Enter Anjoy, with two Lords of Poland.
ANJOY. My Lords of Poland I must needs confesse,
The offer of your Prince Elector's, farre
Beyond the reach of my desertes:
For Poland is as I have 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 practice long hath taught,
To please himselfe with mannage of the warres,
The greatest warres within our Christian bounds,
I meane our warres against the Muscovites:
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 undertake to weare the crowne
Of Poland, it may prejudice 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 covenant thus,
That if by death of Charles, the diadem
Of France be cast on me, then with your leaves
I may retire me to my native home.
If your commission serve to warrant this,
I thankfully shall undertake the charge
Of you and yours, and carefully maintaine
The wealth and safety of your kingdomes right.
LORD. All this and more your highnes shall commaund,
For Polands crowne and kingly diadem.
ANJOY. Then come my Lords, lets goe.
Exeunt.
[Scene ix]
Enter two with the Admirals body.
1. Now sirra, what shall we doe with the Admirall?
2. Why let us burne him for a heretick.
1. O no, his bodye will infect the fire, and the fire the aire, and
so we shall be poysoned with him.
2. What shall we doe then?
1. Lets throw him into the river.
2. Oh twill corrupt the water, and the water the fish, and the
fish our selves when we eate them.
1. Then throw him into the ditch.
2. No, no, to decide all doubts, be rulde by me, lets hang him
upon this tree.
1. Agreede.
They hang him.
Enter the Duke of Guise, and Queene Mother, and the
Cardinall [of Loraine].
GUISE. Now Madame, how like you our lusty Admirall?
QUEENE MOTHER. Beleeve me Guise he becomes the place so well,
That I could long ere this have wisht him there.
But come lets walke aside, th'airs not very sweet.
GUISE. 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 understand,
There anre a hundred Hugonets and more,
Which in the woods doe horde their synagogue:
And dayly meet about this time of day,
thither will I to put them to the sword.
QUEENE MOTHER. Doe so sweet Guise, let us delay no time,
For if these straglers gather head againe,
And disperse themselves throughout the Realme of France,
It will be hard for us to worke their deaths.
GUISE. Madam,
I goe as whirl-winces rage before a storme.
Exit Guise.
QUEENE MOTHER. My Lord of Loraine have you marks 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?
CARDINALL. Madam, I have heard him solemnly vow,
With the rebellious King of Navarre,
For to revenge their deaths upon us all.
QUEENE MOTHER. I, but my Lord, let me alone for that,
For Katherine must have her will in France:
As I doe live, so surely shall he dye,
And Henry then shall weare the diadem.
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 let's goe.
Exeunt.
[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.