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THE MASSACRE →
AT PARIS. VVith the Death of the Duke of Guise.
Enter Charles the French King, the Queene Mother, the King of Nauarre, the Pri•ce of Condye, the Lord high Admirall, and the Queene of Nauarre, with others.
PRince of Nauarre my honourable brother,
Prince Condy, and my good Lord Admirall,
I Wishe this vnion and religious league,
Knit in these hands thus ioyn'd in nuptiall rites,
May not desolue, till death desolue our liues,
And that the natiue sparkes of princely loue,
May still be feweld in our progenye.
The many fauours which your grace hath showne,
From time to time, but specially in this:
Shall binde me euer to your highnes will,
In what Queen Mother or your grace commands.
Thanks sonne Nauarre, you see we loue you well,
That linke you in mariage with our daughter heer:
And as you know our difference in Religion,
Might be a meanes to crosse you in your loue.
Well Madam, let that rest:
And now my Lords the mariage rites perfourm'd,
We think it good to goe and consumate the rest,
With hearing of a holy Masse: Sister, I think your selfe will beare vs company.
I will my good Lord,
The rest that will not goe (my Lords) may stay:
Come Mother let vs goe to honor this solemnitie.
VVhich Ile desolue with bloud and crueltie.
Exit the King, Q Mother, and the Q. of Nauar, and manet Nauar, the Prince of Condy, and the Lord high Admirall.
Prince Condy and my good L. Admiral,
Now Guise may storme but doe vs little hurt:
Hauing the King, Qu. Mother on our sides,
To stop the mallice of his enuious heart,
Haue you not heard of late how he decreed,
If that the King had giuen consent thereto,
That all the protestants that are in Paris,
Should haue been murdered the other night?
My Lord I meruaile that th'aspiring Guise,
Dares once aduenture without the Kings consent,
To meddle or attempt such dangerous things.
My L. you need not meruaile at the Guise,
For what he doth the Pope will ratifie:
In murder, mischeefe, or in tiranny.
But he that sits and rules aboue the clowdes,
Doth heare and see the praiers of the iust:
And will reuenge the bloud of innocents,
That Guise hath slaine by treason of his heart,
And brought by murder to their timeles ends.
My Lord, but did you mark the Cardinall,
The Guises brother and the Duke Dumain:
How they did storme at these your nuptiallrites,
Because the house of Burbon now comes in,
And ioynes your linnage to the crowne of France?
And thats ye cause that Guise so frowns at vs,
And beates his braines to catch vs in his trap:
Which he hath pitcht within his deadly toyle.
Come my Lords lets go to the Church and pray,
That God may still defend the right of France:
And make his Gospel flourish in this land.
Enter the Duke of Guise.
If euer Hymen lowr'd at marriage rites,
And had his alters deckt with duskie lightes:
And made 〈◊〉 look with terrour on the worlde:
If euer day were turned to vgly night.
And night made semblance of the hue of hell,
This day, this houre, this fatall night,
Shall fully shew the fury of them all,
Enter the Pothecarie.
Now shall I proue and guerdon to the ful,
The loue thou bear'st vnto the house of Guise:
Where are those perfumed gloues which I sent
To be poysoned, hast thou done them? speake,
Will euery sauour breed a pangue of death?
See where they be my good Lord,
And he that smelles but to them, dyes.
Then thou remainest resolute.
I am my Lord, in what your grace commaundes till death.
Thankes my good freend, I wil requite thy loue,
Goe then present them to the Queene Nauarre:
For she is that huge blemish in our eye,
That makes these vpstart heresies in Fraunce:
Be gone my freend present them to her straite.
Enter a Souldier.
Now come thou forth and play thy tragick part.
Stand in some window opening neere the street,
Discharge thy musket and perfourme his death:
And then Ile guerdon thee with store of crownes.
Now Guise begins those deepe ingendred thoughts,
To burst abroad those neuer dying flames,
Which cannot be extinguisht but by bloud.
Oft haue I leueld, and at last haue learnd,
That perill is the cheefest way to happines,
And resolution honors fairest aime.
What glory is there in a common good,
That hanges for euery peasant to atchiue?
That like I best that flyes beyond my reach,
Set me to scale the high Peramides,
And thereon set the Dradem of Fraunce,
Ile either rend it with my nayles to naught,
Or mount the top with my aspiring winges,
Although my downfall be the deepest hell.
For this, I wake, when others think I sleepe,
For this, I waite, that scornes attendance else:
For this, my quenchles thirst whereon I builde,
Hath often pleaded kindred to the King.
For this, this head, this heart, this hand and sworde,
Contriues, imagines and fully executes,
Matters of importe, aimde at by many,
Yet vnderstoode by none.
For this, hath heauen engendred me of earth,
For this, this earth sustaines my bodies waight,
And with this wiat Ile counterpoise a Crowne,
For this, from Spaine the stately Catholickes,
Sends Indian golde to coyne me French ecues:
For this haue I a largesse from the Pope,
A pension and a dispensation too:
And by that priuiledge to worke vpon,
My policye hath framde religion,
Religion: O Diabole.
Fye, I am ashamde how euer that I seeme,
To think a word of such a simple sound,
Of so great matter should be made the ground.
The gentle King whose pleasure vncontrolde,
Weakneth his body, and will waste his Realme,
If I repaire not what he ruinates:
Him as a childe I dayly winne with words,
So that for proofe, he barely beares the name:
I execute, and he sustaines the blame.
The Mother Queene workes wonders for my sake,
And in my loue entombes the hope of Fraunce:
Rifling the bowels of her treasurie,
To supply my wants and necessitie.
Paris hath full fiue hundred Colledges,
As Monestaries, Priories, Abbyes and halles,
Wherein are thirtie thousand able men,
Besides a thousand sturdy student Catholicks,
And more of my knowledge in one cloyster keeps,
Fiue hundred fatte Franciscan Fryers and priestes.
All this and more, if more may be comprisde,
To bring the will of our desires to end.
Within thy hands to shuffle or cut, take this as surest thing:
That right or wrong, thou deale thy selfe a King.
I but, Nauarre, Nauarre, tis but a nook of France,
Sufficient yet for such a pettie King:
That with a rablement of his hereticks,
Blindes Europs eyes and troubleth our estate:
Him will we
Pointing to his Sworde.
