University of Virginia Library

ACT. V.

SCENE, The Castle of Bloise.
Enter Grillon, Alphonso Corso.
Grill.
Welcome Colonel, welcome to Bloise.

Alph.
Since last we parted at the Barricadoes,
The World's turn'd upside down.

Grill.
No, Faith, 'tis better, now 'tis downside up,
Our part o'th' wheel is rising, tho but slowly.

Alph.
Who lookt for an Assembly of the States?

Grill.

When the King was escap'd from Paris, and got out of
the Toyles, 'twas time for the Guise to take 'em down, and pitch
others: That is, to treat for the Calling of a Parliament, where
being sure of the major-part, he might get by Law, what he
had miss'd by Force.

Alph.

But why should the King assemble the States, to satisfie
the Guise after so many Affronts?

Grill.

For the same reason that a Man in a Duel says, he has received
satisfaction when he is first wounded, and afterwards disarm'd.

Alph.

But why this Parliament at Blois, and not at Paris?

Grill.

Because no Barricado's have been made at Blois: This
Blois is a very little Town, and the King can draw it after him.
But Paris is a damn'd, unweildy Bulk, and when the Preachers
draw against the King, a Parson in a Pulpit is a devilish Fore-horse.
Besides, I found in that Insurrection, what dangerous Beasts these
Townsmen are; I tell you, Colonel, a Man had better deal with
ten of their Wives, than with one zealous Citizen:

O your inspir'd Cuckold is most implacable.

Alph.

Is there any seeming kindness between the King, and the
Duke of Guise?

Grill.

Yes, most wonderful: They are as dear to one another,
as an old Usurer, and a rich young Heir upon a Mortgage. The
King is very Loyal to the Guise, and the Guise is very gracious to
the King: Then the Cardinal of Guise, and the Archbishop of
Lyons, are the two Pendants, that are always hanging at the Royal
Ear; They ease His Majesty of all the Spiritual business, and the
Guise of all the Temporal, so that the King is certainly the happiest
Prince in Christendom, without any care upon him: so yielding
up every thing to his Loyal Subjects that he's infallibly in the
way of being the greatest, and most glorious King in all the
world.

Alph.

Yet I have heard, he made a sharp reflecting Speech
upon their Party at the opening of the Parliament, admonish'd
Men of their Duties, pardon'd what was past, but seem'd to
threaten Vengeance, if they persisted for the future.

Grill.

Yes, and then they all took the Sacrament together:
He promising to unite himself to them, and they to obey him according
to the Laws; yet the very next morning they went on,

in pursuance of their old Commonwealth designs, as violently
as ever.

Alph.

Now am I dull enough to think they have broken their
Oath.

Grill.

I but you are but one private Man, and they are the three
States; And if they Vote that they have not broken their Oaths,
Who is to be Judge?

Alph.

There's One above.

Grill.

I hope you mean in Heaven, or else you are a bolder Man
than I am in Parliament-time; but here comes the Master and my
Neece.

Alph.

Heaven preserve him, if a Man may pray for him without
Treason.

Grill.

O Yes, You may pray for him, the Preachers of the
Guises side, do that most formally: Nay, You may be suffer'd
Civilly to drink his Health, be of the Court, and keep a place of
Profit under him: For, in short, 'tis a judg'd Case of Conscience,
to make your best of the King, and to side against him.

Enter King and Marmoutier.
King.
Grillon, Be near me,
There's something for my service to be done,
Your Orders will be sudden, now withdraw.

Grill.
aside.]

VVell, I dare trust my Neece, even tho' she
comes of my own Family; but if she Cuckolds my good Opinion
of her Honesty, there's a whole Sex fall'n under a General Rule
without one Exception.

[Exeunt Grill. and Alph.

Mar.
You bid my Uncle wait you.

King.
Yes.

Mar.
This hour.

King.
I think it was.

Mar.
Something of moment hangs upon this hour.

King.
Not more on this, than on the next and next,
My time is all ta'ne up on Usury;
I never am before hand with my hours,
But every one has work before it comes.

Mar.
There's something for my service to be done,
Those were your words.

King.
And you desire their meaning.

Mar.
I dare not ask, and yet perhaps may ghess.

King.
'Tis searching there where Heaven can only pry,
Not Man, who knows not Man but by surmise;
Nor Devils, nor Angels of a purer Mould,
Can trace the winding Labyrinths of Thought,
I tell thee, Marmoutier, I never speak
Not when alone, for fear some Fiend should hear,
And blab my Secrets out.

Mar.
You hate the Guise.

