The Unfortunate Life and Death of King John

Discord the daughter of dissension,
Home-hel-hatcht furie with bewitching charmes,
Doth sooner ruine Cæsar’s royall throne,
Then all the imminent inuading harmes,
That can inferred be by forren armes:
Where people hate, and where the prince doth frowne,
What might builds vp, dissension soone puls downe.

Of which I once that sway’d this scepter state,
Vniustly wrong’d by peeres, vnkindly sold
To wretched fortune by my subiects hate,
A Mirror might haue been in lines of gold,
If to this age my storie truth had told:
But th’vnkind age presents to iudgement’s eye
My shame at large, but lets my praise go by.

To whom shall I my many wrongs complaine?
Since false traditions of those enuious times,
Inuented by my foes, do yet remaine,
Liuing to euery eye in forged rimes,
As matter for the sceane obiecting crimes
Vnto my charge, which firme in censure stands,
Though nere enacted by my guiltlesse hands.

The long concealed griefe of discontent,
Which for such vniust scandall I sustaine,
Vp from the graue my grieued ghost hath sent,
On such sterne people iustly to complaine,
That vilifie my praise with lips prophane,
Speaking what then the superstitious wits
Vnto this age recorded haue in writs.

Could not the enuie of that age be quell’d
With my last houre’s vntimely tragedie?
Could not these burning veines with poison swell’d,
Their deadly hate against me satisfie?
O no, in death their malice will not die:
For which now summon’d by the trumpe of fame,
I gladly come to put away such shame.

My royall birth Plantagenet can show,
Stout Cœur de Lion’s life declares the same,
Who was the second sonne as thou dost know,
Vnto king Henrie second of that name,
Who grew so great in wealth, in strength and fame,
His yongest sonne I was, by name hight Iohn,
Next after Richard seated on the throne.

Thy lines with spot of that disloyaltie
Against my sire, Ile not defile againe,
Nor will I tell that false conspiracie
Against my brother Richard, to obtaine
From him his life, his kingdome, and his raigne:
For he at large doth in his tragedie,
Declare the manner of my treacherie.

Ambitious ayme at greatnesse in the state,
Most incident to men of mightie mind,
At first did bring me in my brother’s hate:
Yet in the end such fauour I did find,
That he to me, though I so most vnkind
Did oft times seeke the fall of his renowne,
Forgaue my fact, and gaue to me his crowne.

With free consent of all this kingdome’s peeres,
Aduanc’d I was to all the royalties
Of my late brother dead, and thrice three yeeres
Inthron’d I was, before my haplesse eies
Were made beholders of those miseries,
Which in deep wanes of woe did England drowne,
And brought confusion to my state and crowne.

In my first rise vnto the kingdome’s state,
False France did frowne, and stirred vp the fire
Conceal’d in ashes of our ancient hate,
The yong duke Arthur, as he did require,
Gainst vs rebell’d, and did with him conspire:
Both stretching forth their enuious hands, to crop
My new growen greene vpon our cedar’s top.

On the swift whirlewinde of tempestuous warre,
Into Touraine and Aniou th’vtmost bound
Of this our empire, then inlarg’d so farre,
They furiously did breake, where what they found
In my defence, they laid it waste on ground:
Of which the duke proclaim’d himselfe the lord,
And sought t’obtaine it by the threatfull sword.

Warre’s fearefull earthquake shaking more and more,
The state of Aniou, I did vnderstand,
How th’aged queene my mother Elinor,
Besieged was by Arthur with strong hand,
Within a tower, which on that coast did stand:
Who sore opprest, and in her mind dismai’d,
In such distresse did call me to her aid.

Incens’d to heare my nephewe’s vnkind deed
Gainst her now in her age, that gaue him breath:
As dutie bound me, on the wings of speed
I hastned to the rescue, to vnsheath
My angrie sword, whose edge did threaten death:
A filiall loue to rescue her from harmes,
Both day and night did make me march in armes.

Before the foes of my approch did heare,
Such expedition thither I did make,
That at their backes my ensignes did appeare:
At which dismai’d, their siege they did forsake,
And most did vnto flight themselues betake:
Of whom were many slaine that stood in fight,
Arthur vnhurt was taken in his flight.

