PANDULPH

Now John, unworthy man to breath on earth, That dost oppugn against thy mother Church: Why am I sent for to thy cursed self? No John, thy crouching and dissembling thus Cannot deceive the Legate of the Pope, Say what thou wilt, I will not credit thee: Thy Crown and Kingdom both are taken away, And thou art cursed without redemption. Lews of France, victorious Conqueror, Whose sword hath made this Island quake for fear; Thy forwardness to fight for holy Room, Shall be remunerated to the full: But know my Lord, K. John is now absolved, The Pope is pleased, the Land is blessed again, And thou hast brought each thing to good effect. It rests then that thou withdraw thy powers, And quietly return to France again: For all is done the Pope would wish thee do. Lews, I charge thee and thy accomplices Upon the pain of Pandulphs holy curse, That thou withdraw thy powers to France again, And yield up London and the neighbour towns That thou hast taken in England by the sword. Then in the name of Innocent the Pope, I curse the Prince and all that take his partly, And excommunicate the rebel Peers As traitors to the King, and to the Pope. Comfort thy self king John, the Cardnall goes Upon his curse to make them leave their arms. Lews of France, young Henry England's king Requires to know the reason of the claim That thou canst make to any thing of his. King John that did offend, is dead and gone, See where his breathless trunk in presence lies, And he as heir apparent to the crown Is now succeeded in his Father's room. John, now I see thy hearty penitence, I rew and pity thy distressed estate, One way is left to reconcile thy self, And only one which I shall show to thee. Thou must surrender to the sea of Room Thy Crown and Diadem, then shall the Pope Defend thee from th'inuasion of thy foes. And where his Holiness hath kindled France, And set thy subjects hearts at war with thee, Then shall he curse thy foes, and beat them down, That seek the discontentment of the King. Lords, give me leave to joy the dying King, With sighed 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. K. John, 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 diedest the servant of our Saviour Christ. Now joy betide thy soul: what noise is this? K. John, for not effecting of thy plighted vow, This strange annoyance happens to thy Land: But yet be reconciled unto the Church, And nothing shall be grievous to thy state. Fear not king John, thy kingdom is the Popes, And they shall know his Holiness hath power, To beat them soon from whence he hath to do. Philip not so, but I will to the Prince, And bring him face to face to parley with you.