Make a discharge of all my counsell straite, And Ile subscribe my name and seale it straight. My head shall be my counsell, they are false:    And Epernoune I will be rulde by thee. EPERNOUNE. My Lord, I think for safety of your person, It would be good the Guise were made away, And so to quite your grace of all suspect. KING. First let us set our hand and seale to this, And then Ile tell thee what I meane to doe. He writes. So, convey this to the counsell presently. Exit one. And Epernoune though I seeme milde and calme, Thinke not but I am tragicall within:    Ile secretly convey me unto Bloyse, For now that Paris takes the Guises parse, Heere is not staying for the King of France, Unles he means to be betraide and dye:    But as I live, so sure the Guise shall dye. Exeunt. 

  

       [Scene xviii]     

         Enter the King of Navarre reading of a letter, and Bartus. NAVARRE. My Lord, I am advertised from France, That the Guise hath taken armes against the King, And that Paris is revolted from his grace. BARTUS. Then hath your grace fit oportunitie, To shew your love unto the King of France:    Offering him aide against his enemies,    Which cannot but be thankfully receiv'd. NAVARRE. Bartus, it shall be so, poast then to Fraunce, And there salute his highnesse in our name, Assure him all the aide we can provide, Against the Guisians and their complices. Bartus be gone, commend me to his grace, And tell him ere it be long, Ile visite him. BARTUS. I will my Lord. Exit. NAVARRE. Pleshe. Enter Pleshe. PLESHE. My Lord. NAVARRE. Pleshe, goe muster up our men with speed, And let them march away to France amaine:    For we must aide the King against the Guise. Be gone I say, tis time that we were there. PLESHE. I goe my Lord.          [Exit.]     NAVARRE. That wicked Guise I feare me much will be, The wine of that famous Realme of France:    For his aspiring thoughts aime at the crowne, He takes his vantage on Religion, To plant the Pope and popelings in the Realme, And binde it wholy to the Sea of Rome:    But if that God doe prosper mine attempts, And send us safely to arrive in France:    Wee'l beat him back, and drive him to his death, That basely seekes the wine of his Realme. Exit. 

  

       [Scene xix]     

         Enter the Captaine of the guarde, and three murtherers.     

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