T’whom brought captiu’d before me, thus I spake:
“Cosin,” quoth I, “what madnesse was that same,
That moued you these warres to vndertake?
Why do you thus your royall friends defame,
In bearing armes in false king Philip’s name?
Preferre you him in your esteeme more deare,
Then me, that am to you in blood so neare?

For shame that French man’s company forsake,
Let not his counsell tempt you any more:
Turne vnto me, so shall I euer take
Your cause as mine, and you againe restore
Vnto my wonted fauour as before:”
With gentle speech thus did I him entreat:
But thus he made replie with many a threat.

“Tyrant,” said he, “thou dost detaine my right,
I am, thou knowest, true heire to England’s crowne:
Though vniust fortune in this lucklesse fight
Looke blithe on thee, and on my state do frowne,
Heau’n may again aduance what now is downe:
My friends be free, though I in bands be bound,
That will not rest vntill thou be vncrown’d.”

The arrogant deliuerie of this speech,
Vnto th’impeachment of our royall right,
Did in our former loue make such a breach,
That with contracted brow for such despight,
We did in rage command him from our sight,
And did this cruell paine on him impose,
That he for such offence his eyes should lose.

But when such readie instruments of ill,
Who for reward act any villanie,
To Rouen castle came t’effect my will:
Hubert de Bourgh a man of valiancie,
That then had Arthur in his custodie,
Withstood their purpose, and his part did take,
Saying, that I those words in furie spake.

The heate of anger cool’d, conscience began
In th’eare to whisper how I had offended,
And when I heard how Hubert valiant man,
Prevented had what I in rage intended,
As reason would, his courage I commended:
Yet after this by Arthur’s haplesse woes,
I did incurre the scandall of my foes.

Close kept in Rouen castle by that knight,
Whose wals his steps from starting thence did bound,
Casting in mind how to escape by flight,
At last vnfortunate a way he found
To climbe the wall, that did begirt him round:
A forward mind impatient to sustaine,
The losse of freedome did procure his baine.

Haste prickt him forward to redeeme the time,
Greedie desire his freedome to regaine,
Aboue the castle walles did cause him clime:
From whence as enuious fate did first ordaine,
He downe did fall into the riuer Seyne:
Whose waues against that castle wals did swell,
Where to the world he breath’d his last farewell.

He dead, vnto my charge false Philip laid
That in his blood I had imbru’d my hands,
And in reuenge thereof did craue the aid
Of many princes, who with warlike bands
Did in their rage depopulate my lands:
T’whose distresse with aid I could not come,
Worse fortunes did befall me heere at home.

Mischiefe on mischiefe fals t’encrease my woes,
At home my faithlesse barons do rebell,
The Irish rise, the Welch turn’d treacherous foes,
And enuie, lest this monster I should quell
Of many heads, her selfe comes vp from hell,
And stirres vp Rome to ioyne her hands with hate;
No king did fall beneath so hard a fate.

The heau’ns foretold such things before their time,
Before my haplesse hand that cup did take,
In whose blacke deadly wine my death did swim,
Th’whole aggregate of heau’n did seeme to shake,
Sad signes on earth my tragicke fall forespake:
Seldome such fatall deeds of death are done,
But prodigies do their euents forerun.

Before the founder of that famous tower,
Which ouer lookes our Thames’ siluer cleare,
Did in the senate meet his liue’s late hower,
Horrid ostents and accents full of feare,
To many Roman eyes did oft appeare,
The graues did open, and the dead did rise,
Filling the streets with lamentable cries.

Before stout Brutus that proud Roman lord,
Whose bloodie hand strooke mightie Cæsar dead,
With fatall blade his owne deare bodie gor’d,
Strange apparitions, full of feare and dread
Foretold his heart blood should ere long be shead:
Dead Cæsar’s ghost spake to him in his tent,
The night before his tragicke death’s euent.

