University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Bishop and Nuntio.
Bish.
I have perus'd the Grievances set forth
In your Commission from the Holy See;
And trust me, Brother, with a Churchman's Heart,
A warm resenting Heart, ay such a one,
As Rome when injur'd gives her great Avengers.

Nunt.
Strikes it not deeply on a Churchman's Soul,
To see the mightiest Attribute he boasts,
Infallibility, so slightly made of,
Exploded by a Lay Self-judging Crew,
The holy darling Sweets of Priesthood lost;
Authority, Authority and Profit,
That ought to lift us up above the Run
Of common Men, dismembred from our Office?
Would it not call for Vengeance up in Stones?
Shall we be then inanimate and mute,
Sensless of Wrongs, unactive in Revenge?
We must, we will redress it; and by Means
That shall effect the Remedy or soon,
Or plunge all Europe in the general Ruin.

Bish.
Spoke with the Spirit of a Son of Rome?
Oh how it warms these winter wither'd Veins,
Glads this old Heart, that droop'd e'en to Despair
At the malignant Injuries our Church,
And we, its Venerable Chiefs, endure;
The Innovations this pernicious Weed
Of Heresy, this Thinking Reasoning Tribe
Makes day by day uncensur'd, unreprov'd;
To see we yet have Champions like thy self,
Unshock'd aspiring Souls, that dare stand up
In brave Defiance to a Rebel Age.

Nunt.
The State is sick, corrupted through and through,
Whilst from the Head the Malady proceeds:
Say we not then, since we have trac'd the Source,
To stop the Progress of the growing Ill,
The Cure must be attempted on the Head?

Bish.
Thy Words too plainly intimate thy Thoughts,
And bear the Truth and Anguish of thy Soul,
I join in thy Opinion, as I swear
By all that Priests hold dearest, Wealth and Power,
By all the Hopes and Sweetness of Revenge,
To join in any Enterprize propos'd,
To raise the Priestly Honour, and to cut
From Earth, Top, Root, and Branch, this Rival Sect.

Nunt.
What honest zealous Catholick reflects,
But with the strongest Violence of Joy,
On that for ever memorable Day,
When at this Henry's Wedding, by the Sword
Of Pious Leaguers, at one destin'd Hour,
Two Hundred Thousand of this cursed Race
Met with a glorious unexpected Banquet,
Lay drunk and floating in each other's Blood,
One common Victim to the Rage of Rome?

Bish.
O Heart-reviving Scene! O great Remembrance!
Such ever be the Doom, and such the Fate
Of that impassive, that repugnant Tribe
Of unconforming Hereticks, who dare
Set up malignant Notions of their own,
And whom our injur'd Church marks out for Vengeance:
Oh! to compleat the Fortune of that Day,
Conclude their Ruin, and our own Revenge,
At what a Price, what Hazard would I purchase
A new, like that, auspicious bloody Hour,
To make the Holy Massacre entire,
And sweep away the Gleanings of the last!

Nunt.
Rightly observ'd, and piously resolv'd;
There must be yet a second Day of Vengeance,
As well prepar'd and bloody as the first,
Where (cursed Oversight of credulous Pity!)
This perjur'd Henry, this Apostate King,
Vow'd with a feign'd Remorse, and faithless Heart,
An unsincere Conversion to our Church;
And thus (Oh damn'd successful Artifice!)
Surviv'd the Fate and Slaughter of the Day.
Yet will we drive him to the Verge of Fate,
High as he stands in Empire, strongly fenc'd
By a successive Chain of prosperous Guilt,
Dreadless of Harm, and in himself secure,
Him with the Refuse of his Tribe devote,
A bloody grateful Sacrifice to Rome:
Thus all our dreaded Injuries atone,
Prevent the future, and revenge the past.

Bish.
Since thus our Thoughts are mutual to advance
Our mutual Interests, and the Church's Power,
Here break we off, to some more safe Retreat,
Where Plots take birth, and deep-laid Treasons thrive;
There in the friendly Gloom of secret Night,
Concert secure this holy Grand Affair.

[Exeunt.