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Trumpets sounded within, and a cry of “ Vive le Roi,"
two or three times. Enter HENRY, crowned ; QUEEN MOTHER, CAR
DINAL, Guise, EpernOune, Mugeron, the
(A flourish of Trumpets. Q. Mo. Welcome from Poland, Henry, once
CARD. And long may Henry enjoy all this, and
ALL. Vive le Roi, Vive le Roi.
[A flourish of Trumpets. King. Thanks to you all. The guider of all
crowns, Grant that our deeds may well deserve
your loves; And so they shall, if fortune speed my will, And yield our thoughts to height of my deserts. What say our minions? Think they Henry's heart Will not both harbour love and majesty? Put off that fear, they are already join'd ;
No person, place, or time, or circumstance,
King. I tell thee, Mugeron, we will be friends,
me leave. To punish those that do profane this holy feast. KING. How mean'st thou that? (Mugeron cuts off the Cutpurse's ear, for cutting
the gold buttons off his cloak. CUTp. Oh, Lord, mine ear! Muge. Come, sir, give me my buttons, and here's
your ear. Guise. Sirrah, take him away.
King. Hands off, good fellow, I will be his bail For this offence. Go, sirrah, work no more Till this our coronation day be past. And now, our rites of coronation done, What now remains but for awhile to feast, And spend some days in barriers, tournay, tilt, And like disports, such as do fit the court? Let's go my lords, our dinner stays for us.
(Eseunt all but the Queen Mother and Curdinal.
Q. Mo. My lord cardinal of Lorraine, tell me,
Card. Madam, as I in secresy was told,
Q. Mo. Tush, man, let me alone with him.
MAID. I will madam.
[Exit. Duch. That I may write unto my dearest lord ; Sweet Mugeron, 'tis he that hath my heart And Guise
it 'cause I am his wife.
Re-enter the Maid, with ink and paper.
[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,
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 seeAre 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,
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.