_Fri._ My lord, I come to bring you news that your brother the Cardinal of Lorraine, by the king's consent, is lately strangled unto death.
_Dum._ My brother Cardinal slain, and I alive! O words of power to kill a thousand men!-- 20 Come, let us away, and levy men; 'Tis war that must assuage this tyrant's pride.
_Fri._ My lord, hear me but speak. I am a friar of the order of the Jacobins, That for my conscience' sake will kill the king.
_Dum._ But what doth move thee, above the rest, to do the deed?
_Fri._ O my lord, I have been a great sinner in my days! and the deed is meritorious.
_Dum._ But how wilt thou get opportunity? 30
_Fri._ Tush, my lord, let me alone for that.
_Dum._ Friar, come with me; We will go talk more of this within. [_Exeunt._
_Drums and Trumpets. Enter_[426] KING HENRY, _the_ KING OF NAVARRE, EPERNOUN, BARTUS, PLESHÈ, Soldiers, _and_ Attendants.
_Henry._ Brother of Navarre, I sorrow much That ever I was prov'd your enemy, And that the sweet and princely mind you bear Was ever troubled with injurious wars. I vow, as I am lawful king of France, To recompense your reconcilèd love, With all the honours and affections That ever I vouchsaf'd my dearest friends.
_Nav._ It is enough if that Navarre may be Esteemèd faithful to the king of France, 10 Whose service he may still command till death.
_Henry._ Thanks to my kingly brother of Navarre. Then here we'll lie before Lutetia-walls,[427] Girting this strumpet city with our siege, Till, surfeiting with our afflicting arms, She cast her hateful stomach to the earth.
_Mes._ An it please your majesty, here is a friar of the order of the Jacobins, sent from the President of Paris, that craves access unto your grace.
_Henry._ Let him come in. [_Exit_ Mess. 20
_Eper._ I like not this friar's look: 'Twere not amiss, my lord, if he were search'd.
_Henry._ Sweet Epernoun, our friars are holy men. And will not offer violence to their king For all the wealth and treasure of the world.-- Friar, thou dost acknowledge me thy king?
_Fri._ I, my good lord, and will die therein.
_Henry._ Then come thou near, and tell what news thou bring'st.
_Fri._ My lord, The President of Paris greets your grace, 30 And sends his duty by these speedy lines, Humbly craving your gracious reply. [_Gives letter._