Volume II Part 60 (1/2)

This is the traitor that hath spent my gold 100 In making foreign wars and civil broils.

Did he not draw a sort[421] of English priests From Douay to the seminary at Rheims, To hatch forth treason 'gainst their natural queen?

Did he not cause the king of Spain's huge fleet To threaten England, and to menace me?

Did he not injure Monsieur that's deceas'd?

Hath he not made me, in the Pope's defence, To spend the treasure, that should strength my land, In civil broils between Navarre and me? 110 Tush, to be short, he meant to make me monk, Or else to murder me, and so be king.

Let Christian princes, that shall hear of this (As all the world shall know our Guise is dead), Rest satisfied with this, that here I swear, Ne'er was there king of France so yoked as I.

_Eper._ My lord, here is his son.

_Enter_ GUISE'S Son.

_Henry._ Boy, look where your father lies.

_G.'s Son._ My father slain! who hath done this deed?

_Henry._ Sirrah, 'twas I that slew him; and will slay 120 Thee too, an thou prove such a traitor.

_G.'s Son._ Art thou king, and hast done this b.l.o.o.d.y deed?

I'll be reveng'd. [_Offers to throw his dagger._

_Henry._ Away to prison with him! I'll clip his wings Or e'er he pa.s.s my hands. Away with him!

[_Some of the_ Attendants _bear off_ GUISE'S Son.

But what availeth that this traitor's dead, When Duke Dumaine, his brother, is alive, And that young cardinal that is grown so proud?

Go to the governor of Orleans, And will[422] him, in my name, to kill the duke. 130 [_To the_ Captain of the Guard.

Get you away, and strangle the cardinal.

[_To the_ Murderers.

[_Exeunt_ Captain of the Guard _and_ Murderers.

These two will make one entire Duke of Guise, Especially with our old mother's help.

_Eper._ My lord, see, where she comes, as if she droop'd To hear these news.

_Henry._ And let her droop; my heart is light enough.

_Enter_ CATHERINE _the Queen Mother._

Mother, how like you this device of mine?

I slew the Guise, because I would be king.

_Cath._ King! why, so thou wert before: Pray G.o.d thou be a king now this is done! 140

_Henry._ Nay, he was king, and countermanded me: But now I will be king, and rule myself, And make the Guisians stoop that are alive.

_Cath._ I cannot speak for grief.--When thou wast born, I would that I had murdered thee, my son!

My son? thou art a changeling, not my son: I curse thee, and exclaim thee miscreant, Traitor to G.o.d and to the realm of France!

_Henry._ Cry out, exclaim, howl till thy throat be hoa.r.s.e!

The Guise is slain, and I rejoice therefore: 150 And now will I to arms.--Come, Epernoun, And let her grieve her heart out, if she will.

[_Exit with_ EPERNOUN.