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A04520 The first and second part of the troublesome raigne of Iohn King of England With the discouerie of King Richard Cordelions base sonne (vulgarly named, the bastard Fawconbridge:) Also, the death of King Iohn at Swinstead Abbey. As they were (sundry times) lately acted by the Queenes Maiesties Players. Written by W. Sh.; Troublesome raigne of John, King of England. Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616, attributed name.; Marlowe, Christopher, 1564-1593, attributed name. 1611 (1611) STC 14646; ESTC S106395 50,051 91

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England Am I not too bold with your Highnesse Iohn Not a whit all friends and fellowes for a time Monke If the inwards of a toad be a compound of any proofe why so it workes Iohn Stay Philip where 's the Monke Bastard He is dead my Lord. Iohn Then drinke not Philip for a world of wealth Ba. What cheere my liege your collor gins to change Iohn So doth my life O Philip I am poison'd The Monke the Diuell the poyson gins to rage It will depose my selfe a King from raigne Bast. This Abbot hath an interest in this act At all aduentures take thou that from me There lie the Abbot Abbey Lubber Diuell March with the Monke vnto the gates of hell How fares my Lord Iohn Philip some drinke oh for the frozen Alpes To tumble on and coole this inward heate That rageth as the fornace seuen-fold hote To burne the holy tree in Babylon Power after power forsake their proper power Onely the heart impugnes with faint resist The fierce inuade of him that conquers Kings Helpe God O paine die Iohn O plague Inflicted on thee for thy grieuous sinnes Philip a chaire and by and by a graue My legges disdaine the carriage of a King Bast. A good my Liege with patience conquer griefe And beare this paine with kingly fortitude Iohn Me thinkes I see a catalogue of sinne Wrote by a fiend in marble characters The least enough to loose my part in heauen Me thinkes the Diuell whispers in mine eares And tells me t is in vaine to hope for grace I must be damn'd for Arthurs sodaine death I see I see a thousand thousand men Come to accuse me for my wrong on earth And there is none so mercifull a God That will forgiue the number of my sinnes How haue I liu'd but by anothers losse What haue I lou'd but wracke of others weale When haue I vow'd and not infring'd mine oath Where haue I done a deede deseruing well How what when and where haue I bestow'd a day That tended not to some notorious ill My life repleate with rage and tyrannie Craues little pittie for so strange a death Or who will say that Iohn deceasde too soone Who will not say he rather liu'd too long Dishonour did attaint me in my life And shame attendeth Iohn vnto his death Why did I scape the fury of the French And dide not by the temper of their swords Shamelesse my life and shamefully it ends Scorn'd by my foes disdained of my friends Bast. Forgiue the world and all your earthly foes And call on Christ who is your latest friend Iohn 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 crie vnto my God As did the kingly prophet Dauid cry Whose hands as mine with murder were attaint I am not he shall build the Lord a house Or roote these locusts from the face of earth But if my dying heart deceiue me not From out these loynes shall spring a kingly braunch Whose armes shall reach vnto the gates of Rome And with his feete treades downe the Strumpets pride That sits vpon the chaire of Babylon Philip my heart strings breake the poysons flame Hath ouercome in me weake Natures power And in the faith of Iesu Iohn doth die Bastard See how he striues for life vnhappy Lord Whose bowels are diuided in themselues This is the fruit of Poperie when true Kings Are 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 Together with the Prince his Highnesse sonne Do craue to be admitted to the presence of the King Bast Your Sonne my Lord yong Henry craues to see Your Maiestie and brings with him beside The Barons that reuolted from your Grace O piercing sight he fumbleth in the mouth His speech doth faile lift vp your selfe my Lord And see the Prince to comfort you in death Enter Pandulph yong Henry the Barons with daggers in their hands Prince O let me see my father ere he die O vncle were you here and suffred him To be thus poysned by a damned Monke Ah he is dead Father sweet Father speake Bastard His speach doth faile he hasteth to his end Pandulph Lords giue me leaue to ioy the dying King With sight of these his Nobles kneeling here With daggers in their hands who offer vp Their liues for ransome of their foule offence Then good my Lord if you forgiue them all Lift vp your hand in token you forgiue Salis 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 spite of Lewes and the power of Fraunce Who hitherward are marching in all haste We crowne yong Henry in his fathers sted Henry Help help he dies Ah father looke on mee Legat K. Iohn farewell in token of thy faith And signe thou diest the seruant of the Lord Lift vp thy hand that we may witnesse here Thou diedst the seruant of our Sauiour Christ Now ioy betide thy soule what noise is this Enter a Messenger Mess Help Lords the Dolphin maketh hitherward With Ensignes of defiance in the winde And all our armie standeth at a gaze Expecting what their Leaders will commaund Bast. Let 's arme our selues in yong K. Henries right And beate the power of Fraunce to sea againe Legate Philip not so but I will to the Prince And bring him face to face to parley with you Bast. Lord Salsbury your selfe shall march with me So shall we bring these troubles to an end King Sweet vncle if thou loue thy Soueraigne Let not a stone of Swinstead Abbey stand But pull the house about the Friers eares For they haue kill'd my Father and my King Exeunt A Parley sounded Lewes Pandulph Salisbury c. Pand. Lewes of Fraunce yong Henry Englands king Requires to know the reason of the claime That thou canst make to any thing of his King Iohn that did offend is dead and gone See where his breathlesse trunke in presence lies And he as heire apparant to the crowne Is now succeeded in his Fathers roome Henry Lewes what law of armes doth leade thee thus To kéepe possession of my lawfull right Answere in fine if thou wilt take a peace And make surrender of my right againe Or trie thy title with the dint of sword I tell thee Dolphin Henry feares thee not For now the Barons cleaue vnto their King And what thou hast in England they did get Lewes Henry of England now that Iohn is dead That was the chiefest enemie to Fraunce I may the rather be inducde to peace But Salsbury and you Barons of the Realme This strange reuolt agrees not with the oath That you on Bury Altare lately sware Sals Nor did the oath your Highnesse there did take Agree with honour of the Prince of Fraunce Bast. My Lord what answer make you to the King Dolphin Faith Philip this I say It bootes not me Nor any Prince nor power of Christendome To seeke to win this Iland Albion Vnlesse he haue a partie in the Realme By treason for to help him in his warres The Peeres which were the partie on my side Are fled from me then bootes not me to fight But on conditions as mine honour wills I am contented to depart the Realme Henry On what conditions will your Highnes yeeld Lew. That shall we thinke vpon by more aduice Bast. Then Kings Princes let these broils haue end And at more leisure talke vpon the League Meane while to Worster let vs beare the King And there interre his bodie as beseemes But first in sight of Lewes heire of Fraunce Lords take the Crowne and set it on his head That by succession is our lawfull King They crowne yong Henry Thus Englands peace begins in Henries raigne And bloodie warres are closde with happie league Let England liue but true within it selfe And all the world can neuer wrong her State Lewes thou shalt be brauely shipt to Fraunce For neuer Frenchman got of English ground The twentith part that thou hast conquered Dolphin thy hand to Worster we will march Lords all lay hands to beare your Soueraigne With obsequies of honour to his graue If Englands Peeres and people ioyne in one Nor Pope nor France nor Spaine can do them wrong FINIS