2 The Troublesome Reign of King John · chunk 18 of 19
Anonymous · published 1611 · first performed or written 1591 (Annals) history · Queen Elizabeth's Men T31 Popes, cardinals and the crown typicality 0.80 · 505 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T31: cardinal, pope, king, lord, majesty, holy, rome, france, church, lords.
My tongue doth falter: Philip, I tell thee man, Since Iohn did yield unto the Priest of Rome, Nor he nor his have prospered on the earth: Cursed are his blessings, and his curse is bliss. But in the spirit I cry unto my God, As did the kingly prophet David cry, (Whose hands, as mine, with murder were attaint) I am not he shall build the Lord a house, Or root these locusts from the face of earth: But if my dying heart deceive me not, From out these loins shall spring a kingly branch Whose arms shall reach unto the gates of Rome, And with his feet treads down the Strumpet's pride, That sits upon the chair of Babylon. Philip, my heart strings break, the poisons flame Hath overcome in me weak Nature's power, And in the faith of Iesu Iohn doth die. See how he strives for life, unhappy Lord, Whose bowels are divided in themselves. This is the fruit of Popery, when true Kings Are slain and shouldered out by Monks and Friars. Please it your Grace, the Barons of the Land, Which all this while bare arms against the King, Conducted by the Legate of the Pope, Together with the Prince his highness son, Do crave to be admitted to the presence of the King. Your Son, my Lord, young Henry craves to see Your Majesty, and brings with him beside The Barons that revolted from your Grace. O piercing sight, he fumbleth in the mouth, His speech doth fail: lift up yourself my Lord, And see the Prince to comfort you in death. O let me see my father ere he die: O uncle, were you here, and suffered him To be thus poisoned by a damned Monk? Ah he is dead, Father, sweet Father speak. His speech doth fail, he hasteth to his end. Lords, give me leave to joy the dying King, With sight of these his Nobles kneeling here With daggers in their hands, who offer up Their lives for ransom of their foul offence. Then good my Lord, if you forgive them all, Lift up your hand in token you forgive. We humbly thank your royal Majesty, And vow to fight for England and her King: And in the sight of Iohn our sovereign Lord, In spite of Lewes and the power of France, Who hitherward are marching in all haste, We crown young Henry in his father's stead. Help, help, he dies; Ah father! look on me. K. Iohn, farewell: in token of thy faith, And sign thou diest the servant of the Lord, Lift up thy hand, that we may witness here, Thou diedst the servant of our Saviour Christ. Now joy betid thy soul: what noise is this? Help Lords, the Dolphin maketh hitherward With Ensigns of defiance in the wind, And all our army standeth at a gaze, Expecting what their Leaders will command. Let's arm ourselves in young K. Henry's right, And beat the power of France to sea again.
seed 43: T38 · seed 44: T38 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
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. 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. 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. 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. 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. His ſpeach doth faile, he haſteth to his end. 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. 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. Help, help, he dies; Ah father! looke on mee. 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? 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. Let's arme our ſelues in yong K. Henries right, And beate the power of Fraunce to ſea againe.