But first lets follow those in France,
That hinder our possession to the crowne:
As Caesar to his souldiers, so say I:
Those that hate me, will I learn to loath.
Giue me a look, that when I bend the browes,
Pale death may walke in furrowes of my face:
A hand, that with a graspe may gripe the world,
An eare, to heare what my detractors say,
A royall seate, a scepter and a crowne:
That those which doe beholde, they may become
As men that stand and gase against the Sunne.
The plot is laide, and things shall come to passe:
Where resolution striues for victory.
Enter the King of Nauar and Queen, and his Mother Queen, the Prince of Condy, the Admirall, and the Pothecary with the gloues, and giues them to the olde Queene.
Maddame, I beseech your grace to except this simple gift.
I humbly thank your Maiestie.
Me thinkes the gloues haue a very strong perfume,
The sent whereof doth make my head to ake.
Doth not your grace know the man that gaue them you?
Not wel, but do remember such a man.
Your grace was ill aduisde to take thē then,
Considering of these dangerous times.
Help sonne Nauarre I am poysoned.
The heauens forbid your highnes such mishap.
The late suspition of the Duke of Guise,
Might well haue moued your highnes to beware:
How you did meddle with such dangerous giftes.
Too late it is my Lord if that be true
To blame her highnes, but I hope it be
Only some naturall passion makes her sicke.
O d Qu
O no, sweet Margret, the fatall poyson
Workes within my head, my brain pan breakes,
My heart doth faint, I dye.
My Mother poysoned heere before my face:
O gracious God, what times are these?
O graunt sweet God my daies may end with hers,
That I with her may dye and liue againe.
Let not this heauy chaunce my dearest Lord,
•nfect thy gracious brest with fresh supply,
•o agrauate our sodaine miserie.
Come my Lords let vs beare her body hence,
•nd see it honoured with iust solemnitie.
As they are going, the Souldier dischargeth his Musket at the Lord Admirall.
VVhat are you hurt my L. high Admiral?
I my good Lord shot through the arme.
VVe are betraide come my Lords, and let vs goe tell the King of this.
These are the cursed Guisians that doe seeke our death.
Oh fatall was this mariage to vs all.
They beare away the Queene and goe out.
Enter the King, Queene Mother, Duke of Guise, Duke Anioy, Duke Demayne.
My noble sonne, and princely Duke of Guise,
Now haue we got the fatall stragling deere:
VVithin the compasse of a deadly toyle,
And as we late decreed we may perfourme.
Madam, it wilbe noted through the world,
An action bloudy and tirannicall:
Cheefely since vnder safetie of our word,
They iustly challenge their protection:
Besides my heart relentes that noble men,
Onely corrupted in religion, Ladies of honor,
Knightes and Gentlemen, should for their con∣science taste such rutheles ends.
Though gentle mindes should pittie others paines,
Yet will the wisest note their proper greefes:
And rather seeke to scourge their enemies,
Then be themselues base subiects to the whip.
Me thinkes my Lord, Anioy hath well aduisde,
Your highnes to consider of the thing,
And rather chuse to seck your countries good,
Then pittie or releeue these vp start hereticks.
I hope these reasons may serue my princely Sonne,
To haue some care for feare of enemies:
Well Madam, I referre it to your Maiestie,
And to my Nephew heere the Duke of Guise:
What you determine, I will ratifie.
Thankes to my princely sonne, then tell me Guise,
What order wil you set downe for the ←
They that shalbe actors in this ←
Shall weare white crosses on their Burgonets:
And tye white linnen scarfes about their armes.
He that wantes these, and is suspected of heresie,
Shall dye, be he King or Emperour.
Then Ile haue a peale of ordinance shot from the tower,
At which they all shall issue out and set the streetes.
And then the watchword being giuen, a bell shall ring,
Which when they heare, they shall begin to kill:
And neuer cease vntill that bell shall cease,
Then breath a while.
Enter the Admirals man.
How now fellow, what newes?
And it please your grace the Lord high Admirall,
Riding the streetes was traiterously shot,
And most humble intreates your Maiestie
To vifite him sick in his bed.
Messenger, tell him I will see him straite.
What shall we doe now with the Admirall?
Your Maiesty were best goe visite him,
And make a shew as if all were well.
Content, I will goe visite the Admirall.
And I will goe take order for his death.
Enter the Admirall in his bed.
How fares it with my Lord high Admiral,
Hath he been hurt with villaines in the street?
I vow and sweare as I am King of France,
To finde and to repay the man with death:
With death delay'd and torments neuer vsde,
That durst presume for hope of any gaine,
To hurt the noble man their soueraign loues.
Ah my good Lord, these are the Guisians,
That seeke to ←
our guiltles liues.
Assure your selfe my good Lord Admirall,
I deepely sorrow for your trecherous wrong:
And that I am not more secure my selfe,
Then I am carefull you should be preserued.
Cofin, take twenty of our strongest guarde,
And vnder your direction see they keep,
All trecherous violence from our noble freend,
Repaying all attempts with present death,
Vpon the cursed breakers of our peace.
And so be pacient good Lord Admirall,
And euery hower I will visite you.
I humbly thank your royall Maiestie.
Guise, Anioy, Dumaine, Gonzago, Retes, Montsorrell, and Souldiers to the ←
Anioy, Dumaine, Gonzago, Retes,
Sweare by the argent crosses in your burgoners,
To kill all that you suspect of heresie.
I sweare by this to be vnmercifull.
I am disguisde and none knows who I am.
And therfore meane to murder all I meet.
Away then, break into the Admirals house,
I let the Admirall be first dispatchr.
The Admirall cheefe standard bearer to the Lutheranes,
Shall in the entrance of this ←
Be murdered in his bed. Gonzago conduct them thither,
And then beset his house that not a man may liue.
That charge is mine, Swizers keepe you the streetes,
And at ech corner shall the Kings garde stand.
Come sirs follow me.
Exit Gonzago and others with him.
Cosin, the Captaine of the Admirals guarde,
Plac'd by my brother, will betray his Lord:
Now Guise shall catholiques flourish once againe,
The head being of, the members cannot stand.
But look my Lord, ther's some in the Admirals house.
Enter into the Admirals house, and he in his bed.
In lucky time, come let vs keep this lane,
And slay his seruants that shall issue out.
Where is the Admirall?
O let me pray before I dye.
