The Massacre
doth crave accesse unto your highnes.
King.
Let him come in.
Come Guise and see thy traiterous guile outreacht,
And perish in the pit thou mad'st for me. The Guise comes to the King.
Guise.
Good morrow to your Majestie.
King.
Good morrow to my loving Cousin of Guise.
How fares it this morning with your excellence?
Guise.
I heard your Majestie was scarcely pleasde,
That in the Court I bare so great a traine.
King.
They were to blame that said I was displeasde,
And you good Cosin to imagine it.
Twere hard with me if I should doubt my kinne,
Or be suspicious of my deerest freends:
Cousin, assure you I am resolute,
Whatsoever any whisper in mine eares,
Not to suspect disloyaltye in thee,
And so sweet Cuz farwell.Exit King.
Guise.
So, now sues the King for favour to the Guise,
And all his Minions stoup when I commaund:
Why this tis to have an army in the fielde,
Now by the holy sacrament I sweare,
As ancient Romanes over their Captive Lords,
So will