King.
True, I did hate him.

Mar.
And you hate him still.

King.
I am reconcil'd.

Mar.
Your Spirit is too high,
Great Souls forgive not injuries, till time
Has put their Enemies into their power,
That they may shew Forgiveness is their own;
For else 'tis fear to punish that forgives:
The Coward, not the King.

King.
He has submitted.

Mar.
In show, for in effect he still insults.

King.
Well, Kings must bear sometimes.

Mar.
They must, till they can shake their burden off,
And that's, I think, your aim.

King.
Mistaken still:
All Favours, all Preferments, pass through them,
I'm pliant, and they mould me as they please.

Mar.
These are your Arts to make 'em more secure,
Just so your Brother us'd the Admiral,
Brothers may think, and act like Brothers too.

King.
What said you, ha! what mean you Marmoutier?

Mar.
Nay, what mean you? That Start betray'd you, Sir.

King.
This is no Vigil of St. Bartholmew,
Nor is Blois Paris.

Mar.
'Tis an open Town.

King.
What then!

Mar.
Where you are strongest.

King.
Well, what then?

Mar.
No more, but you have Power, and are provok'd.

King.
O! Thou hast set thy Foot upon a Snake,
Get quickly off, or it will sting thee dead.

Mar.
Can I unknow it?

King.
No, but keep it secret.

Mar.
Think, Sir, your Thoughts are still as much your own,
As when you kept the Key of your own Breast:
But since you let me in, I find it fill'd
With Death and Horror; you would murder Guise.

King.
Murder! what Murder! use a softer word,
And call it Soveraign Justice.

Mar.
Wou'd I cou'd:
But Justice bears the Godlike shape of Law,
And Law requires Defence, and equal Plea
Betwixt th'Offender, and the righteous Judge.

King.
Yes, when th'Offender can be judg'd by Laws,
But when his Greatness overturns the Scales,
Then Kings are Justice in the last Appeal:
And forc'd by strong Necessity may strike,
In which indeed th'y assert the Publick Good,
And, like sworn Surgeons, lop the gangren'd Limb:
Unpleasant wholsom work.

Mar.
If this be needful.

King.
Ha, didst not thou thy self in fathoming
The depth of my designs, drop there the Plummet?
Didst thou not say Affronts, so Great, so Publick,
I never could forgive?

Mar.
I did but yet—

King.
What means, But yet? 'Tis Evidence so full,
If the last Trumpet sounded in my Ears,
Undaunted I should meet the Saints half way:
And in the Face of Heaven maintain the Fact.

Mar.
Maintain it then to Heaven, but not to me:
Do you love me?

King.
Can you doubt it?

Mar.
Yes, I can doubt it, if you can deny:
Love begs once more this great Offender's life,
Can you forgive the man you justly hate,
That hazards both your Life and Crown to spare him?
One whom you may suspect I more than pity,
(For I would have you see that what I ask,
I know is wond'rous difficult to grant)
Can you be thus extravagantly Good?

King.
What then? For I begin to fear my firmness:
And doubt the soft destruction of your tongue.

Mar.
Then in Return, I swear to Heaven, and you,
To give you all the Preference of my Soul:
No Rebel Rival to disturb you there,
Let him but live, that he may be my Convert.

[King walks awhile, then wipes his eyes, and speaks.
King.
You've Conquer'd, all that's past shall be forgiv'n,
My lavish Love has made a lavish Grant:
But know this Act of Grace shall be my last.
Let him repent, yes, let him well repent,
Let him desist, and tempt Revenge no further:
For by yond Heaven that's Conscious of his Crimes,
I will no more by Mercy be betray'd.
Deputies appearing at the Door.
The Deputies are entring, You must leave me:
Thus Tyrant Business all my hours usurps,
And makes me live for others.

Mar.
Now Heav'n reward you with a prosperous Reign,
And grant you never may be good in vain.

[Exit.
Enter Deputies of the Three States, Cardinal of Guise, and Archbishop of Lyons, at the Head of 'em.
King.
Well, my good Lords, what matters of importance
Employ'd the States this Morning?

Archb.
One high Point
Was warmly canvass'd in the Commons House,
And will be soon Resolv'd.

King.
What was't?

Card.
Succession.

King.
That's one high Point indeed, but not to be
So warmly canvass'd, or so soon Resolv'd.

Card.
Things necessary must sometimes be sudden.

King.
No sudden danger threatens you, my Lord.

Archb.
What may be sudden, must be counted so;
We hope, and wish Your Life: But Yours, and Ours,
Are in the hand of Heaven.

