SCENE III.—An Audience Room in the Castle. Enter Attendant. Enter Henry in haste, with Gilbert a Lord.

Hen. Now by my crown, I’ll harry those villains out.

(To the Page.) Quick, wine! (To Gilbert.]) You say this news be true.

This Saxon Rodulph, would pluck Henry down,

And wear his Empery. Ha, this likes me well!

Gil. ’Tis said, Your Majesty, the Saxon towns

Have all revolted.

Hen. And Rudolph leads them!

Enter Bamburg.

Well, Bamburg, have you heard the latest news?

The North’s revolted. Rodulph heads the Saxons

To conquer Germany and take my crown,

And on it all, this bold, insulting letter,

Reads me a lesson from His Holiness,

Yon arrogant priest, the scheming Pope of Rome.

Bam. Henry, as your father’s oldest friend,

As your most faithful subject I would plead,

Be not o’er hasty in this sudden business.

Hen. Bamburg, I am sick of being a child,

You drive me mad by your pacific measures.

While you are dallying, they will ride me down

With squadrons and with curses. Nay, no more!

I’ll ride me north and show mine enemies

I’ll bring yon Rodulph’s head upon a pike-pole.

Bam. What of this Roman message?

Hen. Call in the messengers. (Enter a Cardinal and a Roman bishop.)

(To Ambs.) Go you to Rome?

Card. Yea, Your Majesty.

Hen. Go, tell your master, if he be the Pope

That I am Emperor, who can lift him down.

Tell him, in spiritual matters, Henry bows

To his opinion, in matters temporal, never!

This is my answer, safe speed you Romewards.

[Exit Ambassadors.

Bam. Your Majesty, before you go will see

But one more suppliant.

Hen. Nay, Bamburg, nay not now, I’m hurried.

Bam. By my love, I beseech you!

Hen. Is it so urgent? Well, be hasty Bamburg.

My troops await me, and my sword-arm aches

To hack yon Rodulph.

(Enter Queen veiled.) Who be this?

Bam. One who deserves your patience and your love,

If you love aught on earth, proud Henry.

Go you not forth to battle with your foes

Till you have made your spirit’s peace with her,

Your realm’s Queen, the mother of your child.

Hen. Bamburg, Bamburg, you trifle with my kindness.

This goes too far, know you that I am King!

One word and I will hale you to a dungeon

For this insult.

Queen. Henry, my Lord, one word before you go.

What have I done to gather all this hate?

Bam. Your Majesty may sever my poor body,

Mend you your love. Kill me, Henry, but

Murder not by scorn, the noblest love

That soul hath nourished. By these wintry hairs,

Though thou dost slay me, I will tell thee true

By this one act thou dost unking thyself.

Hen. No more, by heaven, no more, I know her not.

When will my subjects treat me less the child?

I am no ward now, and I ever hated

This foolish, enforced marriage. Let her Majesty

Get to some retirement. She demeans

Herself by these forced meetings.

[Exit.