Then pray vnto our Ladye, kisse this crosse.
O God forgiue my sins.
Gonzago, what, is he dead?
Then throw him down.
Now cosin view him well, it may be it is some other, and he escapte.
Cosin tis he, I know him by his look.
He mist him neer, but we haue strook him now.
Ah base Shatillian and degenerate, cheef standard bearer to the Lutheranes,
Thus in despite of thy Religion,
The Duke of Guise stampes on thy liueles bulke.
A way with him, cut of his head and handes.
And send them for a present to the Pope:
And when this iust reuenge is finished,
Vnto mount Faucon will we dragge his coarse:
And he that liuing hated so the crosse,
Shall being dead, be hangd thereon in chaines.
Anioy, Gonzago, Retes, if that you three,
Will be as resolute as I and Dumaine:
There shall not a Hugonet breath in France.
I sweare by this crosse, wee'l not be partiall,
But slay as many as we can come neer.
Mountsorrell, goe shoote the ordinance of,
That they which haue already set the street
May know their watchword, then tole the bell,
And so lets forward to the ←
And now my Lords let vs closely to our busines.
Anioy will follow thee.
The ordinance being shot of, the bell tolles.
Come then, lets away.
enters againe, with all the rest, with their Swords drawne, chasing the Protestants.
Tue tue, tue, let none escape, murder the Hugonets.
Kill them, kill them.
Enter Loreine running, the Guise and the rest pursuing him.
Loreine, Loreine, follow Loreine, Sirra,
Are you a preacher of these heresies?
I am a preacher of the word of God,
And thou a traitor to thy soule and him.
Dearely beloued brother, thus tis written.
he stabs him.
Stay my Lord, let me begin the psalme.
Come dragge him away and throw him in a ditch.
Enter Mountsorrell and knocks at Serouns doore.
Who is that which knocks there?
Mountsorrell from the Duke of Guise.
Husband come down, heer's one would speak with you from the Duke of Guise.
To speek with me from such a man as he?
I, I, for this Seroune, and thou shalt hate.
shewing his dagger.
O let me pray before I take my death.
Despatch then quickly.
Christ, villaine, why darst thou presume to call on Christ, without the intercession of some Saint? Sancta Iacobus hee was my Saint, pray to him.
O let me pray vnto my God.
Then take this with you.
Enter Ramus in his studie.
What fearfull cries comes from the riuer Rene,
That frightes poore Ramus sitting at his book?
I feare the Guisians haue past the bridge,
And meane once more to menace me.
Flye Ramus flye, if thou wilt saue thy life,
Tell me Taleus, wherfore should I flye?
The Guisians are hard at thy doore, and meane to murder vs: harke, harke they come, Ile leap out at the window.
Sweet Taleus stay.
Enter Gonzago and Retes.
Tis Taleus, Ramas bedfellow.
I am as Ramus is, a Christian.
O let him goe, he is a catholick.
Come Ramus, more golde, or thou shalt haue the stabbe.
Alas I am a scholler, how should I haue golde?
All that I haue is but my stipend from the King,
Which is no sooner receiu'd but it is spent.
Enter the Guise and Anioy.
Who haue you there?
Tis Ramus, the Kings professor of Logick.
O good my Lord, wherein hath Ramus been so offencious.
Marry sir, in hauing a smack in all,
And yet didst neuer sound any thing to the depth.
Was it not thou that scoftes the Organon,
And said it was a heape of vanities?
He that will be a flat decotamest,
And seen in nothing but Epetomies:
Is in your iudgment thought a learned man.
And he forsooth must goe and preach in Germany:
Excepting against Doctors actions,
And ipsi dixi with this quidditie,
Argumentum testimonis est in arte fetialis.
How answere you that? your nego argumentum cannot serue, sirra, kill him.
O good my Lord, let me but speak a word.
Not for my life doe I desire this pause,
But in my latter houre to purge my selfe,
In that I know the things that I haue wrote,
Which as I heare one Shekins takes it ill:
Because my places being but three, contains all his:
I knew the Organon to be confusde,
And I reduc'd it into better forme.
And this for Aristotle will I say,
That he that despiseth him, can nere
Be good in Logick or Philosophie.
And thats because the blockish thorbonest,
Attribute as much vnto their workes,
As to the seruice of the eternall God.
Why suffer you that peasant to declaime?
Stab him I say and send him to his freends in hell.
Nere was there Colliars sonne so full of pride.
My Lord of Anioy, there are a hundred Protestants.
Which we haue chaste into the riuer Rene,
That swim about and so preserue their liues:
How may we doe? I feare me they will liue.
Goe place some men vpon the bridge,
With bowes and dartes to shoot at them they see,
And sinke them in the riuer as they swim.
Tis well aduisde Dumain, goe see it strait be done.
And in the mean time my Lord, could we deuise,
To get those pedantes from the King Nauarre,
that are tutors to him and the prince of Condy.
For that let me alone, Cousin stay you heer,
And when you see me in, then follow hard.
He knocketh, and enter the King of Nauarre and Prince of Condy, with their scholmaisters.
How now my Lords, how fare you?
My Lord, they say that all the protestants are massacred.
I, so they are, but yet what remedy:
I haue done what I could to stay this broile.
But yet my Lord the report doth run,
That you were one that made this ←
Who I, you are deceiued, I rose but now.
Murder the Hugonets, take those pedantes hence.
Thou traitor Guise, lay of thy bloudy hands.
Come let vs goe tell the King.
Come sirs, Ile whip you to death with my punniards point.
he kils them.
A way with them both.
And now sirs for this night let our fury stay.
Yet will we not that the ←
Gonzago poste you to Orleance,
Retes to Deep, Mountsorrell vnto Roan,
And spare not one that you suspect of heresy.
and now stay that bel that to ye deuils mattins rings
And so conuey him closely to his bed.
Enter Anioy, with two Lords of Poland.
My Lords of Poland I must needs confesse,
The offer of your Prince Electors, farre
Beyond the reach of my desertes:
For Poland is as I haue been enformde,
A martiall people, worthy such a King,
As hath sufficient counsaile in himselfe,
To lighten doubts and frustrate subtile foes.
And such a King whom practise long hath taught,
To please himselfe with mannage of the warres.
