Eper. O, that That damnèd villain were alive again,79 That we might torture him with some new-found death!
Bar. He died a death too good: The devil of hell torture his wicked soul!
Henry. Ah, curse him not, sith he is dead!— O, the fatal poison works within my breast!— Tell me, surgeon, and flatter not—may I live?
Surg. Alas, my lord, your highness cannot live!
Nav. Surgeon, why say'st thou so? the king may live.
Henry. O no, Navarre! thou must be king of France.
Nav. Long may you live, and still be king of France!
Eper. Or else, die Epernoun!90
Henry. Sweet Epernoun, thy king must die.—My lords, Fight in the quarrel of this valiant prince, For he's your lawful king, and my next heir; Valois's line ends in my tragedy. Now let the house of Bourbon wear the crown; And may it ne'er end in blood as mine hath done!— Weep not, sweet Navarre, but revenge my death.— Ah, Epernoun, is this thy love to me? Henry, thy king, wipes off these childish tears, And bids thee whet thy sword on Sixtus' bones,100 That it may keenly slice the Catholics. He loves me not [the most [431]] that sheds most tears, But he that makes most lavish of his blood. Fire Paris, where these treacherous rebels lurk.— I die, Navarre: come bear me to my sepulchre. Salute the Queen of England in my name, And tell her Henry dies her faithful friend. [Dies.
Nav. Come, lords, take up the body of the king, That we may see it honourably interr'd: And then I vow so [432] to revenge his death,110 As Rome, and all these popish prelates there, Shall curse the time that e'er Navarre was king, And ruled in France by Henry's fatal death. [They march out, with the body of King Henry lying on four men's shoulders, with a dead march, drawing weapons on the ground.