King.
My Lord, They are:
Yet in a Natural way I may live long,
If Heaven and You my Loyal Subjects please.

Archb.
But since good Princes, like Your Majesty,
Take care of dangers meerly possible,
Which may concern their Subjects whose they are,
And for whom Kings are made.

King.
Yes, we for them,
And they for us, the Benefits are mutual,
And so the Tyes are too.

Card.
To cut things short,
The Commons will decree to exclude Navar
From the Succession of the Realm of France.

King.
Decree, my Lord! What one Estate decree,
Where then are the other two, and what am I?
The Government is cast up somewhat short,
The Clergy and Nobility casheer'd,
Five hundred popular Figures on a Row,
And I my Self that am, or should be King,
An o'regrown Cypher set before the Sum:
What Reasons urge our Soveraigns for th'Exclusion?

Archb.
He stands suspected, Sir, of Heresie.

King.
Has he been call'd to make his just defence?

Card.
That needs not, for 'tis known.

King.
To whom?

Card.
The Commons.

King.
What is't those Gods the Commons do not know?
But Heresie you Church-men teach us Vulgar,
Supposes obstinate and stiff persisting
In Errors prov'd, long Admonitions made,
And all rejected, has this Course been us'd?

Archb.
We grant it has not, but—

King.
Nay, give me leave,
I urge from your own Grant, it has not been:
If then in process of a petty Sum,
Both Parties having not been fully heard,
No Sentence can be giv'n:
Much less in the Succession of a Crown,
Which after my decease, by Right Inherent,
Devolves upon my Brother of Navar.

Card.
The Right of Souls is still to be preferr'd,
Religion must not suffer for a Claim.

King.
If Kings may be excluded, or depos'd,
When e're you cry Religion to the Crowd,
That Doctrine makes Rebellion Orthodox,
And Subjects must be Traytors to be sav'd.

Archb.
Then Heresy's entail'd upon the Throne.

King.
You would entail Confusion, Wars and Slaughters:
Those ills are Certain, what you name Contingent.
I know my Brother's nature, 'tis sincere,
Above deceit, no crookedness of thought,
Says, what he means, and what he says, performs:
Brave, but not rash; successful, but not proud.
So much acknowledging that he's uneasie,
Till every petty service be o're paid.

Archb.
Some say revengeful.

King.
Some then libel him:
But that's what both of us have learn't to bear.
He can forgive, but you disdain Forgiveness:
Your Chiefs are they no Libel must profane:
Honour's a Sacred Thing in all but Kings;
But when your Rhimes assassinate our Fame,
You hug your nauseous, blund'ring Ballad-wits,
And pay 'em as if Nonsence were a merit,
If it can mean but Treason.

Archb.
Sir, we have many Arguments to urge—

King.
And I have more to answer, let 'em know
My Royal Brother of Navar shall stand
Secure by Right, by Merit, and my Love.
God, and good men will never fail his Cause,
And all the bad shall be constrain'd by Laws.

Archb.
Since gentle means t'exclude Navar are vain,
To morrow in the States 'twill be propos'd,
To make the Duke of Guise Lieutenant-General,
Which Power most graciously confirm'd by you,
Will stop this headlong Torrent of Succession,
That bears Religion, Laws, and all before it,
In hope you'll not oppose what must be done,
We wish you, Sir, a long and prosp'rous Reign.

[Exeunt Omnes, but the King.
King.
To morrow Guise is made Lieutenant-General,
Why then to morrow I no more am King;
'Tis time to push my slack'nd vengeance home,
To be a King, or not to be at all;
The Vow that manacled my Rage is loos'd,
Even Heaven is wearied with repeated Crimes,
Till lightning flashes round to guard the Throne,
And the curb'd Thunder grumbles to be gone.

Enter Grillon to him.
Grill.
'Tis just the pointed hour you bid me wait.

King.
So just, as if thou wert inspir'd to come;
As if the Guardian Angel of my Throne,
Who had o'reslept himself so many Years,
Just now was rouz'd, and brought thee to my rescue.

Grill.
I hear the Guise will be Lieutenant-General.

King.
And canst thou suffer it?

Grill.

Nay, if you will suffer it, then well may I.
If Kings will be so civil to their Subjects, to give up all things
tamely, they first turn Rebels to themselves, and that's a fair example
for their Friends; 'Slife, Sir, 'tis a dangerous matter to be
Loyal on the wrong side, to serve my Prince in spight of him; if
you'l be a Royalist your self, there are Millions of honest Men will
fight for you; but if you wo'n not, there are few will hang for
you.