The greatest warres within our Christian bounds,
I meane our warres against the Muscouites:
And on the other side against the Turke,
Rich Princes both, and mighty Emperours:
Yet by my brother Charles our King of France,
And by his graces councell it is thought,
that if I vndertake to weare the crowne
Of Poland, it may preiudice their hope
Of my inheritance to the crowne of France:
For if th'almighty take my brother hence,
By due discent the Regall seat is mine.
With Poland therfore must I couenant thus,
That if by death of Charles, the diadem
Of France be cast on me, then with your leaues
I may retire me to my natiue home.
I thankfully shall vndertake the charge
Of you and yours, and carefully maintaine
the wealth and safety of your kingdomes right.
All this and more your highnes shall commaund,
For Polands crowne and kingly diadem.
Then come my Lords, lets goe.
Enter two with the Admirals body.
Now sirra, what shall we doe with the Admirall?
Why let vs burne him for an heretick.
O no, his bodye will infect the fire, and the fire the aire, and so we shall be poysoned with him.
What shall we doe then?
Lets throw him into the riuer.
Oh twill corrupt the water, and the water the fish, and by the fish our selues when we cate them.
Then throw him into the ditch.
No, no, to decide all doubts, be rulde by me, lets hang him heere vpon this tree.
They hang him.
Enter the Duke of Guise, and Queene Mother, and the Cardinall.
Now Madame, how like you our lusty Admirall?
Beleeue me Guise he becomes the place so well,
As I could long ere this haue wisht him there.
But come lets walke aside, thair's not very sweet.
No by my faith Madam.
Sirs, take him away and throw him in some ditch.
carry away the dead body.
And now Madam as I vnderstand,
There are a hundred Hugonets and more,
Which in the woods doe holde their synagogue:
And dayly meet about this time of day,
And thither will I to put them to the sword.
Doe so sweet Guise, let vs delay no time,
For if these straglers gather head againe,
And disperse themselues throughout the Realme of France,
It will be hard for vs to worke their deaths.
Be gone, delay no time sweet Guise.
Madam, I goe as whirl-windes rage before a storme,
My Lord of Loraine haue you markt of late,
How Charles our sonne begins for to lament:
For the late nights worke which my Lord of Guise
Did make in Paris amongst the Hugonites?
Madam, I haue heard him solemnly vow,
With the rebellious King of Nauarre,
For to reuenge their deaths vpon vs all.
I, but my Lord let me alone for that,
For Katherine must haue her will in France:
As I doe liue, so surely shall he dye.
And if he grudge or crosse his Mothers will,
Ile disinherite him and all the rest:
For Ile rule France, but they shall weare the crowne:
And if they storme, I then may pull them downe.
Come my Lord lets vs goe.
Enter fiue or sixe Protestants with bookes, and kneele to∣gether.
Enter also the Guise.
Downe with the Hugonites, murder them.
O Mounser de Guise, heare me but speake.
No villain, that toung of thine,
That hath blasphemde the holy Church of Rome,
Shall driue no plaintes into the Guises eares,
To make the iustice of my heart relent:
Tue, tue, tue, let none escape:
So, dragge them away.
Enter the King of France, Nauar and Epernoune stay∣ing him: enter Qu. Mother, and the Cardinall.
O let me stay and rest me heer a while,
A griping paine hath ceasde vpon my heart:
A sodaine pang, the messenger of death.
O say not so, thou kill'st thy mothers heart.
I must say so, paine forceth me complaine.
Comfort your selfe my Lord and haue no doubt,
But God will sure restore you to your health.
O no, my louing brother of Nauarre.
Yet is there pacience of another sort,
Then to misdoe the welfare of their King:
God graunt my neerest freends may proue no worse.
O holde me vp, my sight begins to faile,
My sinnewes shrinke, my braines turne vpside downe,
My heart doth break, I faint and dye.
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 vs what we doe:
My Lords, what resteth there 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 vs.
And now my Lords after these funerals be done,
We will with all the speed we can prouide,
For Henries coronation from Polonie:
Come let vs take his body hence.
All goe out, but Nauarre and Pleshe.
And now Nauarre whilste that these broiles doe last,
My opportunity may serue me fit,
To steale from France, and hye me to my home.
And now that Henry is cal'd from Polland,
It is my due by iust succession:
And therefore as speedily as I can perfourme,
Ile muster vp an army secretly,
For feare that Guise ioyn'd with the K. of Spaine,
Might seeme to crosse me in mine enterprise.
But God that alwaies doth defend the right,
Will shew his mercy and preserue vs still.
The vertues of our true 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 holdes it from your highnesse wrongfully:
Your Maiestie her rightfull Lord and Soueraigne.
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 whilste time doth serue,
Sound Trumpets within, and then all crye viue la Roy two or three times.
Enter Henry crownd: Queene, Cardinall, Duke of Guise, Epernoone, the kings Mintons, with others, and the Cutpurse.
Viue la Roy, viue la Roy,
Welcome from Poland Henry once agayne,
Heere hast thou a country voide of feares,
A warlike people to maintaine thy right,
A watchfull Senate for ordaining lawes,
A louing mother to preserue thy state,
And all things that a King may wish besides:
All this and more hath Henry with his crowne.
And long may Henry enioy all this & more,
Viue la Roy, viue la Roy.
Thanks to you al. The guider of all crownes,
Graunt that our deeds may wel deserue your loues:
And so they shall, if fortune speed my will,
And yeeld your thoughts to height of my desertes.
What saies our Minions, think they Henries heart
Will not both harbour loue and Maiestie?
Put of that feare, they are already ioynde,
No person, place, or time, or circumstance,
Shall slacke my loues affection from his bent,
As now you are, so shall you still persist,
Remooueles from the fauours of your King.
We know that noble mindes change not their thoughts
For wearing of a crowne: in that your grace,
Hath worne the Poland diadem, before
you were inuested in the crowne of France:
I tell thee Mugeroun we will be freends,
And fellowes to, what euer stormes arise.
Then may it please your Maiestie to giue me leaue,
He cuts of the Cutpurse eare, for cutting of the golde buttons off his cloake.
How meanst thou that?
O Lord, mine eare.
Come sir, giue me my buttons and heers your eare.
Sirra, take him away.
Hands of good sellow, I will be his baile
For this offence: goe sirra, worke no more,
Till this our Coronation day be past:
And now our solemne 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 Court?
Lets goe my Lords, our dinner staies for vs.
