University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Nuntio and Bishop return.
Nunt.
There let the shallow Politicians go,
Fret, rave, and foam, and bluster in high Words,
There lies their Talent, for Designs they've none;
Or if they have, they run not quite so deep,
But may be fathom'd with but half an Eye:
Spirit they have,—and may it drive them on
To all the pleasing Mischiefs, that our Church
Can wish this Knot of Heretick Opposers.

Bish.
But mark'd you whence their Grievances proceed?
The King has been too free with Conde's Wife;
Bouillon's Quarrel is a Love-Grudge too;
And that's, you know, the Principle from which
These brisk high-mettl'd Blades form all their Actions;
Hence Youthful Chiefs revolt; from hence arise
Rebellion, Discontents, and Civil Wars;
Hence do those Storms take Birth, that prove so oft
The Fate of Monarchs, and the Wreck of Empires.

Nunt.
Right, Love's their Maxim, as Religion ours:
Yet tell me who, the bravest of them all,
Tho' fierce Resentment boils in ev'ry Vein,
Can push his Vengeance with a Churchman's Spirit?
And yet, so much my Soul delights to hear
The Clash of Discord, and the Sword of Ruin,
Should one of these fierce talking, threatning Heroes
(Since on themselves they point their Civil Rage)
Dare some prodigious Mischief, could I hug
The useful Villain: nay, for once, almost
Run Counter to the Tenets of our Church,
And give the Rebel Heretick his Pardon.

Bish.
Tush, let 'em act or purpose what they please,
Resolve, break off, agree, or disagree,
Or carry their Resentments on, or take
A cool Reflection, and a serious Pause;
Already have we div'd into enough
To serve our present Cause, and ruin them:
The Kings and Conde's Wife, there's, there's our Mark!
Our Pulpits may from hence make glorious Use,
Shew forth the Royal Sinner, and his Vices,
With all the blackest Turns of sharp Reflection,
Our much-fam'd Jesuit Eloquence can reach;
Thus frighten from his side the People's Hearts,
And cloud his Lustre in the publick Eye,
Then take him off unpitied, unbelov'd.

Nunt.
The sooner the decisive Blow is struck,
The surer, and the safer for our Cause.
The discontented Nobles Flight from Court
Assures Success, and intimates, Strike now!
Who will not take the Odium all from us,
And throw the undisputed Guilt on them?
As for Ravilliac, him I doubt the least;
E'en now he's blaming the too tardy Hours,
That keep the happy bloody Minute back,
And panting to be register'd a Saint.
But hold,—I hear th'unwelcome Steps of some
That tend this way: 'Tis fit we disappear.

[Exeunt.