NAVARRE. And now Navarre whilste that these broiles doe last, My opportunity may serve me fit, To steale from France, and hye me to my home. For heers no saftie in the Realme for me, And now that Henry is cal'd from Polland, It is my due by just succession: And therefore as speedily as I can perfourme, Ile muster up an army secretdy, For feare that Guise joyn'd with the King of Spaine, Might seek to crosse me in mine enterprise. But God that alwaies doth defend the right, Will shew his mercy and preserve us still. PLESHE. The vertues of our poor Religion, Cannot but march with many graces more: Whose army shall discomfort all your foes, And at the length in Pampelonia crowne, In spite of Spaine and all the popish power, That hordes it from your highnesse wrongfully: Your Majestie her rightfull Lord and Soveraigne. Navarre Truth Pleshe, and God so prosper me in all, As I entend to labour for the truth, And true profession of his holy word: Come Pleshe, lets away while time doth serve. Exeunt. [Scene xii] Sound Trumpets within, and then all crye vive le Roy two or three times. Enter Henry crowned: Queene [Mother], Cardinall [of Loraine], Duke of Guise, Epernoone, [Mugeroun,] the kings Minions, with others, and the Cutpurse. ALL. Vive le Roy, vive le Roy. Sound Trumpets. QUEENE MOTHER. Welcome from Poland Henry once agayne, Welcome to France thy fathers royall seate, Heere hast thou a country voice of feares, A warlike people to maintaine thy right, A watchfull Senate for ordaining lawes, A loving mother to preserve thy state, And all things that a King may wish besides: All this and more hath Henry with his crowne. CARDINALL. And long may Henry enjoy all this and more. ALL. Vive le Roy, vive le Roy. Sound trumpets. KING. Thanks to you al. The guider of all crownes, Graunt that our deeds may wel deserve your loves: And so they shall, if fortune speed my will, And yeeld our thoughts to height of my desertes. What say our Minions, think they Henries heart Will not both harbour love and Majestie? Put of that feare, they are already joynde, No person, place, or time, or circumstance, Shall slacke my loves affection from his bent. As now you are, so shall you still persist, Remooveles from the favours of your King. MUGEROUN. We know that noble minces change not their thoughts For wearing of a crowne: in that your grace, Hath worne the Poland diadem, before You were withvested in the crowne of France. KING. I tell thee Mugeroun we will be freends, And fellowes to, what ever stormes arise. MUGEROUN. Then may it please your Majestie to give me leave, To punish those that doe prophane this holy feast. He cuts of the Cutpurse eare, for cutting of the golde buttons off his cloake.