Before proud Commodus that Roman king,
With violent poyson did the combate trie,
Heau’n many wonders vnto light did bring,
And many dreadfull meteors blaz’d in skie,
Flames of bright fire out of the earth did flie,
Before he tooke that fatall cup of wine
Of faithlesse Martia, his false concubine.

Before those mischiefes then were set abroch,
Which did infect the peace of my estate,
Before that lucklesse houre did then approch,
In which that desperate villan did await
With deadly wassaile to abridge my fate:
Heau’n did behold the earth with heauie cheare,
And plaguefull meteors did in both appeare.

Fiue moones were in heau’n’s concaue nightly seene,
As if that heau’n vpon our state below,
Foreseeing our harmes compassionate had been,
And had foresent them with their shine to show
To purblind England her approching woe:
Who not being warn’d by them of future harmes,
Was after wakened by tempestuous stormes.

The earthquake-making God, to warne vs all,
With violent hand shooke earth’s foundation,
And from his thickned clouds in stormes let fall
Such showers of ycie bals, that vnto none
In former times the like had ere been knowne:
For euery hailestone of such thicknesse was,
That it in compasse did foure inches passe.

Fire making rupture through the earth did breake,
And burned many a towne and steeple high,
Ghosts in high-waies were often heard to speake,
And spirits in shapes of birds in darksome skie,
With fire in their beakes about did flie:
Wherewith they did afflict much scath and woe
Vpon the countrie, flying to and fro.

O stubborne England, that with such foresigne
From future euill couldst not warned bee:
When heau’n and earth destruction did diuine,
For thy rebellious sinne to fall on thee,
Why didst thou close thy eyes and would’st not see?
When God did thunder iudgement in thine eare,
Why wert thou deafe, as if thou would’st not heare?

For pitie reade thy ruine, drawing nigh,
Vpon the crystall battlements of heauen,
Where grau’d in golden letters to each eie,
Thou maiest behold thy wretched kingdome giuen
Into a stranger’s hand: thy sad king driuen
To flie from thee forlorne and leaue his state,
Sold to misfortune by his subiects hate.

Let time’s blacke hand blot out the memorie
Of that vile age, and let it not be said
That Iohn did euer guide this emperie,
That future time with shame may not vpbraid
This nation’s name, by whom I was betraid,
And say that subiects yet did neuer bring
Such grieuous wrongs vpon a wretched king.

To guide thy muse, that she the cause may know
Whence first these euils in the state did spring,
To blood-built Rome, our Albion’s ancient foe,
Nurse of all factions, let her take swift wing,
That when this wofull storie she shall sing,
She truly may define the Roman hate,
Which first did broch these mischiefes in our state.

When as our England’s metropolitan
Leauing his life, had left at emptie chaire,
I did elect a right religious man,
Who with the best might in those daies compare,
For habitude to manage that affaire:
In whose behalf at Rome I did entreate,
That he might be installed in that seate.

Great Rome then in the ruffe of all her pride,
Deiects my suite with proud contempt, and chose
Langton, a man vnfit that place to guide,
On which such trust in state we did repose,
Since he was nurst in France amongst our foes:
And might in time, bearing such rule in state,
Vnto my fortunes worke vnluckie fate.

For this with Rome’s proud priest thus I contend,
“Thinke not,” said I, “that I that right will yeeld,
On which my royaltie doth sole depend,
The same in spight of hate I trust to shield,
While I shall liue this scepter’s state to wield:
No power on earth in my despight shall place
A stranger in my realme to my disgrace.

If my decreed election may not stand,
I vow by heau’n, henceforth I will restraine
Those passages to Rome out of this land,
Which you hereafter will repent in vaine,
Since by the same you haue no little gaine:
For what need we to Rome a gadding go,
Since many learned men this land can show?”

Hence grew the hate that after did ensue,
Heaping on wrongs vpon my grieued head:
Rome’s Innocent when he these lines did view,
Kindled with wrath, on raging furie fed,
Which through his brest a deadly venom spred:
Whose breath did soone infect our subiects blood,
And bred a plague vnto the generall good.

