dead)    Rest satisfed with this that heer I sweare, Nere was there King of France so yoakt as I. EPERNOUNE. My Lord heer is his sonne. Enter the Guises sonne. KING. Boy, look where your father lyes. YONG GUISE. My father slaine, who hath done this deed? KING. Sirra twas I that slew him, and will slay Thee too, and thou prove such a traitor. YONG GUISE. Art thou King, and hast done this bloudy deed? Ile be revengde. He offereth to throwe his dagger. KING. Away to prison with him, Ile clippe his winges Or ere he passe my handes, away with him. Exit Boy. But what availeth that this traitors dead, When Duke Dumaine his brother is alive, And that young Cardinall that is growne so proud? Goe to the Governour of Orleance, And will him in my name to kill the Duke.          [Exit Captaine of the Guarde.]     Get you away and strangle the Cardinall.          [Exit murtherers.]     These two will make one entire Duke of Guise, Especially with our olde mothers helpe. EPERNOUNE. My Lord, see where she comes, as if she droupt To heare these newest Enter Queene Mother [attended]. KING. And let her croup, my heart is light enough. Mother, how like you this device of mine? I slew the Guise, because I would be King. QUEENE MOTHER. King, why so thou wert before. Pray God thou be a King now this is done. KING. Nay he was King and countermanded me, But now I will be King and rule my selfe, And make the Guisians stoup that are alive. QUEENE MOTHER. I cannot speak for greefe: when thou went home, I would that I had murdered thee my sonne. My sonne: thou art a changeling, not my sonne. I curse thee and exclaime thee miscreant, Traitor to God, and to the realme of France. KING. Cry out, exclaime, houle till thy throat be hoarce, The Guise is slaine, and I rejoyce therefore:    And now will I to armes, come Epernoune:    And let her greeve her heart out if she will. Exit the King and Epernoune. QUEENE MOTHER. Away, leave me alone to meditate. Sweet Guise, would he had died so thou wert heere:    To whom shall I bewray my secrets now, Or who will helpe to builde Religion? The Protestants will glory and insulte, Wicked Navarre will get the crowne of France, The Popedome cannot stand, all goes to wrack, And all for thee my Guise: what may I doe? But sorrow seaze upon my toyling soule, For since the Guise is dead, I will not live. Exit [the attendants taking up body of the Guise]. 

  

       [Scene xx]     

         Enter two [Murtherers] dragging 

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