Goe out all, but the Queene and the Cardinall.
My Lord Cardinall of Loraine, tell me,
How likes your grace my sonnes pleasantnes?
His minde you see runnes on his minions,
And all his heauen is to delight himselfe:
And whilste he sleepes securely thus in ease,
Thy brother Guise and we may now prouide,
To plant our selues with such authoritie,
as not a man may liue without our leaues.
Then shall the Catholick faith of Rome,
Flourish in France, and none deny the same,
Madam, as in secrecy I was tolde,
Which as he saith, to kill the Puritans,
But tis the house of Burbon that he meanes.
Now Madam must you insinuate with the King,
And tell him that tis for his Countries good,
And common profit of Religion.
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 vnles I haue my will.
For while she liues Katherine will be Queene.
Come my Lords, let vs goe seek the Guise,
And then determine of this enterprise.
Enter the Duchesse of Guise, and her Maide,
Goe fetch me pen and inke.
That I may write vnto my dearest Lord.
Sweet Mugeroune, tis he that hath my heart,
And Guise vsurpes 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 inioy the others sight.
Enter the Maid with Inke and Paper.
So, set it down and leaue me to my selfe.
She writes. O would to God this quill that heere doth write,
Had late been pluckt from out faire Cupids wing:
Enter the Guise.
What, all alone my loue, and writing too:
Iprethee say to whome thou writes?
To such a one my Lord, as when she reads my lines, will laugh I feare me at their good aray.
I pray thee let me see.
O no my Lord, a woman only must partake the secrets of my heart.
But Madam I must see.
he takes it.
Are these your secrets that no man must know?
O pardon me my Lord.
Thou trothles and vniust, what lines are these?
Am I growne olde, or is thy lust growne yong,
Or hath my loue been so obscurde in thee,
That others needs to comment on my text?
Isall my loue forgot which helde thee deare?
I, dearer then the apple of mine eye?
Is Guises glory but a clowdy mist,
In sight and iudgement of thy lustfull eye?
Mor du, wert not the fruit within thy wombe,
Of 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 looke to liue.
O wicked sexe, periured and vniust,
Now doe I see that from the very first,
But villaine he to whom these lines should goe,
Shall buy her loue euen with his dearest bloud.
Enter the King of Nauarre, Pleshe and Bartus, and their train, with drums and trumpets.
My Lords, sith in a quarrell iust and right,
We vndertake to mannage these our warres:
Against the proud disturbers of the faith,
I meane the Guise, the Pope, and King of Spaine,
Who set themselues to tread vs vnder foot,
And rent our true religion from this land.
But for you know our quarrell is no more,
But to defend their strange inuentions,
Which they will put vs to with sword and fire:
We must with resolute mindes resolue to fight,
In honor of our God and countries good.
Spaine is the counsell chamber of the pope,
Spaine is the place where he makes peace and warre,
And Guise for Spaine hath now incenst the King,
To send his power to meet vs in the field.
Then in this bloudy brunt they may beholde,
The sole endeuour of your princely care,
To plant the true succession of the faith,
In spite of Spaine and all his heresies.
The power of vengeance now incampes it selfe,
Vpon the hauty mountains of my brest:
plaies with her goary coulours of reuenge,
Whom I respect as leaues of boasting greene,
That change their coulour when the winter comes,
When I shall vaunt as victor in reuenge.
Enter a Messenger.
How now sirra, what newes?
My Lord, as by our scoutes we vnder∣stande,
A mighty army comes from France with speed:
Which are already mustered in the land,
And meanes to meet your highnes in the field.
In Gods name, let them come.
This is the Guise that hath incenst the King,
To leauy armes and make these ciuill broyless
But canst thou tell who is their generall?
Noty et my Lord, for thereon doe they stay:
But as report doth goe, the Duke of Ioyeux
Hath made great sute vnto the King therfore.
It will not counteruaile his paines I hope,
I would the Guise in his steed might haue come,
But he doth lurke within his drousie couch,
And makes his footstoole on securitie:
So he be safe he cares not what becomes,
Of King or Country, no not for them both.
But come my Lords, let vs away with speed,
Enter the King of France, Duke of Guise, Epernoune, and Duke Ioyeux.
My sweet Ioyeux, I make thee Generall,
Of all my army now in readines:
To march against the rebellious King Nauarre.
At thy request I am content thou goe,
Although my loue to thee can hardly suffer,
Regarding still the danger of thy life.
Thanks to your Maiestie, and so I take my leaue.
Farwell to my Lord of Guise and Epernoune,
Health and harty farwell to my Lord Ioyeux.
So kindely Cosin of Guise you and your wife doe both salute our louely Minions.
he makes hornes at the Guise.
Remember you the letter gentle sir, which your wife writ to my deare Minion, and her chosen freend?
How now my Lord, faith this is more then need,
Am I thus to be iested at and scornde?
Tis more then kingly or Emperious.
And sure if all the proudest Kings in
Christendome, should beare me such derision:
They should know how I scornde them and their mockes.
I know none els but holdes them in disgrace:
And heer by all the Saints in heauen I sweare,
That villain for whom I beare this deep disgrace:
Euen for your words that haue incenst me so,
Shall buy that strumpets fauour with his blood.
Whether he haue dishonoured me or no.
Par la mor du, Il mera.
Beleeue me this iest bites sore.
My Lord, twere good to make them frends
For his othes are seldome spent in vaine.
How now Mugeroun, metst thou not the Guise at the doore?
Not I my Lord, what if I had?
Marry if thou hadst, thou mightst haue had the stab,
For he hath solemnely sworne thy death.
I may be stabd, and liue till he be dead,
But wherfore beares he me such deadly hate?
Because his wife beares thee such kindely loue.
If that be all, the next time that I meet her,
Ile make her shake offloue with her heeles.
But which way is he gone, Ile goe make a walk on purpose from the Court to meet with him.
I like not this, come Epernoune lets goe seek the Duke and make them freends.
The Duke Ioyeux slaine.
The Duke is slaine and all his power dispearst,
And we are grac'd with wreathes of victory:
Thus God we see doth euer guide the right,
To make his glory great vpon the earth.
The terrour of this happy victory,
I hope will make the King surcease his hate:
And either neuer mannage army more▪
Or elso employ them in some better cause.