King.
No more: I am resolv'd,
The course of things can be with-held no longer
From breaking forth to their appointed end:
My vengeance, ripen'd in the womb of time,
Presses for birth, and longs to be disclos'd.
Grillon, the Guise is doom'd—to sudden death:
The Sword must end him; Has not thine an Edge?

Grill.
Yes, and a Point too; I'le challenge him:

King.
—I bid thee kill him.

[Walping.
Grill.
—So I mean to do.

King.
—Without thy hazard.

Grill.
Now I understand you, I shou'd murder him:
I am your Soldier, Sir, but not your Hangman.

King.
—Dost thou not hate him?

Grill.
—Yes.

King.
Hast thou not said,
That he deserves it?

Grill.
Yes, but how have I
Deserv'd to do a Murder?

King.
'Tis no Murder:
'Tis Soveraign Justice urg'd from Self Defence.

Grill.
'Tis all confest, and yet I dare not do't.

King.
Go, Thou art a Coward.

Grill.
You are my King.

King.
Thou say'st thou dar'st not kill him.

Grill.
Were I a Coward, I had been a Villain,
And then I durst ha' don't.

King.
Thou hast done worse in thy long course of Arms,
Hast thou ne're kill'd a Man?

Grill.
Yes, when a Man wou'd have kill'd me.

King.
Hast thou not plunder'd from the helpless Poor?
Snatch'd from the sweating Labourer his Food?

Grill.
Sir, I have eaten and drunk in my own defence,
When I was hungry and thirsty.
I have plunder'd,
When you have not paid me—
I have been content with a Farmer's Daughter,
When a better Whore was not to be had.
As for Cutting off a Traytor, I'le execute him lawfully
In my own Function, when I meet him in the Field;
But for your Chamber-practice, that's not my Talent.

King.
Is my Revenge Unjust, or Tyrannous?
Heaven knows, I love not Blood.

Grill.
No, for your Mercy is your onely Vice.
You may dispatch a Rebel lawfully,
But the mischief is, that Rebel
Has given me my Life at the Barricadoes,
And till I have return'd his Bribe,
I am not upon even terms with him.

King.
Give me thy hand, I love thee not the worse;
Make much of Honour, 'tis a Soldier's Conscience,
Thou shalt not do this Act, thou'rt ee'n too good;
But keep my Secret, for that's Conscience too.

Grill.
When I disclose it, think I am a Coward.

King.
No more of that, I know thou art not one:
Call Lognac hither straight, and St. Malin;
Bid Larchant find some unsuspected means
To keep Guards doubled at the Council door,
That none pass in or out, but those I call:
The rest I'le think on further, so farewel.

Grill.
Heaven bless your Majesty!
Tho I'le not kill him for you, I'de defend you when he's kill'd,
For the honest part of the Jobb let me alone.

[Exeunt severally.
The Scene opens, and discovers Men and Women at a Banquet, Malicorne standing by.
Mal.
This is the Solemn Annual Feast I keep,
As this day Twelve Year on this very hour
I sign'd the Contract for my Soul with Hell;
I barter'd it for Honours, Wealth, and Pleasure,
Three things which mortal Men do covet most.
And, Faith, I over-sold it to the Fiend:
What, One and twenty Years, Nine yet to come,
How can a Soul be worth so much to Devils?
O how I hug my self, to out-wit these Fools of Hell!
And yet a sudden damp, I know not why,
Has seiz'd my spirits, and like a heavy weight
Hangs on their active springs, I want a Song
To rouze me, my blood freezes: Musick there?

After a Song and Dance, loud knocking at the door. Enter Servant.
[Mal.]
What Noise is that?

Serv.
An ill-look'd surly Man,
With a hoarse voice, says he must speak with you.

Mal.
Tell him I dedicate this day to pleasure,
I neither have, nor will have Business with him.
[Exit Serv.
What louder yet, what sawcy Slave is this?

[Knock louder.
Re-enter Servant.
Serv.
He says you have, and must have Business with him,
Come out, or hee'l come in, and spoil your Mirth.

Mal.
I wo'n not.

Serv.
Sir, I dare not tell him so,
[Knock again more fiercely.
My hair stands up in bristles when I see him:
The Dogs run into Corners; the Spade Bitch
Bayes at his back, and howls.

