Czcionka:Mniejsze АаWiększe Aa
[Scene x]
Enter five or sixe Protestants with bookes, and kneele together.
Enter also the Guise [and others].
GUISE. Downe with the Hugonites, murder them.
PROTESTANT. O Mounser de Guise, heare me but speake.
GUISE. No villain, no that toung of thine,
That hath blasphemde the holy Church of Rome,
Shall drive no plaintes into the Guises eares,
To make the justice of my heart relent:
Tue, tue, tue, let none escape:
Kill them.
So, dragge them away.
Exeunt
[Scene xi]
Enter [Charles] the King of France, Navar and Epernoune staying him: enter Queene Mother, and the Cardinall [of Loraine, and Pleshe].
CHARLES. O let me stay and rest me heer a while,
A griping paine hath ceasde upon my heart:
A sodaine pang, the messenger of death.
QUEENE MOTHER. O say not so, thou kill'st thy mothers heart.
CHARLES. I must say so, paine forceth me to complain.
NAVARRE. Comfort your selfe my Lord I have no doubt,
But God will sure restore you to your health.
CHARLES. O no, my loving brother of Navarre.
I have deserv'd a scourge I must confesse,
Yet is there pacience of another sort,
Then to misdoe the welfare of their King:
God graunt my neerest freends may prove no worse.
O horde me up, my sight begins to faire,
My sinnewes shrinke, my brain turns upside downe,
My heart doth break, I faint and dye.
He dies.
QUEENE MOTHER. What art thou dead, sweet sonne? speak to thy Mother.
O no, his soule is fled from out his breast,
And he nor heares, nor sees us what we doe:
My Lords, what resteth now for to be done?
But that we presently despatch Embassadours
To Poland, to call Henry back againe,
To weare his brothers crowne and dignity.
Epernoune, goe see it presently be done,
And bid him come without delay to us.
Epernoune Madam, I will.
Exit Epernoune.
QUEENE MOTHER. And now my Lords after these funerals be done,
We will with all the speed we can, provide
For Henries coronation from Polonia:
Come let us take his body hence.
All goe out, but Navarre and Pleshe.
NAVARRE. And now Navarre whilste that these broiles doe last,
My opportunity may serve me fit,
To steale from France, and hye me to my home.
For heers no saftie in the Realme for me,
And now that Henry is cal'd from Polland,
It is my due by just succession:
And therefore as speedily as I can perfourme,
Ile muster up an army secretdy,
For feare that Guise joyn'd with the King of Spaine,
Might seek to crosse me in mine enterprise.
But God that alwaies doth defend the right,
Will shew his mercy and preserve us still.
PLESHE. The vertues of our poor Religion,
Cannot but march with many graces more:
Whose army shall discomfort all your foes,
And at the length in Pampelonia crowne,
In spite of Spaine and all the popish power,
That hordes it from your highnesse wrongfully:
Your Majestie her rightfull Lord and Soveraigne.
Navarre Truth Pleshe, and God so prosper me in all,
As I entend to labour for the truth,
And true profession of his holy word:
Come Pleshe, lets away while time doth serve.
Exeunt
[Scene xii]
Sound Trumpets within, and then all crye vive le Roy two or three times.
Enter Henry crowned: Queene [Mother], Cardinall [of Loraine], Duke of Guise, Epernoone, [Mugeroun,] the kings Minions, with others, and the Cutpurse.
ALL. Vive le Roy, vive le Roy.
Sound Trumpets.
QUEENE MOTHER. Welcome from Poland Henry once agayne,
Welcome to France thy fathers royall seate,
Heere hast thou a country voice of feares,
A warlike people to maintaine thy right,
A watchfull Senate for ordaining lawes,
A loving mother to preserve thy state,
And all things that a King may wish besides:
All this and more hath Henry with his crowne.
CARDINALL. And long may Henry enjoy all this and more.
ALL. Vive le Roy, vive le Roy.
Sound trumpets.
KING. Thanks to you al. The guider of all crownes,
Graunt that our deeds may wel deserve your loves:
And so they shall, if fortune speed my will,
And yeeld our thoughts to height of my desertes.
What say our Minions, think they Henries heart
Will not both harbour love and Majestie?
Put of that feare, they are already joynde,
No person, place, or time, or circumstance,
Shall slacke my loves affection from his bent.