How many noble men haue lost their liues,
In prosecution of these cruell armes,
Is ruth and almost death to call to minde:
But God we know will alwaies put them downe,
That lift themselues against the perfect truth,
Which Ile maintaine so long as life doth last,
And with the Q. of England ioyne my force:
To beat the papall Monarck from our lands,
And keep those relicks from our countries coastes.
Come my Lords now that this storme is ouerpast,
Let vs away with triumph to our tents.
Enter a Souldier.
Sir, to you sir, that dares make the Duke a cuckolde,
And vse a counterfeite key to his priuie Chamber doore: And although
you take out nothing but your owne, yet you put in that which displeaseth him, and so fore∣stall his market, and set vp your standing where you should not: and whereas hee is your Landlord, you will take vpon you to be his, and tyll the ground that he himself should occupy, which is his own free land. If it be not too free there's the question: and though I come not to take possession (as I would I might) yet I meane to keepe you out, which I will if this geareholde: what are ye come so soone? haue at ye sir.
He shootes at him and killes him.
Enter the Guise.
Holde thee tall Souldier, take thee this and flye.
Lye there the Kings delight, and Guises scorne.
Reuenge it Henry as thou list or dare,
I did it only in despite of thee.
Take him away.
Enter the King and Epernoune.
My Lord of Guise, we vnderstand that you haue gathered a power of men, what your intent is yet we cannot learn, but we presume it is not for our good.
Why I am no traitor to the crowne of France.
What I haue done tis for the Gospell sake.
Nay for the Popes sake, and thine owne benefite.
What Peere in France but thou (aspiring Guise)
Durst be in armes without the Kings consent?
I challenge thee for treason in the cause.
Ah base Epernoune, were not his highnes heere,
Thou shouldst perceiue the D. of Guise is mou'd.
Be patient Guise and threat not Epernoune,
Least thou perceiue the King of France be mou'd.
Why? I am a Prince of the Valoyses line,
Therfore an enemy to the Burbonites.
I am a iuror in the holy league,
And therfore hated of the Protestants.
What should I doe but stand vpon my guarde?
And being able, Ile keep an hoast in pay.
Thou able to maintaine an hoast in pay,
That liuest by forraine exhibition.
The Pope and King of Spaine are thy good frends,
Else all France knowes how poor a Duke thou art.
I, those are they that feed him with their golde,
To counter maund our will and check our freends.
My Lord, to speak more plainely, thus it is▪
Being animated by Religious zeale,
I meane to muster all the power I can,
And know my Lord, the Pope will sell his triple crowne,
I, and the catholick Philip King of Spaine,
Ere I shall want, will cause his Indians,
To rip the golden bowels of America.
Nauarre that cloakes them vnderneath his wings▪
Shall feele the house of Lorayne is his foe:
Your highnes needs not feare mine armies force,
Tis for your safetie and your enemies wrack.
Guise, weare our crowne, and be thou King of France,
And as Dictator make or warre or peace,
Whilste I cry placet like a Senator,
I cannot brook thy hauty insolence,
Dismisse thy campe or else by our Edict,
Be thou proclaimde a traitor throughout France.
The choyse is hard, I must dissemble.
My Lord, in token of my true humilitie,
And simple meaning to your Maiestie:
I kisse your graces hand, and take my leaue,
Intending to dislodge my campe with speed.
Then farwell Guise, the King and thou are freends.
But trust him not my Lord, for had your highnesse,
Seene with what a pompe he entred Paris,
And how the Citizens with gifts and shewes
Did entertaine him and promised to be at his commaund:
That the Guise durst stand in armes against the King,
For not effecting of his holines will.
Did they of Paris entertaine him so?
Then meanes he present treason to our state.
Well, let me alone, whose within there?
Enter one with a pen and inke.
Make a discharge of all my counsell straite,
And Ile subscribe my name and seale it straight.
My head shall be my counsell, they are false:
And Epernoune I will be rulde by thee.
My Lord, I think for safety of your royall person,
It would be good the Guise were made away,
And so to quite your grace of all suspect.
First let vs set our hand and seale to this,
And then Ile tell thee what I meane to doe.
So, conuey this to the counsell presently.
And Epernoune though I seeme milde and calme,
Thinke not but I am tragicall within:
Ile secretly conuay me vnto Bloyse,
For now that Paris takes the Guises parte,
Heere is no staying for the King of France,
Vnles he meane to be betraide and dye:
But as I hue, so sure the Guise shall dye.
My Lord, I am aduertised from France,
That the Guise hath taken armes against the King,
And that Paris is reuolted from his grace.
Then hath your grace fit oportunitie,
To shew your loue vnto the King of France:
Offering him aide against his enemies,
Which cannot but be thankfully receiu'd.
Bartus, it shall be so, poast then to Fraunce,
And there salute his highnesse in our name,
Assure him all the aide we can prouide,
Against the Guisians and their complices.
Bartus be gone, commend me to his grace,
And tell him ere it be long, Ile visite him.
Pleshe, goe muster vp our men with speed,
And let them march away to France amaine:
For we must aide the King against the Guise.
Be gone I say, tis time that we were there.
That wicked Guise I feare me much will be,
The ruine of that famous Realme of France:
For his aspiring thoughts aime at the crowne,
And takes his vantage on Religion,
To plant the Pope and popelings in the Realme,
And binde it wholy to the Sea of Rome:
But if that God doe prosper mine attempts,
And send vs safely to arriue in France:
Wee'l beat him back, and driue him to his death,
That basely seekes the ruine of his Realme.
Enter the Captaine of the guarde, and three murtherers.
Come on sirs, what, are you resolutely bent,
Hating the life and honour of the Guise?
What, will you not feare when you see him come?
Feare him said you? tush, were he heere, we would kill him presently.
O that his heart were leaping in my hand.
But when will he come that we may murther him?
Well, then I see you are resolute.
Let vs alone, I warrant you.
Then sits take your standings within this Chamber,
For anon the Guise will come.
I, I, feare not, stand close, so be resolute:
Now fals the star whose influence gouernes France,
Whose light was deadly to the Protestants
Now must he fall and perish in his height.
Enter the King and Epernoune.
Now Captain of my guarde, are these murthe∣rers ready?
They be my good Lord.
But are they resolute and armde to kill,
Hating the life and honour of the Guise?
I warrant ye my Lord.