Mal.
Bid him enter, and go off thy self.
[Exit Serv.
Scene closes upon the Company.
Enter Melanax, an Hour-glass in his hand almost empty.
How dar'st thou interrupt my softer hours?
By Heaven I'le ramm thee in some knotted Oak,
Where thou shalt sigh and groan to whistling winds,
Upon the lonely Plain:
Or I'le confine thee deep in the Red Sea grov'ling on the Sands,
Ten thousand Billows rowling o're thy head.

Mel.
Hoh, hoh, hoh.

Mal.
Laugh'st, thou malicious Fiend?
I'le ope my Book of bloody Characters,
Shall rumple up thy tender airy Limbs,
Like Parchment on a flame.

Mel.
Thou canst not do't,
Behold this Hour-glass.

Mal.
Well, and what of that?

Mel.
See'st thou these ebbing Sands?
They run for thee, and when their Race is run,
Thy Lungs the Bellows of thy mortal breath,
Shall sink for ever down, and heave no more.

Mal.
What, resty Fiend?
Nine Years thou hast to serve.

Mel.
Not full Nine Minutes.

Mal.
Thou ly'st, look on thy Bond, and view the date.

Mel.
Then wilt thou stand to that without Appeal?

Mal.
I will so, help me Heav'n.

Mel.
So take thee Hell.
[Gives him the Bond.
There, Fool, behold, who lyes, the Devil or thou?

Mal.
Ha! One and twenty Years are shrunk to twelve,
Do my Eyes dazle?

Mel.
No, they see too true:
They dazl'd once, I cast a Mist before 'em,
So what was figur'd Twelve, to thy dull sight
Appear'd full Twenty one.

Mal.
There's Equity in Heaven for this, a Cheat.

Mel.
Fool, thou hast quitted thy Appeal to Heaven,
To stand to this.

Mal.
Then I am lost for ever.

Mel.
Thou art.

Mal.
O why was I not warn'd before?

Mel.
Yes, to repent then thou hadst cheated me.

Mal.
Add but a day, but half a day, an hour:
For sixty Minutes I'le forgive nine Years.

Mel.
No not a Moments thought beyond my time:
Dispatch, 'tis much below me to attend
For one poor single Fare.

Mal.
So pitiless?
But yet I may command thee, and I will:
I love the Guise even with my latest breath
Beyond my Soul, and my lost hopes of Heav'n;
I charge thee by my short-liv'd power, disclose
What Fate attends my Master.

Mel.
If he goes
To Council when he next is call'd, he dyes.

Mal.
Who waits?
Enter Servant.
Go, give my Lord my last adieu,
Say I shall never see his Eyes agen:
But if he goes when next he's call'd to Council,
Bid him believe my latest breath, he dyes.
[Exit Serv.
The Sands run yet, O do not shake the Glass:
[Devil shakes the Glass.
I shall be thine too soon, cou'd I repent,
Heaven's not confin'd to Moments, Mercy, Mercy.

Mel.
I see thy Prayers disperst into the winds,
And Heaven has puft 'em by:
I was an Angel once of foremost Rank,
Stood next the shining Throne, and wink'd but half,
So almost gaz'd I glory in the Face
That I could bear it, and star'd farther in,
'Twas but a Moments pride, and yet I fell,
For ever fell, but Man, base Earth-born Man,
Sins past a Sum, and might be pardon'd more,
And yet 'tis just; for we were perfect Light,
And saw our Crimes, Man in his Body's mire,
Half soul, Half clod, sinks blindfold into sin,
Betray'd by Frauds without, and Lusts within.

Mal.
Then I have hope.

Mel.
Not so, I preach'd on purpose
To make thee lose this Moment of thy Prayer,
Thy Sand creeps low, Despair, Despair, Despair.

Mal.
Where am I now? Upon the brink of Life,
The Gulph before me, Devils to push me on,
And Heaven behind me closing all its doors.
A thousand Years for ev'ry Hour I've past,
O cou'd I scape so cheap! But Ever, Ever,
Still to begin an endless round of Woes,
To be renew'd for Pains, and last for Hell?
Yet can Pains last, when Bodies cannot last?
Can earthy Substance endless Flames endure?
Or when one Body wears, and flits away,
Do Souls thrust forth another Crust of Clay?
To fence and guard their tender forms from fire—
I feel my heart-strings rend, I'm here, I'm gone:
Thus Men too careless of their future State,
Dispute, know nothing, and believe too late.

[A flash of Lightning, they sink together.
Duke of Guise, Cardinal, Aumale.
Card.
A dreadful Message from a dying Man,
A Prophesie indeed!
For Souls just quitting Earth, peep into Heaven,
Make swift Acquaintance, with their Kindred forms,
And Partners of Immortal Secrets grow.