Thinking it shame to his pompaticke state,
To winke at my contempt of his command,
With lips prophane, big swolne with eager hate,
He breaths his curse gainst me, and gainst my land,
To last so long as I his will withstand:
And lockes vp all church gates by his great word,
Forbidding vs accesse vnto the Lord.

Thou proud vsurper of our Peter’s key,
Behold thy sinne, and blush at thy foule shame,
Why didst thou locke the gate that leads the way
Vnto the holy place? why didst thou name
Thy selfe the rocke on whom that power that came
To saue the world, his sacred church should found,
And yet didst cast it then vnto the ground?

My people frightned with the roaring threat
Of wrathfull bulles to England daily sent,
Their due alleageance to their lord forget:
Th’inglorious peeres, as if the gouernment
Had been transferr’d from Iohn to Innocent,
Did shrinke from me, and would not by me stand,
For th’impeacht priuiledge of our free land.

Yet could all this not stoope my noble hart,
The rebell priests, that did at his command
Pronounce his curse prophane, did feele the smart
Of their offence, and from my furious hand
T’escape my vow’d reuenge, did flie the land,
Leauing their sweet possessions for a pray,
Which to my friends I freely gaue away.

After this curse it seem’d my blisse begun:
For when the stubborne Irish did rebell,
Meth witnesse be of my atchieuements done:
And let cold Snowden’s barren mountaines tell,
How the rebellious Welch my hand did quell:
No wofull fate befell me at this season,
Till my false peeres began to practise treason.

Infected with this curse, and hauing lost
My wonted loue, they did with Rome consent:
For as to Wales I marched with my host,
The Scottish king their malice to preuent,
Did send me letters of their whole intent,
How they were bent, if I did forward goe,
To kill me, or betray me to my foe.

Perplext in mind, thenceforth I stood in feare
Of ruine threatned to my life and state:
France did oppresse me, and the Welch did beare
Rebellious armes: but such was my hard fate,
None could oppose them through my barons hate:
Yet I, on whom mine owne no mercie haue,
In their distresse to strangers comfort gaue.

To me with care opprest, the Scotish king
Letters did send full fraught with lines of woe,
Which vnto me his sonne the prince did bring,
By which he moued me, though once my foe,
On his oppressed age remorse to show:
For his base subiects gainst him did arise,
And for his age his person did despise.

A mightie host with speed I did prepare,
With which enrag’d, I into Scotland went,
Where, in that warre my sword but few did spare,
That gainst their aged king their powers had bent,
To take from his crowne and gouernment:
Guthred mac William cause of all this strife,
Did with a traytor’s death shut vp his life.

But let vs turne vs backe from Scotland’s bounds,
At home to view th’effects of Roman hate:
There see how Innocent inflicts fresh wounds
Vpon the mangled bodie of our state,
Who since that no old mischiefe could abate
The spirit inuincible of my great mind,
To make me stoope, new mischiefes now did find.

By power of his vsurpt authoritie,
He did absolue all subiects in my land,
That by alleageance were oblig’d to me:
Then would he put into king Philip’s hand,
The crowne and royall scepter of this land:
If he from hence could me expell by might,
Or take my life away by treacherous slight.

Thou that dost ride vpon the backes of kings,
Yet feines to walke the steps of our deare Lord,
Thou that dost make a cloake of holy things
To hide thy shame, and leau’st the sacred word,
T’oppose the Lord’s anointed with the sword:
Is this the path that th’Holy One did passe?
When he to Cæsar gaue, what Cæsar’s was.

How canst thou wash thy hands of these foule crimes,
When thou didst make this kingdome’s crowne my shame:
Let not posteritie in future times,
Impute this fact to England’s Iohn for blame,
That Rome did force him stoope to such defame:
Since mine owne friends with all the world did frowne,
Before proud Rome could cause me yeeld my crowne.

See on the seas where France her way doth take,
To plucke me from my throne by force of hand:
See how my faithlesse barons me forsake,
And rather readie be themselues to band
Against their prince, then in his quarrell stand:
Yea see my houshold folke do me forgoe,
And lift vp rebell hands to helpe my foe.

