse my life, and shamefully it ends,
    Scornd by my foes, disdained of my friends.
    Bastard
    of King Iohn.
    Bastard Forgiue the world and all your earthly foes,
    And call on Christ, who is your latest friend.
    3025Iohn My tongue doth falter: Philip, I tell thee man,
    Since Iohn did yeeld vnto the Priest of Rome,
    Nor he nor his haue prospred on the earth:
    Curst are his blessings, and his curse is blisse.
    But in the spirit I cry vnto my God,
    3030As did the Kingly Prophet Dauid cry,
    (Whose hands, as mine, with murder were attaint)
    I am not he shall buyld the Lord a house,
    Or roote these Locusts from the face of earth:
    But if my dying heart deceaue me not,
    3035From out these loynes shall spring a Kingly braunch
    Whose armes shall reach vnto the gates of Rome,
    And with his feete treads downe the Strumpets pride,
    That sits vpon the chaire of Babylon.
    Philip, my heart strings breake, the poysons flame
    3040Hath ouercome in me weake Natures power,
    And in the faith of Iesu Iohn doth dye.
    Bastard Sée how he striues for life, vnhappy Lord,
    Whose bowells are deuided in themselues.
    This is the fruite of Poperie, when true Kings
    3045Are slaine and shouldred out by Monkes and Friers.
    Enter a Messenger.
    Mess. 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,
    3050Together with the Prince his Highnes Sonne,
    Doo craue to be admitted to the presence of the King.
    Bastard Your Sonne my Lord, yong Henry craues to sée
    Your Maiestie, and brings with him beside
    The Barons that reuolted from your Grace.
    3055O piercing sight, he fumbleth in the mouth,
    His speech doth faile: lift vp your selfe my Lord,
    E 3And
    The troublesome Raigne
    And sée the Prince to comfort you in death.
    Enter Pandulph, yong Henry, the Barons with daggers
    in their hands.
    3060Prince O let me see my Father ere he dye:
    O Unckle were you here, and sufferd him
    To be thus poysned by a damned Monke.
    Ah he is dead, Father sweete Father speake.
    Bastard His speach doth faile, he hasteth to his end.
    3065Pandulph Lords, giue me leaue to ioy the dying King,
    With sight of these his Nobles knéeling here
    With daggers in their hands, who offer vp
    Their liues for ransome of their fowle offence.
    Then good my Lord, if you forgiue them all,
    3070Lift vp your hand in token you forgiue.
    Salisbury We humbly thanke your royall Maiestie,
    And vow to fight for England and her King:
    And in the sight of Iohn our soueraigne Lord,
    In spight of Lewes and the power of Fraunce
    3075Who hetherward are marching in all hast,
    We crowne yong Henry in his Fathers sted.
    Henry Help, help, he dyes, a Father, looke on me.
    Legat K. Iohn farewell: in token of thy faith,
    And signe thou dyest the seruant of the Lord,
    3080Lift vp thy hand, that we may witnes here
    Thou dyedst the seruant of our Sauiour Christ.
    Now ioy betide thy soule: what noyse is this?
    Enter a Messenger.
    Mess. Help Lords, the Dolphin maketh hetherward
    3085With Ensignes of defiance in the winde,
    And all our armie standeth at a gaze
    Expecting what their Leaders will commannd.
    Bastard Lets arme our selues in yong K. Henries right,
    And
    of King Iohn.
    And beate the power of Fraunce to sea againe.
    3090Legat Philip not so, but I will to the Prince,
    And bring him face to face to parle with you.
    Bastard Lord Salsbury, your selfe shall march with me,
    So shall we bring these troubles to an ende.
    King Sweete Unckle, if thou loue thy Soueraigne,
    3095Let not a stone of Swinsted Abbey stand,
    But pull the house about the Friers eares:
    For they haue kilde my Father and my King. Exeunt.
    About
    Contact us
    © Queen's Men Editions
    Published by the ISE
    Copyright details
    Privacy policy
    This site is supported by:
    Friends of the ISE
    McMaster University
    Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council
    University of Toronto
    Centre for Drama, Theatre & Performance Studies
    University of Victoria