Duke of Joyeux Hath made great sute unto the King therfore. NAVARRE. It will not countervaile his paines I hope, I would the Guise in his steed might have come, But he doth lurke within his drousie couch, And makes his footstoole on securitie:    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 our selves in order for the fight. Exeunt. 

  

       [Scene xv]     

         Enter [Henry] the King of France, Duke of Guise, Epernoune,         and Duke Joyeux. KING. My sweet Joyeux, I make thee Generall, Of all my army now in readines, 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 Majestie, and so I take my leave. Farwell my Lord of Guise and Epernoune. GUISE. Health and harty farwell to my Lord Joyeux. Exit Joyeux. KING. How kindely Cosin of Guise you and your wife Doe both salute our lovely Minions. He makes hornes at the Guise. Remember you the letter gentle sir, Which your wife writ to my deare Minion, And her chosen freend? GUISE. How now my Lord, faith this is more then need, Am I to be thus jested at and scornde? Tis more then kingly or Emperious. And sure if all the proudest kings beside In Christendome, should beare me such derision, They should know I scornde them and their mockes. I love your Minions? dote on them your selfe, I know none els but hordes them in disgrace:    And heer by all the Saints in heaven I sweare, That villain for whom I beare this deep disgrace, Even for your words that have incenst me so, Shall buy that strumpets favour with his blood, Whether he have dishonoured me or no. Par la mor du, Il mora. Exit. KING. Beleeve me, Epernoune this jest bites sore. EPERNOUNE. My Lord, twere good to make them frends, For his othes are seldome spent in vaine. Enter Mugeroun. KING. How now Mugeroun, metst thou not the Guise at the doore? MUGEROUN. Not I my Lord, what if I had? KING. Marry if thou hadst, thou mightst have had the stab, For he hath solemnely sworne thy death. MUGEROUN. I may be stabd, and live till he be dead, But wherfore beares he me such deadly hate? KING. Because his wife beares thee such kindely love. MUGEROUN. If that be all, the next time that I meet her, Ile make her shake off love with her heeles. But which way is he gone? Ile goe take a walk    

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