at Paris.
To overthrow those sexious Puritans:
And know my Lord, the Pope will sell his triple crowne,
I, and the catholick Philip King of Spaine,
Ere I shall want, will cause his Indians,
To rip the golden bowels of America.
Navarre that cloakes them underneath his wings,
Shall feele the house of Lorayne is his foe:
Your highnes needs not feare mine armies force,
Tis for your safetie and your enemies wrack.
King.
Guise, weare our crowne, and be thou King of France,
And as Dictator make or warre or peace,
Whilste I cry placet like a Senator.
I cannot brook thy hauty insolence,
Dismisse thy campe or else by our Edict,
Be thou proclaimde a traitor throughout France.
Guise.
The choyse is hard, I must dissemble.
My Lord, in token of my true humilitie,
And simple meaning to your Majestie:
I kisse your graces hand, and take my leave,
Intending to dislodge my campe with speed.
King.
Then farwell Guise, the King and thou art freends. Exit Guise.
Eper.
But trust him not my Lord, for had your highnesse,
Seene with what a pompe he entred Paris,
And how the Citizens with gifts and shewes
Did entertaine him and promised to be at his commaund:
Nay,