Aum.
'Tis good to lean on the securer side:
When Life depends, the mighty Stake is such,
Fools fear too little, and they dare too much.

Enter Archbishop.
Guise.
You have prevail'd, I will not go to Council,
I have provok'd my Soveraign past a Pardon,
It but remains to doubt if he dare kill me:
Then if he dares but to be just, I dye,
'Tis too much odds against me, I'le depart,
And finish Greatness at some safer time.

Archb.
By Heaven 'tis Harry's Plot to fright you hence,
That, Coward-like, you might forsake your Friends.

Guise.
The Devil foretold it dying Malicorne.

Archb.
Yes, some Court-Devil, no doubt:
If you depart, consider, good my Lord,
You are the Master-spring that move our Fabrick,
Which once remov'd, our Motion is no more.
Without your Presence, which buoys up our hearts,
The League will sink beneath a Royal Name:
Th'inevitable Yoke prepar'd for Kings,
Will soon be shaken off; Things done, repeal'd;
And Things undone, past future Means to do.

Card.
I know not, I begin to taste his Reasons.

Archb.
Nay, were the danger certain of your stay,
An Act so mean would lose you all your Friends,
And leave you single to the Tyrant's Rage:
Then better 'tis to hazard Life alone,
Than Life, and Friends, and Reputation too.

Guise.
Since more I am confirm'd, I'le stand the shock:
Where e're he dares to call, I dare to go.
My Friends are many, faithful and united,
He will not venture on so rash a deed:
And now I wonder I should fear that Force,
Which I have us'd to Conquer and Contemn.

Enter Marmoutier.
Archb.
Your Tempter comes, perhaps, to turn the Scale,
And warn you not to go.

Guise.
O fear her not,
I will be there.
[Exeunt Archbishop and Cardinal.
What can she mean, Repent?
Or is it cast betwixt the King and her
To sound me; Come what will, it warms my heart
With secret joy, which these my ominous Statesmen
Left dead within me, ha! she turns away.

Mar.
Do you not wonder at this Visit, Sir?

Guise.
No, Madam, I at last have gain'd the Point
Of mightiest Minds to wonder now at nothing.

Mar.
—Believe me, Guise, 'twere gallantly resolv'd,
If you cou'd carry't on the inside too,
Why came that Sigh uncall'd? For Love of me
Partly perhaps, but more for thirst of Glory,
Which now agen dilates it self in Smiles,
As if you scorn'd that I should know your purpose.

Guise.
I change 'tis true, because I love you still,
Love you, O Heav'n, ev'n in my own despight,
I tell you all even at that very Moment,
I know you straight betray me to the King.

Mar.
O Guise, I never did, but, Sir, I come
To tell you, I must never see you more.

Guise.
The King's at Blois, and you have reason for't,
Therefore what am I to expect from pity?
From yours, I mean, when you behold me slain.

Mar.
First answer me, and then I'le speak my heart,
Have you, O Guise, since your last Solemn Oaths,
Stood firm to what you swore? Be plain, my Lord,
Or run it o're awhile, because agen
I tell you I must never see you more.

Guise.
Never! She's set on by the King to sift me,
Why by that Never then, all I have sworn
Is true, as that the King designs to end me.

Mar.
Keep your Obedience, by the Saints you live.

Guise.
Then mark, 'tis judg'd by heads grown white in Council,
This very day he means to cut me off.

Mar.
—By Heaven then you'r forsworn, you've broke your
Vows.

Guise.
—By you the Justice of the Earth I have not.

Mar.
—By you Dissembler of the world you have,
I know the King.

Guise.
—I do believe you, Madam.

Mar.
—I have try'd you both.

Guise.
—Not me, the King you mean.

Mar.
—Do these o'reboyling Answers suit the Guise,
But go to Council, Sir, there shew your truth,
If you are innocent you're safe, but O
If I shou'd chance to see you stretcht along,
Your Love, O Guise, and your Ambition gone,
That venerable Aspect pale with death,
I must conclude you merited your end.

Guise.
—You must, you will, and smile upon my Murder.

Mar.
Therefore if you are conscious of a Breach,
Confess it to me: Lead me to the King,
He has promis'd me to conquer his Revenge,
And place you next him; therefore if you're right,
Make me not fear it by Asseverations:
But speak your heart, and O resolve me truly.

Guise.
—Madam, I ha' thought, and trust you with my Soul;
You saw but now my parting with my Brother,
The Prelate too of Lyons, 'twas debated
Warmly against me that I should go on.