The stiffe-neckt priests the subiect to excite
Against his king, a prophet did procure,
Who by the skill of his propheticke sight,
Of peace to come the people should assure,
And that as king I should not long endure:
To which th’vnconstant people credit gaue,
Whose minds in state do alterations craue.

In this distresse, in vaine I striue to stand
Against th’approching shame which I lament,
Besieged round with feare on euery hand,
Not knowing how such mischiefe to preuent,
Pandulph the legate comes from Innocent,
To know if yet th’effects of his proud frowne,
Had in such dangers brought my stomack downe.

O vnkind England now behold and see
Thy wronged king forlorne, and forc’d by feare
To yeeld his crowne vpon his bended knee:
O deepe disgrace, that any prince can beare,
O that such pride in prelates euer were:
Pandulph in signe that I my sinnes repent,
Receiues my crowne giu’n vp to Innocent.

Remitting former faults with gratious doome,
And hauing kept my crowne for fiue daies space,
As made contributorie vnto Rome,
The same againe he on my head did place,
And with my former title did me grace:
To the French king likewise with speed he went,
Charging him leaue his course for England bent.

But he in hope the diademe to gaine,
Would not desist: but with a nauie came
Of twice foure hundred ships vpon the maine:
Whose powers t’oppose, proud Pandulph did proclame
That all men should in Innocentius name
Lift vp their hands t’auert those threatned harmes,
Whereby the shores were stuft with men of armes.

Fiue hundred saile well mann’d against the foes,
I launcht into the seas with them to fight:
And for the generall of the fight I chose
My bastard brother, William Longspath hight,
Of those our troublous times the brauest knight,
Who at this time his valiancie did show,
In this sea-fight against th’inuading foe.

Gainst whom they fought with such successefull hands,
That on our side the conquest did remaine:
Philip disgrac’d with his dismembred bands,
Vnto his home returned backe againe,
There to recure the losse he did sustaine:
While I in vaine do seeke to heale my state,
All rent and torne by mutinous debate.

Out of the ruines of my countrie’s woe,
What I to raise did carefull hands applie,
My rebell barons downe againe did throw:
To take aduantage, while my miserie
Is yet but fresh, they me in field defie,
For that to their demands I gaue no eare,
Which to mine honor preiudiciall were.

By friends forlorne, they forced me by might
To yeeld to them, to my disgrace and shame:
The thought of which, and of that great despight
Done by Rome’s Innocent, did so inflame
My heart with furie, that I did exclame
Vpon my fates that did my daies prolong,
In which I was ordain’d t’indure such wrong.

Of mine owne seruants left all desolate,
But seuen in number did with me remaine,
Pursu’d by most disloyall people’s hate:
Oft with meane food my life I did sustaine,
Lest they by poyson should procure my bane:
And for my safetie with those few approued,
In strange disguise I to and fro remoued.

In this distresse into the Ile of Wight
My selfe in secret wise I did conuey,
Where while I did remaine, in my despight
Each slaue, whose heart my name could once affray,
With barbarous taunts vpon the same did play:
Some call’d me fisherman, some rouing thiefe,
That fled the land, at seas to find reliefe.

Such wrongs with patience I did seeme to beare,
Dissembling wrath in my reuengefull mind,
To such reports I seem’d to giue no eare:
But still did lie, as vnto peace inclin’d,
Till I fit opportunitie did find:
For in the end when I return’d againe,
For such contempt they paid me double paine.

Receiuing aid from friends beyond the seas,
Like to a tempest stooping downe from heau’n,
With spoilefull hands my kingdome I did sease,
All in my furie were to slaughter giuen,
My barons into flight with terror driuen:
Fled from my face, and sought their heads to hide
For their misdeeds, in field none durst abide.

They all vnable to withstand my might,
Not with submission milde did mercie craue:
To do to me and mine the more despight,
To France they sent, desiring for to haue
Prince Lewis to their king, to whom they gaue
Their promise to aduance him to the crowne,
And as a tyrant king to cast me downe.

King Philip fostring malice in his mind,
And gainst me such aduantage hauing found,
Though no pretence of title he could find,
Whereon his purpos’d enterprise to ground:
Yet stretcht he out his arme our state to wound,
And take from me and my posteritie,
Our diademe and kingly royaltie.

