_Pleshé._ The virtues of our true religion Cannot but march, with many graces more, Whose army shall discomfort all your foes, And, at the length, in Pampelonia[397] crown (In spite of Spain, and all the popish power, That holds it from your highness wrongfully) Your majesty her rightful lord and sovereign. _Nav._ Truth, Pleshé; and God so prosper me in all, 50 As I intend to labour for the truth, And true profession of his holy word! Come, Pleshé, let's away whilst time doth serve. [_Exeunt._ SCENE XIV. _Trumpets sound within, and a cry of "Vive le Roi" two or three times. Enter_[398] ANJOU _crowned as King Henry the Third_; CATHERINE _the Queen Mother, the_ CARDINAL OF LORRAINE, GUISE, EPERNOUN, MUGEROUN, _the_ Cutpurse, _and others_. _All. Vive le Roi, Vive le Roi! [A flourish of trumpets._ _Cath._ Welcome from Poland, Henry, once again! Welcome to France, thy father's royal seat! Here hast thou a country void of fears, A warlike people to maintain thy right, A watchful senate for ordaining laws, A loving mother to preserve thy state, And all things that a king may wish besides; All this, and more, hath Henry with his crown. _Card._ And long may Henry enjoy all this, and more! 10 _All._ _Vive le Roi, Vive le Roi!_ [_A flourish of trumpets._ _Henry._ Thanks to you all. The guider of all crowns Grant that our deeds may well deserve your loves! And so they shall if fortune speed my will, And yield your thoughts to height of my deserts. What say our minions? think they Henry's heart Will not both harbour love and majesty? Put off that fear, they are already join'd: No person, place, or time, or circumstance, Shall slack my love's affection from his bent: 20 As now you are, so shall you still persist, Removeless from the favours of your king. _Mug._ We know that noble minds change not their thoughts For wearing of a crown, in that your grace Hath worn the Poland diadem before You were invested in the crown of France. _Henry._ I tell thee, Mugeroun, we will be friends, And fellows too, whatever storms arise. _Mug._ Then[399] may it please your majesty to give me leave To punish those that do profane this holy feast. 30 _Henry._ How mean'st thou that? [MUGEROUN _cuts off the_ Cutpurse's _ear, for cutting the gold buttons off his cloak_. _Cutp._ O Lord, mine ear! _Mug._ Come, sir, give me my buttons, and here's your ear. _Guise._ Sirrah, take him away.