As now you are, so shall you still persist,
Remooveles from the favours of your King.
MUGEROUN. We know that noble minces change not their thoughts
For wearing of a crowne: in that your grace,
Hath worne the Poland diadem, before
You were withvested in the crowne of France.
KING. I tell thee Mugeroun we will be freends,
And fellowes to, what ever stormes arise.
MUGEROUN. Then may it please your Majestie to give me leave,
To punish those that doe prophane this holy feast.
He cuts of the Cutpurse eare, for cutting of the golde
buttons off his cloake.
KING. How meanst thou that?
CUTPURSE. O Lord, mine eare.
MUGEROUN. Come sir, give me my buttons and heers your eare.
GUISE. Sirra, take him away.
KING. Hands of good fellow, I will be his baile
For this offence: goe sirra, worke no more,
Till this our Coronation day be past:
And now,
Our rites of Coronation done,
What now remaines, but for a while to feast,
And spend some daies in barriers, tourny, tylte,
And like disportes, such as doe fit the Coutr?
Lets goe my Lords, our dinner staies for us.
Goe out all, but the Queene [Mother] and the Cardinall.
QUEENE MOTHER. My Lord Cardinall of Loraine, tell me,
How likes your grace my sonnes pleasantnes?
His mince you see runnes on his minions,
And all his heaven is to delight himselfe:
And whilste he sleepes securely thus in ease,
Thy brother Guise and we may now provide,
To plant our selves with such authoritie,
That not a man may live without our leaves.
Then shall the Catholick faith of Rome,
Flourish in France, and none deny the same.
Cardinall Madam, as I in secresy was tolde,
My brother Guise hath gathered a power of men,
Which are he saith, to kill the Puritans,
But tis the house of Burbon that he meanest
Now Madam must you insinuate with the King,
And tell him that tis for his Countries good,
And common profit of Religion.
QUEENE MOTHER. Tush man, let me alone with him,
To work the way to bring this thing to passe:
And if he doe deny what I doe say,
Ile dispatch him with his brother presently.
And then shall Mounser weare the diadem.
Tush, all shall dye unles I have my will:
For while she lives Katherine will be Queene.
Come my Lord, let us goe to seek the Guise,
And then determine of this enterprise.
Exeunt
[Scene xiii]
Enter the Duchesse of Guise, and her Maide.
DUCHESSE. Goe fetch me pen and inke.
MAID. I will Madam.
Exit Maid.
DUCHESSE. That I may write unto my dearest Lord.
Sweet Mugeroune, tis he that hath my heart,
And Guise usurpes it, cause I am his wife:
Faine would I finde some means to speak with him
But cannot, and therfore am enforst to write,
That he may come and meet me in some place,
Where we may one injoy the others sight.
Enter the Maid with Inke and Paper.
So, set it down and leave me to my selfe.
O would to God this quill that heere doth write,
She writes.
Had late been plucks from out faire Cupids wing:
That it might print these lines within his heart.
Enter the Guise.
GUISE. What, all alone my love, and writing too:
I prethee say to whome thou writes?
DUCHESSE. To such a one, as when she reads my lines,
Will laugh I feare me at their good aray.
GUISE. I pray thee let me see.
DUCHESSE. O no my Lord, a woman only must
Partake the secrets of my heart.
GUISE. But Madam I must see.
He takes it.
Are these your secrets that no man must know?
DUCHESSE. O pardon me my Lord.
GUISE. Thou trothles and unjust, what lines are these?
Am I growne olde, or is thy lust growne yong,
Or hath my love been so obscurde in thee,
That others need to comment on my text?
Is all my love forgot which helde thee deare?
I, dearer then the apple of mine eye?
Is Guises glory but a clowdy mist,
In sight and judgement of thy lustfull eye?
Mor du, were not the fruit within thy wombe,
On whose encrease I set some longing hope:
This wrathfull hand should strike thee to the hart
Hence strumpet, hide thy head for shame,
And fly my presence if thou look'st to live.
Exit [Duchesse].
O wicked sexe, perjured and unjust,
Now doe I see that from the very first,
Her eyes and lookes sow'd seeds of perjury,
But villaine he to whom these lines should goe,
Shall buy her love even with his dearest bloud.