MAID. I will madam.

[Exit.

DUCH. That I may write unto my dearest lord;
Sweet Mugeron, 'tis he that hath my heart.
And Guise usurps it 'cause I am his wife.

Fain would I find some means to speak with him,
But cannot, and therefore am enforc'd to write,
That he may come and meet me in some place,
Where we may one enjoy the other's sight.

Re-enter the MAID, with ink and paper.
So, set it down, and leave me to myself.

[Exit Maid. She writes. Oh! would to God, this quill that here doth write, Had late been pluck'd from out fair Cupid's wing, That it might print these lines within his heart. Enter GUISE.

I

GUISE. What all alone, my love, and writing

too?

pr'ythee say to whom thou writ'st.

Duch. To such a one, as when she reads my lines, Will laugh, I fear me, at their good array.

GUISE. I pray thee, let me see.

Duch. Oh, no, my lord, a woman only must

Partake the secrets of my heart.

GUISE. But, madam, I must see

Are these your secrets that no man must know?

[Snatches the paper, and reads it

Duch. Oh! pardon me, my lord.

GUISE. Thou trothless and unjust, what lines are

these?

Am I grown old, or is thy lust grown young?

Or hath my love been so obscur'd in thee,
That others need to comment on my text?
Is all my love forgot, which held thee dear,
Aye, dearer than the apple of mine eye?
Is Guise's glory but a cloudy mist,

In sight and judgment of thy lustful eye?
Mort Dieu ! were not the fruit within thy womb,
On whose increase I set some longing hope,
This wrathful hand should strike thee to the heart!
Hence, strumpet! hide thy head for shame;
And fly my presence, if thou look'st to live-

O wicked sex, perjured and unjust!
Now do I see that from the very first,

[Exit Duchess.

Her eyes and looks sow'd seeds of perjury.

But villain, he, to whom these lines should go,
Shall buy her love e'en with his dearest blood [Exit.
Enter NAVARRE, PLESHE, and BARTUS, and their
Train, with drums and trumpets.

NAV. Now lords, since in a quarrel just and right, We undertake to manage these our wars,

Against the proud disturbers of the faith,
(I mean the Guise, the Pope, and king of Spain,
Who set themselves to tread us under foot,
And rend our true religion from this land;
But for you know our quarrel is no more,
But to defend their strange inventions,
Which they will put us to with sword and fire;)
We must with resolute minds resolve to fight,
In honour of our God, and country's good.

Spain is the council-chamber of the Pope,

Spain is the place where he makes peace and war, And Guise for Spain hath now incens'd the king, To send his power to meet us in the field.

BAR. Then in this bloody brunt they may behold The sole endeavour of your princely care, To plant the true succession of the faith, In spite of Spain and all his heresies.

NAV. The pow'r of vengeance now implants itself
Upon the haughty mountains of my breast;
Plays with her gory colours of revenge,
Whom I respect as leaves of boasting green,

That change their colour when the winter comes,
When I shall vaunt as victor in revenge.

Enter a MESSENGER.

How now, sirrah, what news?

MES. My lord, as by our scouts we understand, A mighty army comes from France with speed; Which is already muster'd in the land,

And means to meet your highness in the field.
NAV. In God's name let them come.

This is the Guise that hath incens'd the king
To levy arms, and make these civil broils.

But canst thou tell me who's their general?
MES. Not yet, my lord, for thereon do they stay;
But, as report doth go, the duke Joyeux
Hath made great suit unto the king therefore.

NAV. It will not countervail his pains, I hope. I would the Guise in his stead might have come; But he doth lurk within his drowsy couch,

And makes his footstool on security:

So he be safe, he cares not what becomes
Of king or country; no, not for them both.
But come, my lords, let us away with speed,
And place ourselves in order for the fight. [Exeunt.
Enter the KING of FRANCE, GUISE, EPERNOUNE
and DUKE JOYEUX.

KING. My sweet Joyeux, I make thee general
Of all my army, now in readiness

To march against the rebellious king, Navarre;
At thy request I am content thou go'st,
Although my love to thee can hardly suffer't,
Regarding still the danger of thy life,

JOYEUX. Thanks to your majesty; and so I take my leave.

Farewell, my lord of Guise, and Epernoune.

GUISE. Health and hearty farewell to my lord

Joyeux.

[Exit Joyeux.

KING. How kindly, cousin Guise, you and your

wife

Do both salute our lovely minions.

Remember you the letter, gentle sir,

Which your wife writ

To my dear minion, and her chosen friend?

[Makes horns at Guise.

GUISE. How now, my lord? faith, this is more

than need.

Am I to be thus jested at and scorn'd?

'Tis more than kingly or imperious.

And, sure, if all the proudest kings beside

In Christendom should bear me such derision,
They should know I scorn'd them and their mocks.
I love your minions! doat on them yourself;

I know none else but holds them in disgrace.
And here, by all the saints in heav'n, I swear
That villain for whom f bear this deep disgrace,
E'en for your words that have incens'd me so,
Shall buy that strumpet's favour with his blood.
Whether he have dishonour'd me or no,

Par la mort de Dieu il mourra!

[Exit.

KING. Believe me, Epernoune, this jest bites sore. EPER. My lord, 'twere good to make them friends, For his oaths are seldom spent in vain.

Enter MUGERON.

KING. How now, Mugeron, met'st thou not the Guise at the door?

MUGE. Not I, my lord; what if I had?

KING. Marry, if thou had'st, thou might'st have had the stab,

For he had solemnly sworn thy death.

MUGE. I may be stabb'd, and live till he be dead. But wherefore bears he me such deadly hate?

KING. Because his wife bears thee such kindly love. MUGE. If that be all, the next time that I meet her, I'll make her shake off love with her heels. But

which

way is he gone? I'll go take a walk on purpose

from the court to meet with him.

[Exit.

KING. I like not this; come, Epernoune, let's go

seek the duke, and make them friends.

VOL. I.

[Exeunt.

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