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puts the countrey in a mutiny, so they send to your grace for fuccour.
K. Ioh. How how lord Cardinal, what's your best aduise?
These mutinies must be allaid in time,
By policy or headstrong rage at least.
O lohn, these troubles tyre thy wearied soule,
And like to Luna in a fad eclipse,
So are thy thoughts and passions for this newes.
Well may it be, when kings are grieued so,
The vulgar fort worke princes querthrowe.
Card. K. Iohn, for not effecting of thy plighted yow,
This strange annoyance happens to thy land:
But yet be reconcil'd vnto the church,
And nothing shall be grieuous to thy state.
Ioh. On Pandulph, be it as thou hast decreed,
Tohn will not spurne against thy found aduise,
Come lets away, and with thy helpe I trow,
My realine shall Aourish, and my crowne in peace.
Enter the nobles, Pembrooke, Elex, Chester, Bewchampe,
Clare, with others.
Pemb. Now sweet S. Edmund holy saint in heauen,
Whofe shrine is facred, high esteem'd on earth,
Infuze a constant zeale in all our hearts,
To profecute this act of mickle weight,
Lord Bewchampe say, what friends haue you procur'd.
Bewch. The L. Fitz Water, L. Percie, and L. Role,
Vow'd meeting here this day the leuenth houre.
Esex. Vnder the cloke of holy pilgrimage,
By that same houre on warrant of their faith,
· Philip Plantaginet, a bird of swiftest wing,
Lord Euftauce, Vescy, lord Crelly, and lord Mowbrey,
Appointed meeting at S. Edmunds fhrine.
Pemb. Vntill their presence, Ile conceale my tale,
Sweet complices in holy christian acts,
That venture for the purchase of renowne,
Thrice welcome to the league of high resolue,
That pawne their bodies for their soules regard.
Efex. Now wanteth but the rest to end this worke,
In pilgrimes habite comes our holy troupe
A furlong hence, with swift vnwoonted pace,
May be they are the persons you expect.
Pemb. With swift vawoonted gate, see what a thing is
That spurs them on with feruence to this shrine,
Now ioy come to them for their true intent:
And in good time, here come the war-men all,
That sweat in body by the minds disease:
Hap and harts-ease braue lordings be your lot.
Enter the Bastard Philip, &c.
Amen my lords, the like beride your lucke,
And all that trauell in a christian cause.
Eljex. Cheerely repli’d braue branch of kingly stocke,
A right Plantagenet should reason fo.
But silence lords, attend our commings cause :
The feruile yoke that pained vs with toyle,
On strong instinct hath fram'd this conuenticle,
To ease our neckes of seruitudes contempt.
Should I not name the foeman of our rest,
Which of you all so barren in conceipt,
As cannot leuell at the man I meane?
But lest enigma’s shadow shining truth,
Plainely to paint, as truth requires no art.
Th'effect of this resort importeth this,
To root and cleane extirpate tyrant lohn,
Tyrant I say, appealing to the man,
If any here that loues him, and I aske,
What kindship, lenitie, or christian raigne,
Rules in the man, to barre this foule impeach?
First I inferre the Chesters banishment :
For reprehending him in most vnchristian crimes,
Was speciall notice of a tyrants will.
But were this all, the diuell should be fau'd,
But this the least of many thousand faults,
That circumstance with leisure might display.
Our priuate wrongs, no parcell of my tale
Which now in presence, but for some great cause
Might wish to him as to a mortall foe.
But shall I close the period with an act
Abhorring in the eares of christian men,
His cousins death, that sweet vnguiltie child,
Vntimely butcherd by the tyrants meanes,
Here are my proofes, as cleere as grauel brooke,
And on the same I further must inferre,
That who vpholds a tyrant in his course,
Is culpable of all his damned guilt.
To shew the which, is yet to be describ'd.
My lord of Pembrooke, lewe what is behinde,
Onely I say, that were there nothing else
To mooue vs, but the popes most' dreadfull curse,
Whereof we are assured, if we faile,
It were enough to instigate vs all,
With earnestnesse of sprite, to seeke a meane
To dispostesle Iohn of his regiment.
Pemb. Well hath my lord of Elex told his tale,
Which I auerre for most substantiall truth,
And more to make the matter to our minde,
I say that Lewis in challenge of his wife,
Hath title of an vncontrouled plea,
To all that longeth to our English crowne.
Short tale to make, the sea apoftolike,
Hath offerd dispensation for the fault.
If any be, as trust me none I know,
By planting Lewis in the vsurpers roome :
This is the cause of all our presence here,
That on the holy altar we protest,
To aid the right of Lewis with goods and life,
Who on our knowledge is in armes for England.
What say you lords?
Salis. As Pembrooke faith, affirmeth Salisburie :
Faire Lewis of France that spoused lady Blanch,
Hath title of an vncontrouled strength
To England, and what longeth to the crowne :
In right whereof, as we are true inform’d,
The prince is marching hitherward in armes.
Our purpose, to conclude that with a word,
Is to inueft him as we may deuife,
King of our countrey, in the tyrants stead :
And so the warrant on the altar sworne,
And so the intent for which we hither came.
Baft. My lord of Salisburie, I cannot couch
My speeches with the needfull words of arte,
As doth beseeme in such a waightie worke,
But what my conscience and my duty will,
I purpose to impart.
For Chesters exile, blame his busie wit,
That medled where his duty quite forbade :
For any priuate causes that you haue,
Me thinke they should not mount to such a height,
As to depose a king in their reuenge.
For Arthurs death, K. Iohn was innocent,
He desperate was the deathsman to himselfe,
Which you, to make a colour to your crime, injustly do im-
pute ro his defalt,
But wher fel traitorisme hath residēce,
There wants no words to set despight on worke.
I say tis shame, and worthy all reproofe,
To wrest such petty wrongs in tearms of right,
Against a king annointed by the lord.
Why Salsburie, admit the wrongs are true,
Yet subiects may not take in hand reuenge,
And rob the heauens of their proper power,
Where fitteth he to whom reuenge belongs.
And doth a pope, a priest, a man of pride,
Giue charters for the liues of lawfull kings?
What can he blesse, or who regards his curse,
But such as giue to man, and take from God?
I speake it in the fight of God aboue,
There's not a man that dies in your beleefe,
But fels his soule perpetually to paine.
Aid Lewis, leave God, kill lohn, please hell,
Make hauocke of the welfare of your soules,
For here I leaue you in the light of heauen,
A troope of traytors, food for hellish fiends;
If you defift, then follow me as friends,
If not, then doe your worst, as hatefull traytors.
For Lewis his right, alafTe tis too too lame,
A fenllelle claime, if truth be titles friend.
In briefe, if this because of our resort,
Our pilgrimage is to the diuels shrine.
I came not lords, to troupe as traytors doe,
Nor will I counsell in so bad a cause :
Please you returne, we goe againe as friends,
If not, I to my king, and you where traytors please