Volume II Part 60 (2/2)

_Cath._. Away! leave me alone to meditate.

[_Exeunt_ Attendants.

Sweet Guise, would he had died, so thou wert here!

To whom shall I bewray my secrets now, Or who will help to build religion?

The Protestants will glory and insult; Wicked Navarre will get the crown of France; The Popedom cannot stand; all goes to wreck; And all for thee, my Guise! What may I do? 160 But sorrow seize upon my toiling soul!

For, since the Guise is dead, I will not live. [_Exit._

SCENE XXII.

_Enter_[423] _two_ Murderers, _dragging in the_ CARDINAL.

_Card._ Murder me not; I am a cardinal.

_First Murd._ Wert thou the Pope thou might'st not scape from us.

_Card._ What, will you file your hands with churchmen's blood?

_Sec. Murd._ Shed your blood! O Lord, no! for we intend to strangle you.

_Card._ Then there is no remedy, but I must die?

_First Murd._ No remedy; therefore prepare yourself.

_Card._ Yet lives my brother Duke Dumaine, and many mo, To revenge our deaths upon that cursed king; Upon whose heart may all the Furies gripe, 10 And with their paws drench his black soul in h.e.l.l!

_First Murd._ Yours, my Lord Cardinal, you should have said.-- [_They strangle him._ So, pluck amain: He is hard-hearted; therefore pull with violence.

Come, take him away.

[_Exeunt with the body._

SCENE XXIII.

_Enter_[424] DUMAINE, _reading a letter; with others._

_Dum._ My n.o.ble brother murder'd by the king!

O, what may I do for to revenge thy death?

The king's alone, it cannot satisfy.

Sweet Duke of Guise, our prop to lean upon, Now thou art dead, here is no stay for us.

I am thy brother, and I'll revenge thy death, And root Valois his line from forth of France; And beat proud Bourbon to his native home, That basely seeks to join with such a king, Whose murderous thoughts will be his overthrow. 10 He will'd the governor of Orleans, in his name, That I with speed should have been put to death; But that's prevented, for to end his life, And[425] all those traitors to the Church of Rome That durst attempt to murder n.o.ble Guise.

_Enter_ Friar.

_Fri._ My lord, I come to bring you news that your brother the Cardinal of Lorraine, by the king's consent, is lately strangled unto death.

_Dum._ My brother Cardinal slain, and I alive!

O words of power to kill a thousand men!-- 20 Come, let us away, and levy men; 'Tis war that must a.s.suage this tyrant's pride.

_Fri._ My lord, hear me but speak.

I am a friar of the order of the Jacobins, That for my conscience' sake will kill the king.

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