Then come proud Guise and heere disgordge thy brest,
Surchargde with surfet of ambitious thoughts:
Breath out that life wherein my death was hid,
And end thy endles treasons with thy death.
Enter the Guise and knocketh.
Halla verlete hey: Epernoune, where is the King?
Mounted his royall Cabonet.
I prethee tell him that the Guise is heere.
And please your grace the Duke of Guise,Page [unnumbered]
doth craue accesse vnto your highnes.
Let him come in.
Come Guise and see thy traiterous guile outreacht,
And perish in the pit thou mad'st for me.
The Guise comes to the King.
Good morrow to your Maiestie.
Good morrow to my louing Cousin of Guise.
How fares it this morning with your excel∣lence?
I heard your Maiestie was scarsely pleasde,
That in the Court I bare so great a traine.
They were to blame that said I was displeasde,
And you good Cosin to imagine it.
Twere hard with me if I should doubt my kinne,
Or be suspicious of my deerest freends:
Cousin, assure you I am resolute,
Whatsoeuer any whisper in mine eares,
Not to suspect disloyaltye in thee,
And so sweet Cuz farwell.
So, now sues the King for fauour to the Guise,
And all his Minions stoup when I commaund:
Why this tis to haue an army in the fielde,
Now by the holy sacrament I sweare,
As ancient Romanes ouer their Captiue Lords,
And he shall follow my proud Chariots wheeles.
Now doe I but begin to look about,
And all my former time was spent in vaine:
Holde Sworde, for in thee is the Duke of Guises hope.
Enter one of the Murtherers.
Villaine, why dost thou look so gastly? speake.
O pardon me my Lord of Guise.
Pardon thee, why what hast thou done?
O my Lord, I am one of them that is set to murder you.
To murder me villaine.
I my Lord, the rest haue taine their stan∣dings in the next roome, therefore good my Lord goe not foorth.
Yet Caesar shall goe forth, let mean consaits, and baser men feare death: tut they are pesants,
I am Duke of Guise: and princes with their lookes, ingender feare.
Stand close, he is comming, I know him by his voice.
As pale as ashes, nay then tis time to look about.
Downe with him, downe with him.
They stabbe him.
Oh I haue my deaths wound, giue me leaue to speak.
Trouble me not, I neare offended him.
Nor will I aske forgiuenes of the King.
Oh that I haue not power to stay my life,
Nor immortalitie to be reueng'd:
To dye by Pesantes, what a greefe is this?
Ah Sextus, be reueng'd vpon the King,
Philip and Parma, I am slaine for you:
Pope excommunicate, Philip depose,
The wicked branch of curst Valois his line.
Viue la messa, perish Hugonets,
Thus Coesar did goe foorth, and thus he dyed.
Enter Captaine of the Guarde.
What haue you done? then stay a while and Ile goe call the King, but see where he comes.
My Lord, see where the Guise is slaine.
Ah this sweet sight is phisick to my soule,
Goe fetch his sonne for to beholde his death:
Surchargde with guilt of thousand massacres:
Mounser of Loraine sinke away to hell,
And in remembrance of those bloudy broyles:
And heere in presence of you all I sweare,
I nere was King of France vntill this houre:
This is the traitor that hath spent my golde,
In making forraine warres and ciuile broiles.
Did he not drawa sorte of English priestes,
From Doway to the Seminary at Remes,
To hatch forth treason gainst their naturall Queene?
Did he not cause the King of Spaines huge fleete,
To threaten England and to menace me?
Did he not iniure Mounser thats deceast?
Hath he not made me in the Popes defence,
To spend the treasure that should strength my land:
In ciuill broiles between Nauarre and me?
Tush, to be short, he meant to make me Munke,
Or else to murder me, and so be King.
Let Christian princes that shall heare of this,
(As all the world shall know our Guise is dead)
Rest satisfied with this that heer I sweare,
Nere was there King of France so yoakt as I.
My Lord heer is his sonne.
Enter the Guises sonne.
Boy, look where your father lyes,
My father slaine, who hath done this deed?
Sirra twas I that slew him, and will slay thee too, and thou proue such a traitor.
Art thou King, and hast done this bloudy deed?
Ile be reuengde.
He offereth to throwe his dagger.
A way to prison with him, Ile clippe his winges or ere he passe my handes, away with him.
But what auaileth that this traitors dead,
When Duke Dumaine his brother is aliue,
And that young Cardinall that is growne so proud?
Goe to the Gouernour of Orleance,
And will him in my name to kill the Duke.
Get you a way and strangle the Cardinall,
These two will make one entire Duke of Guise,
Especially with our olde mothers helpe.
My Lord, see where she comes, as if she droupt to heare these newes.
Enter Queene Mother.
And let her droup, my heart is light enough.
Mother, how like you this deuice of mine?
I slew the Guise, because I would be King.
King, why so thou wert before.
Pray God thou be a King now this is done.
Nay he was King and countermanded me,
And make the Guisians stoup that are aliue.
I cannot speak for greefe, when thou wast borne,
I would that I had murdered thee my sonne.
My sonne: thou art a changeling, not my sonne.
I curse thee and exclaime thee miscreant,
Traitor to God, and to the realme of France.
Cry out, exclaime, houle till thy throat be hoarce,
The Guise is slaine, and I reioyce therefore:
And now will I to armes, come Epernoune:
And let her greeue her heart out if she will.
Exit the King and Epernoune.
A way, leaue me alone to meditate,
Sweet Guise, would he had died so thou wert heere:
To whom shall I bewray my secrets now,
Or who will helpe to builde Religion?
The Protestants will glory and insulte,
Wicked Nauarre will get the crowne of France,
The Popedome cannot stand, all goes to wrack.
And all for thee my Guise, what may I doe?
But sorrow seaze vpon my toyling soule,
For since the Guise is dead, I will not liue.
Enter two dragging in the Cardenall.
Murder me not, I am a Cardenall.
Wert thou the Pope thou mightst not scape from vs.
Shed your bloud, O Lord no: for we entend to strangle you.
Then there is no remedye but I must dye.
No remedye, therefore prepare your selfe.
Yet liues my brother Duke Dumaiue, and many moe:
To reuenge our deaths vpon that cursed King.
Vpon whose heart may all the furies gripe,
And with their pawes drench his black soule in hell.
Yours my Lord Cardinall, you should haue saide.
Now they strangle him.