For his proud sonne prince Lewis he did send,
With many a troope and many a warlike band,
Whose wisht accesse my barons did attend,
With all their troopes vpon the Kentish strand,
Where with his host French Lewis first tooke land:
Whence with those traytors he to London went,
Which in this treason did with them consent.

Then did begin my former miserie,
For those, in whom chiefe trust I did repose,
Those stranger souldiers all from me did flie,
Except some few, that did lament my woes,
And Douer castle kept against my foes,
Vnto whose trust I did the same betake,
All other seeming friends did me forsake.

But see the iudgement of almightie Ioue,
On the disloyall people of this land:
The conquering French, whose nature is to proue,
Insulting ouer whom they beare command,
Now being lords of all, with heauie hand
The English people did begin t’oppresse,
Who could not helpe themselues in this distresse.

Thus did the King of heau’n iust vengeance take
On them, for their vniust disloyaltie:
My part he did not vtterly forsake,
But in the end did force my foes to flie,
And leaue the crowne to my posteritie:
For he did chuse out one amongst the foe,
To be our enemie’s chiefe ouerthrow.

There was a noble minded man of France,
Vicount of Melum, and a Frenchman borne,
Who falling sicke did waile the sad mischance
Of th’English, iustly made false fortune’s scorne,
That thus had left their king to liue forlorne:
Yea with remorse his conscience it did sting,
To see the subiect so oppresse the king.

When death in him began his due to take,
He for my nobles secretly did send,
To whom with fainting voice these words he spake:
“My friends,” quoth he, “vnto my words attend,
Which shall ere long for euermore haue end:
Attend, I say, conscience bids me impart
The things that now lie heauie on my hart.

Woe to the wretched people of this land,
Which do their soueraigne lord and king forsake:
Woe to your selues, that for your king should stand,
Of whom a scorne vnto the world ye make:
And woe vnto your children for your sake:
Yea, woe to England euermore shall be,
Vnlesse with speed ye seeke some remedie.

Lewis our prince of late hath deepely sworne,
And with him sixteene earles and barons more,
That ye, that now haue left your king forlorne,
Shall die the death, or else exil’d deplore
Your case in forren parts for euermore:
Then let each peere with speed draw forth his sword,
To helpe himselfe and his distressed lord.

If conscience cause me to bemone the chance
Of this so braue a king, which ye possesse,
To whom I am a stranger borne in France:
Yea once his foe, though now as ye may gesse,
I as a friend bewaile his sad distresse:
How then should ye that are his liegemen borne,
For this his sad mishap with sorow mourne?

Assist him then as dutie doth you bind,
Pitie your selues and your posteritie:
And keepe what I haue spoken in your mind,
Of which no more to you I can descrie:
For now my heart doth faile and I must die:
Adieu pourtant, Adieu à chasqu’amy.
Adieu ie dis ma vie ce fini.”

My peeres forewarned of such treacherie,
And with remorse viewing their natiue lands
Betrai’d to spoile by their disloyaltie,
Did cast in mind how they with helping hands
Might best restore themselues from captiue bands:
And hoping now my grace againe to win,
From Lewis to decline they did begin.

Vpon th’insulting French to powre my spleene,
Throughout my kingdome’s bounds I did proclaime,
That all my subiects that had wronged been
By forren foes, if vnto me they came
With minds for fight, I would reuenge the same:
Whereby with speed came many a worthie wight
Vnder my standard gainst the French to fight.

Like raging storme blowne out of Boreas mouth,
With violent furie I did force my way,
From east to west, from north vnto the south
Destroying all things, that before vs lay:
Which did our aduersaries so dismay,
That none durst stand t’oppose vs in the field,
But readie way vnto our will did yeeld.

Had proud prince Lewis met with me in fight,
Our quarrell by the dint of sword to trie,
Soone should I haue obtain’d my kingdome’s right,
And made th’vsurping prince from hence to flie,
Who did support my peere’s disloyaltie:
But treason stretched out her deadly hand,
Who twixt the French and my reuenge did stand.

