now incenst the King,
To send his power to meet us in the field.

BARTUS. Then in this bloudy brunt they may beholde,
The sole endevour of your princely care,
To plant the true succession of the faith,
In spite of Spaine and all his heresies.

NAVARRE. The power of vengeance now implants it selfe,
Upon the hauty mountains of my brest:
Plaies with her goary coulours of revenge,
Whom I respect as leaves of boasting greene,
That change their coulour when the winter comes,
When I shall vaunt as victor in revenge.

Enter a Messenger.

How now sirra, what newes?

MESSENGER. My Lord, as by our scoutes we understande,
A mighty army comes from France with speed:
Which is already mustered in the land,
And meanesto meet your highnes in the field.

NAVARRE. In Gods name, let them come.
This is the Guise that hath incenst the King,
To leavy armes and make these civill broyles:
But canst thou tell me who is their generall?

MESSENGER. Not yet my Lord, for thereon doe they stay:
But as report doth goe, the Duke of Joyeux
Hath made great sute unto the King therfore.

NAVARRE. It will not countervaile his paines I hope,
I would the Guise in his steed might have come,
But he doth lurke within his drousie couch,
And makes his footstoole on securitie:
So he be safe he cares not what becomes,
Of King or Country, no not for them both.
But come my Lords, let us away with speed,
And place our selves in order for the fight.

Exeunt.

[Scene xv]

Enter [Henry] the King of France, Duke of Guise, Epernoune,
and Duke Joyeux.

KING. My sweet Joyeux, I make thee Generall,
Of all my army now in readines,
To march against the rebellious King Navarre:
At thy request I am content thou go'st,
Although my love to thee can hardly suffer't,
Regarding still the danger of thy life.

JOYEUX. Thanks to your Majestie, and so I take my leave.
Farwell my Lord of Guise and Epernoune.

GUISE. Health and harty farwell to my Lord Joyeux.

Exit Joyeux.

KING. How kindely Cosin of Guise you and your wife
Doe both salute our lovely Minions.

He makes hornes at the Guise.

Remember you the letter gentle sir,
Which your wife writ to my deare Minion,
And her chosen freend?

GUISE. How now my Lord, faith this is more then need,
Am I to be thus j