So, pluck amaine, he is hard hearted, therfore pull with violence.
Come take him away.
Enter Duke Dumayn reading of a letter, with others.
My noble brother murthered by the King,
Oh what may I doe, for to reuengethy death?
Sweet Duke of Guise our prop to leane vpon,
Now thou art dead, heere is no stay for vs:
I am thy brother, and ile reuenge thy death,
And roote Valoys his line from forth of France,
And beate proud Burbon to his natiue home.
That basely seekes to ioyne with such a King.
Whose murderous thoughts will be his ouerthrow.
Hee wild the Gouernour of Orleance in his name,
That I with speed should haue beene put to death.
But thats preuented, for to end his life.
His life, and all those traitors to the Church of Rome,
That durst attempt to murder noble Guise.
Enter the Frier.
My Lord, I come to bring you newes, that your brother the Cardinall of Loraine by the Kings consent is lately strangled vnto death.
My brother Carden all slaine and I aliue?
O wordes of power to kill a thousand men.
Come let vs away and leauy men,
Tis warre that must asswage this tyrantes pride.
My Lord, heare me but speak.
I am a Frier of the order of the Iacobyns,
That for my conscience sake will kill the King.
But what doth moue thee aboue the rest to doe the deed?
O my Lord, I haue beene a great sinner in my dayes, and the deed is meritorious.
But how wilt thou get opportu∣nitye?
Tush my Lord, let me alone for that.
Frier come with me,
We will goe talke more of this within.
Sound Drumme and Trumpets, and enter the King of France, and Nauarre, Epernoune, Bartus, Pleshe and Souldiers.
Brother of Nauarre, I sorrow much,
That euer I was prou'd your enemy,
And that the sweet and princely minde you beare,
I vow as I am lawfull King of France,
To recompence your reconciled loue,
With all the honors and affections,
That euer I vouchsafte my dearest freends.
It is enough if that Nauarre niay be,
Esteemed faithfull to the King of France:
Whose seruice he may still commaund till death.
Thankes to my Kingly Brother of Nauarre.
Then heere wee'llye before Lucrecia walles,
Girting this strumpet Cittie with our siege,
Till surfeiting with our afflicting armes,
She cast her hatefull stomack to the earth.
Enter a Messenger.
And it please your Maiestie heere is a Frier of the order of the Iacobins, sent from the Pre∣sident of Paris, that craues accesse vnto your grace.
Enter Frier with a Letter.
I like not this Friers look.
Twere not amisse my Lord, if he were searcht.
Sweete Epernoune, our Friers are holy men,
And will not offer violence to their King,
For all the wealth and treasure of the world,
Frier, thou dost acknowledge me thy King:
I my good Lord, and will dye therein.
Then come thou neer, and tell what newes thou bringst.
My Lord, the President of Paris greetes your grace, and sends his dutie by these spee∣dye lines, humblye crauing your gracious reply.
Ile read them Frier, and then Ile answere thee.
Sancte Iacobus, now haue mercye vpon me.
He stabs the King with a knife as he readeth the letter, and then the King getteth the knife and killes him.
O my Lord, let him liue a while.
No, let the villaine dye, and feele in hell, iust torments for his trechery.
Yes Nauarre, but not to death I hope.
God shield your grace from such a sodaine death:
Goe call a surgeon hether strait.
What irreligeous Pagans partes be these,
Of such as holde them of the holy church?
Take hence that damned villaine from my sight.
Ah, had your highnes let him liue,
We might haue punisht him to his deserts.
Sweet Epernoune all Rebels vnder heauen, shall take example by their punishment, how they beare armes against their soueraigne.
Goe call the English Agent hether strait,
Ile send my sister England newes of this,
And giue her warning of her trecherous foes.
Pleaseth your grace to let the Surgeon search your wound.
The wound I warrant ye is deepe my Lord,
Search Surgeon and resolue me what thou seest.
The Surgeon searcheth.
Enter the English Agent.
Agent for England, send thy mistres word,
Tell her for all this that I hope to liue,
Which if I doe, the Papall Monarck goes to wrack.
And antechristian kingdome falles.
These bloudy hands shall teare his triple Crowne,
And fire accursed Rome about his eares.
He fire his crased buildings and incense,
The papall to wers to kisse the holy earth.
Nauarre, giue me thy hand, I heere do sweare,
To ruinate that wicked Church of Rome,
That hatcheth vp such bloudy practises.
And heere protest eternall loue to thee,
And to the Queene of England specially,
Whom God hath blest for hating Papestry.
These words reuiue my thoughts and comforts me,
To see your highnes in this vertuous minde.
Tell me Surgeon, shall I liue?
Alas my Lord, the wound is dangerous, for you are stricken with a poysoned knife.
A poysoned knife, what shall the French king dy e,
Wounded and poysoned, both at once?
O that that damned villaine were aliue againe,
That we might torture him with some new found death.
He died a death too good, the deuill of hell torture his wicked soule.
Ah curse him not sith he is dead, O the fa∣tall poyson workes within my brest, tell me Surgeon and flatter not, may I liue?
Alas my Lord, your highnes cannot liue.
Surgeon, why saist thou so? the King may liue.
Oh no Nauarre, thou must be King of France.
Long may you liue, and still be King of France.
Or else dye Epernoune.
Sweet Epernoune thy King must dye.
My Lords, fight in the quarrell of this valiant Prince,
For he is your lawfull King and my next heire:
Valoyses lyne ends in my tragedie.
Now let the house of Bourbon weare the crowne,
And may it neuer end in bloud as mine hath done.
Weep not sweet Nauarre, but reuenge my death.
Ah Epernoune, is this thy loue to me?
Henry thy King wipes of these childish teares,
And bids thee whet thy sword on Sextus bones,
That it may keenly slice the Catholicks.
He loues me not that sheds most teares,
But he that makes most lauish of his bloud.
Fire Paris where these trecherous rebels lurke,
Idye Nauarre, come beare me to my Sepulchre.
And tell her Henry dyes her faithfull freend.
Come Lords, take vp the body of the King.
That we may see it honourably interde:
And then I vow for to reuenge his death,
As Rome and all those popish Prelates there,
Shall curse the time that ere Nauarre was King.
And rulde in France by Henries fatall death.
They march out with the body of the King, lying on foure mens shoulders with a dead march, drawing weapons on the ground.