In Swinsted abbie witnesse of my wrong,
A monke there was, the worker of my bane,
Who heard me vow that if I liued long,
Through England I would raise the price of graine,
To plague my subiects for their proud disdaine:
Which was the cause, as fates did first decree,
For which this villan monke did poyson mee.

To vent the poisned thoughts of his false brest,
Loe all alone in dead time of the night,
When euery one had laid him downe to rest,
When aire was husht, when from the welkin bright
The golden stars did cast a glimmering light,
He forth did walke into a garden by,
For to effect his wicked treacherie.

There as this villan wandred to and fro,
To find some weed that had the power t’expell
The vitall spirit, or any aduerse foe
To humane life, some kind of serpent fell,
Or any thing that did with poyson swell:
At last an vglie toad he haplesse found,
Big swolne with poyson crawling on the ground:

With which full glad he did returne againe,
And to his chamber secretly did goe,
Where with his pen-knife he did pricke and paine
The lothsome toade, from whom the blood did floe,
By which the wicked monke did worke my woe:
For poison which the toade did vomit vp,
With wine he mixed in a fatall cup.

With which to me he came, and thus he spake,
“My liege,” said he, “a cup of wine I bring,
Of which if that your grace a taste will take,
It will abate the edge of sorowe’s sting,
Which deepely seemes to wound my grieued king:
With it to England’s health I will begin,
Whose woes for euermore be drown’d herein.”

Thus did this villan drinke, and dranke his last,
And after vnto me the cup he gaue,
Of which misdeeming nought, I straight did taste,
Which done, not all the world my life could saue,
So deadly was it tempered by the slaue:
Th’effects whereof before my death were knowne,
Which came to passe immediatly thereon.

For when the raging venome had dispread
It selfe throughout my bodie by the veines,
My blood did boile, my heart began to dread,
My bodie swell’d, and when no hope remaines
Of any helpe to remedie such paines:
I for the monke did call to haue his head,
But one did answere make, that he was dead.

“Then God,” quoth I, “haue mercie on my soule,
For of this wretched world no man am I,
Seeing nothing may this venom’s force controule:
For sensiblie I feele how it doth lie
Vpon my woefull heart, and I must die:
Wherefore my sonne fetch hither vnto mee,
That I before I die his face may see.”

The child being brought, for then he was a child,
To him I thus did speake with weeping eie:
“My sonne,” quoth I, “on whom my hopes I build:
Come neere to me, where heere in paine I lie,
Come neere and haue my blessing ere I die,
Nought else to thee is left for me to leaue,
Since of my crowne my foes do me bereaue.

Wherefore ye heau’ns who do behold my woes,
Now at my death giue eare vnto my prayer,
Protect this child of mine from all his foes:
And for your mercie’s sake this infant spare,
Whose tender age doth want your tender care:
Else will that roring lion Lewis kill
This litle lambe, though he hath done none ill.

And thou, my litle sonne, take heed by me,
That thou thy peeres and people’s loue procure,
Contend not thou with thy nobilitie:
So shall thy state and kingdome long endure,
And thou from forren foes liue safe and sure:
For my false subiects vndeserued hate
Did worke my woe, which I repent too late.

Renowned Pembroke, thou hast left my foe,
Be thou protector to this pretie boy,
And for the father’s sake thy fauour show:
When I am gone do thou thy strength employ
Against all those that seeke this child’s annoy:
And ye, my other peeres, who once haue ben
My foes, proue now true hearted noble men.

Redeeme your countrey from that captiue woe,
Which from the roote of ciuill discord grew:
Ioyne hearts and hands against the common foe:
Forget old wrongs, vnto the prince proue true:
Farewell, my daies be done, I die, adew.”
Thus after twice nine yeares of rule in state,
I lost both life and rule by timelesse fate.

Behold the last effects of Henrie’s curse
On his last sonne, for his rebellious pride:
Let princes learne, that where debate, the nurce
Of discord, doth the prince and peeres diuide,
Nought but destruction can that state betide:
Of which let that sad time of my short reigne,
A Mirrour vnto future time remaine.