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 To punish those that doe prophane this holy feast.

Henry. How meanst thou that?

Cutpurse. O Lord, mine eare.

Mugeroun. Come sir, give me my buttons and heers your eare.

Guise. Sirra, take him away.

Henry. Hands of good fellow, I will be his baile For this offence: goe sirra, worke no more, Till this our Coronation day be past: And now our solemne rites of Coronation done, What now remaines, but for a while to feast, And spend some daies in barriers, tourny, tylte, and like disportes, such as doe fit the Court? Lets goe my Lords, our dinner staies for us.

My Lord Cardinall of Loraine, tell me, How likes your grace my sonnes pleasantnes? His minde you see runnes on his minions, And all his heaven is to delight himselfe: And whilste he sleepes securely thus in ease, Thy brother Guise and we may now provide, To plant our selves with such authoritie, as not a man may live without our leaves. Then shall the Catholick faith of Rome, Flourish in France, and none deny the same.

Car. Madam, as in secrecy I was tolde,