bowels of her treasurie, To supply my wants and necessitie. Paris hath full five hundred Colledges, As Monestaries, Priories, Abbyes and halles, Wherein are thirtie thousand able men, Besides a thousand sturdy student Catholicks, And more: of my knowledge in one cloyster keep, Five hundred fatte Franciscan Fryers and priestes. All this and more, if more may be comprisde, To bring the will of our desires to end. Then Guise, Since thou hast all the Cardes within thy hands To shuffle or to cut, take this as surest thing:    That right or wrong, thou deal'st thy selfe a King. I but, Navarre. Tis but a nook of France. Sufficient yet for such a pettie King:    That with a rablement of his hereticks, Blindes Europs eyes and troubleth our estate:    Him will we—          Pointing to his Sworde. But first lets follow those in France. That hinder our possession to the crowne:    As Caesar to his souldiers, so say I:    Those that hate me, will I learn to loath. Give me a look, that when I bend the browes, Pale death may walke in furrowes of my face:    A hand, that with a graspe may gripe the world, An eare, to heare what my detractors say, A royall seate, a scepter and a crowne:    That those which doe behold them may become As men that stand and gase against the Sunne. The plot is laide, and things shall come to passe,    Where resolution strives for victory. Exit. 

  

       [Scene iii]     

         Enter the King of Navar and Queen [Margaret], and his [olde]         Mother Queen [of Navarre], the Prince of Condy, the Admirall, and the Pothecary with the gloves, and gives them to the olde Queene. POTHECARIE. Maddame, I beseech your grace to except this simple gift. OLD QUEENE. Thanks my good freend, holde, take thou this reward. POTHECARIE. I humbly thank your Majestie. Exit Pothecary. OLD QUEENE. Me thinkes the gloves have a very strong perfume, The sent whereof doth make my head to ake. NAVARRE. Doth not your grace know the man that gave them you? OLD QUEENE. Not wel, but do remember such a man. ADMIRALL. Your grace was ill advisde to take them then, Considering of these dangerous times. OLD QUEENE. Help sonne Navarre, I am poysoned. QUEENE MARGARET. The heavens forbid your highnes such mishap. NAVARRE. The late suspition of the Duke of Guise, Might well have moved your highnes to beware How you did meddle with such dangerous giftes. QUEENE MARGARET. Too late it is my Lord if that be true To blame her highnes, but I hope it be Only some naturall passion 

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