at Paris.
To which thou didst alure me being alive:
And heere in presence of you all I sweare,
I nere was King of France untill this houre:
This is the traitor that hath spent my golde,
In making forraine warres and civile broiles.
Did he not draw a sorte of English priestes,
From Doway to the Seminary at Remes,
To hatch forth treason gainst their naturall Queene?
Did he not cause the King of Spaines huge fleete,
To threaten England and to menace me?
Did he not injure Mounser thats diceast?
Hath he not made me in the Popes defence,
To spend the treasure that should strength my land:
In civill broiles between Navarre and me?
Tush, to be short, he meant to make me Munke,
Or else to murder me, and so be King.
Let Christian princes that shall heare of this,
(As all the world shall know our Guise is dead)
Rest satisfed with this that heer I sweare,
Nere was there King of France so yoakt as I.
Eper.
My Lord heer is his sonne.
Enter the Guises sonne.
King.
Yong Guise.
My father slaine, who hath done this deed?
King.