Mar.
—Did I not tell you, Sir?

Guise.
—True, but in spight
Of those Imperial Arguments they urg'd,
I was not to be work'd from second thought,
There we broke off; And, mark me, if I live,
You are the Saint that makes a Convert of me.

Mar.
Go then, O Heaven! VVhy must I still suspect you?
VVhy heaves my Heart? And why o'reflow my Eyes?
Yet if you live, O Guise, there, there's the Cause,
I never shall converse, nor see you more.

Guise.
O say not so, for Once again I'le see you,
VVere you this very Night to lodge with Angels,
Yet say not Never; for I hope by Virtue
To merit Heaven, and wed you late in Glory.

Mar.
This Night, my Lord, I'm a Recluse for ever.

Guise.
Ha! Stay till Morning Tapers are too dim;
Stay till the Sun rises to salute you;
Stay till I lead you to that dismal Den
Of Virgins, buried quick, and stay for Ever.

Mar.
Alas! Your Suit is vain, for I have vow'd it:
Nor was there any other way to clear
Th'imputed stains of my suspected Honour.

Guise.
Hear me a word, one Sigh, one Tear, at parting,
And one last Look; for, O my earthly Saint,
I see your Face pale, as the Cherubins
At Adam's Fall.

Mar.
O Heaven I now confess,
My heart bleeds for thee Guise.

Guise.
Why Madam, why?

Mar.
Because by this Disorder,
And that sad Fate that bodes upon your Brow,
I do believe you love me more than Glory.

Guise.
Without an Oath I do, therefore have Mercy,
And think not Death cou'd make me tremble thus:
Be pitiful to those Infirmities
Which thus Unman me, stay till the Council's o're;
If you are pleas'd to grant an hour or two
To my last Pray'r, I'le thank you as my Saint;
If you refuse me, Madam, I'le not murmur.

Mar.
Alas, my Guise! O Heav'n, what did I say?
But take it, take it, if it be too kind,
Honour may pard'n it, since it is my last.

Guise.
O let me crawl, Vile as I am, and kiss
[She gives him her Hand.
Your Sacred Robe. Is't possible, Your Hand!
O that it were my last expiring Moment,
For I shall never taste the like again.

Mar.
Farewell my Proselyte, your better Genius
Watch your Ambition.

Guise.
I have none but you,
Must I ne're see you more?

Mar.
I have sworn you must not:
Which Thought thus roots me here, melts my Resolves,
[Weeps.
And makes me loyter when the Angels call me.

Guise.
O ye Celestial Dewes! O Paradise!
O Heav'n! O Joys! Ne're to be tasted more.

Mar.
Nay take a little more, cold Marmoutier,
The temperate, devoted Marmoutier
Is gone, a last Embrace I must bequeath you.

Guise.
And O let me return it with another.

Mar.
Farewell for ever; Ah, Guise, tho now we part
In the bright Orbs prepar'd us by our Fates,
Our Souls shall meet—Farewell—and Io's sing above,
Where no Ambition, nor State-Crime, the happier spirits prove,
But all are blest, and all enjoy an everlasting Love.
[Exit Mar.

Guise solus.
Guise.
Glory, where art thou? Fame, Revenge, Ambition,
Where are you fled? there's Ice upon my Nerves:
My Salt, my Mettal, and my Spirits gone,
Pall'd as a Slave that's Bed-rid with an Ague,
I wish my flesh were off: What now! Thou bleed'st
Three, and no more! What then? And why what then?
But just three drops! And why not just three drops,
As well as four or five, or five and twenty?

Enter a Page.
Page.
My Lord, your Brother and the Archbishop wait you.

Guise.
I come, down Devil, ha! Must I stumble too?
Away ye Dreams, What if it thunder'd Now?
Or if a Raven cross'd me in my way:
Or now it comes, because last Night I dreamt
The Council-Hall was hung with Crimson round,
And all the Cieling plaister'd o're with black.
No more, blue Fires, and ye dull rowling Lakes,
Fathomless Caves, ye Dungeons of old Night,
Fantoms be gone, if I must dye, I'le fall
True Polititian, and defie you all.

SCENE II.

The Court before the Council-Hall.
Grillon, Larchant, Soldiers plac'd, People crowding.
Grill.
Are your Guards doubl'd, Captain?

Larch.
Sir, They are.

Grill.
When the Guise comes, remember your Petition,
Make way there for his Eminence; Give back,
Your Eminence comes late.

