University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Nuntio and Bishop.
Nunt.
Brother, I like the holy Motion well,
The Spirit of our Cause must be kept warm,
We must work on with a religious Fury,
Take hold on ev'ry Prop, Device, or Fraud,
Howe'er unjust, unwarrantably vile,
The Practice may appear to common Eyes,
To reach the glorious Goal of our Designs.
Delays too oft create a Lethargy,
The constant Issue of a vulgar Plot,
Form'd by mechanick Heads of drowsie Lay-men:
We who have sanguine Views, and Souls confirm'd
In the mysterious Principles of Rome,
Can weave our Scheme so fine, that he who dares
Inquisitively tread th'ambiguous Maze
In Search of our Designs, shall sink himself.
The Prince of Conde, and the proud Bouillon,
Both discontented league in one Revenge;
There, as you well advise, we work the next.

Bish.
Not that our Cause can need their puny Aid,
But 'twould be glorious Mischief, great Success,
To make them both (since they are both, 'tis plain,
Secret Abettors of this upstart Faith)
The Instruments of Ruin to themselves,
And the pernicious Faction they espouse.
But see, where close, in amicable Port,
Hugging each other on their new Alliance,
The vengeful Nobles come.

Nunt.
They come indeed:
Methinks, as when from far, with cruel Joy
The Eagle meditates his distant Prey,
My Heart, with an Alarm of prosp'rous Gladness,
Leaps at the future Mischief it intends 'em.
Let us withdraw some Distance hence, where yet
Unseen, we may attend their Conference.

[Exeunt.