Enter two Cardinals, Counsellors, the Cardinal of Guise, Archbishop of Lyons, last the Guise.
Guise.
Well, Colonel, Are we Friends?

Grill.
Faith, I think not.

Guise.
Give me your Hand.

Grill.
No, for that gives a Heart.

Guise.
Yet we shall clasp in Heaven.

Grill.
By Heaven we shall not,
Unless it be with Gripes.

Guise.
True Grillon still.

Larch.
My Lord.

Guise.
Ha Captain, you are well attended,
If I mistake not, Sir, your Number's doubl'd.

Larch.
All these have serv'd against the Hereticks,
And therefore beg your Grace you would remember
Their VVounds, and lost Arrears.

Guise.
It shall be done.
Agen my heart, there is a weight upon thee,
But I will sigh it off, Captain Farewell.

[Exeunt Cardinal, Guise, &c.
Grill.
Shut the Hall-door, and bar the Castle-Gates:
March, March there Closer yet, Captain to the door.

[Ex.

SCENE III.

Council-Hall.
Guise.
I do not like my self to day.

Archb.
—A Qualm, he dares not.

Card.
—That's one Man's thought, he dares, and that's anothers.

Enter Grillon.
Guise.
O Marmoutier, Ha never see thee more,
Peace my tumultuous heart, why jolt my spirits
In this unequal Circling of my Blood,
I'le stand it while I may, O Mighty Nature!
VVhy this Alarm, why dost thou call me on
To fight, yet rob my Limbs of all their use.

[Swoons.
Card.
Ha! He's fall'n, chase him: He comes agen.

Guise.
I beg your Pardons, Vapours no more.

Grill.
Th'Effect
Of last Nights Lechery with some working VVhore.

Enter Revol.
Revol.
My Lord of Guise, the King would speak with you.

Guise.
O Cardinal, O Lyons, but no more,
Yes, one word more, thou hast a Priviledge
[To the Cardinal.
To speak with a Recluse, O therefore tell her,
If never thou behold'st me breathe again,
Tell her I sigh'd it last—O Marmoutier.

[Exit bowing.
Card.
You will have all things your own way, my Lord,
By Heav'n, I have strange horror on my Soul.

Archb.
I say agen, that Henry dares not do't.

Card.
Beware your Grace of Minds that bear like him,
I know he scorns to stoop to mean Revenge;
But when some mightier Mischief shocks his Toure,
He shoots at once with thunder on his wings,
And makes it Air, but hark, my Lord, 'tis doing.

Guise
within.]
Murderers, Villains!

Archb.
I hear your Brother's voice, run to the door.

Card.
Help, help, the Guise is murder'd.

Archb.
Help, help.

Grill.
Cease your vain Cryes, you are the King's Prisoners,
Take 'em Dugast into your Custody.

Card.
We must obey, my Lord, for Heaven calls us.

[Exeunt.
The Scene draws behind it a Traverse.
The Guise is assaulted by Eight, They stab him in all parts, but most in the head.
Guise.
O Villains! Hell hounds! Hold:
[Half draws, his Sword, is held.
Murder'd, O basely, and not draw my Sword,
Dog, Logniac, but my own blood choaks me,
[Flings himself upon him—Dies.
Down, Villain, Down, I'm gone, O Marmoutier.

The Traverse is drawn.
The King rises from his Chair, comes forward with his Cabinet Council.
King.
Open the Closet, and let in the Council;
Bid Dugast execute the Cardinal,
Seize all the Factious Leaders, as I order'd,
And every one be answer'd on your Lives.
Enter Queen Mother, followed by the Counsellors.
O, Madam, you are welcome, how goes your health?

Queenm.
A little mended, Sir, what have you done?

King.
That which has made me King of France, for there
The King of Paris at your Feet lies dead.

Queenm.
You have cut out dangerous work, but make it up
With speed and resolution.

King.
Yes, I'le wear
The Fox no longer, but put on the Lyon;
And since I could resolve to take the Heads
Of this great Insurrection, you the Members
Look to't, Beware, turn from your stubbornness,
And learn to know me, for I will be King.

Grill.
'Sdeath, how the Traytors lowre and quake, and droop,
And gather to the wing of his protection,
As if they were his Friends, and fought his Cause.

King
, looking upon Guise.
Be witness, Heaven, I gave him treble warning,
He's gone, no more disperse, and think upon't,
Beware my Sword, which if I once unsheath,
By all the Reverence due to Thrones and Crowns,
Nought shall atone the Vows of speedy Justice,
Till Fate to Ruine every Traytor brings,
That dares the Vengeance of indulgent Kings.