ACT III. SCENE I.

_Enter_ GRILLON _and_ POLIN._

_Gril._ Have then this pious Council of Sixteen Scented your late discovery of the plot?

_Pol._ Not as from me; for still I kennel with them. And bark as loud as the most deep-mouthed traitor, Against the king, his government, and laws; Whereon immediately there runs a cry Of,--Seize him on the next procession! seize him. And clap the Chilperick in a monastery! Thus it was fixt, as I before discovered; But when, against his custom, they perceived The king absented, strait the rebels met, And roared,--they were undone.

_Gril._ O, 'tis like them; 'Tis like their mongrel souls: flesh them with fortune, And they will worry royalty to death; But if some crabbed virtue turn and pinch them, Mark me, they'll run, and yelp, and clap their tails, Like curs, betwixt their legs, and howl for mercy.

_Pol._ But Malicorn, sagacious on the point, Cried,--Call the sheriffs, and bid them arm their bands; Add yet to this, to raise you above hope, The Guise, my master, will be here to-day.-- For on bare guess of what has been revealed, He winged a messenger to give him notice; Yet, spite of all this factor of the fiends Could urge, they slunk their heads, like hinds in storms. But see, they come.

_Enter Sheriffs, with the Populace._

_Gril._ Away, I'll have amongst them; Fly to the king, warn him of Guise's coming, That he may strait despatch his strict commands To stop him. [_Exit_ POLIN.

_1 Sher._ Nay, this is colonel Grillon, The blunderbuss o'the court; away, away, He carries ammunition in his face.

_Gril._ Hark you, my friends, if you are not in haste, Because you are the pillars of the city, I would inform you of a general ruin.

_2 Sher._ Ruin to the city! marry, heaven forbid!

_Gril._ Amen, I say; for, look you, I'm your friend. 'Tis blown about, you've plotted on the king, To seize him, if not kill him; for, who knows, When once your conscience yields, how far 'twill stretch; Next, quite to dash your firmest hopes in pieces, The duke of Guise is dead.

_1 Sher._ Dead, colonel!

_2 Sher._ Undone, undone!

_Gril._ The world cannot redeem you; For what, sirs, if the king, provoked at last, Should join the Spaniard, and should fire your city; Paris, your head,--but a most venomous one,-- Which must be blooded?

_1 Sher._ Blooded, colonel!

_Gril._ Ay, blooded, thou most infamous magistrate, Or you will blood the king, and burn the Louvre; But ere that be, fall million miscreant souls, Such earth-born minds as yours; for, mark me, slaves, Did you not, ages past, consign your lives, Liberties, fortunes, to Imperial hands, Made them the guardians of your sickly years? And now you're grown up to a booby's greatness, What, would you wrest the sceptre from his hand? Now, by the majesty of kings I swear, You shall as soon be saved for packing juries.

_1 Sher._ Why, sir, mayn't citizens be saved?

_Gril._ Yes, sir, From drowning, to be hanged, burnt, broke o'the wheel.

_1 Sher._ Colonel, you speak us plain.

_Gril._ A plague confound you, Why should I not? what is there in such rascals, Should make me hide my thought, or hold my tongue? Now, in the devil's name, what make you here, Daubing the inside of the court, like snails, Sliming our walls, and pricking out your horns? To hear, I warrant, what the king's a doing, And what the cabinet-council; then to the city, To spread your monstrous lies, and sow sedition? Wild fire choke you!

_1 Sher._ Well, we'll think of this; And so we take our leaves.

_Gril._ Nay, stay, my masters; For I'm a thinking now just whereabouts Grow the two tallest trees in Arden forest.

_1 Sher._ For what, pray, colonel, if we may be so bold?

_Gril._ Why, to hang you upon the highest branches. 'Fore God, it will be so; and I shall laugh To see you dangling to and fro i'the air, With the honest crows pecking your traitors' limbs.

_All._ Good colonel!

_Gril._ Good rats, my precious vermin. You moving dirt, you rank stark muck o'the world, You oven-bats, you things so far from souls, Like dogs, you're out of Providence's reach, And only fit for hanging; but be gone, And think of plunder.--You right elder sheriff, Who carved our Henry's image on a table, At your club-feast, and after stabbed it through,--[11]

_1 Sher._ Mercy, good colonel.

_Gril._ Run with your nose to earth; Run, blood-hound, run, and scent out royal murder.-- You second rogue, but equal to the first, Plunder, go hang,--nay, take your tackling with you, For these shall hold you fast,--your slaves shall hang you. To the mid region in the sun: Plunder! Begone, vipers, asps, and adders! [_Exeunt Sheriffs and People._

_Enter_ MALICORN.

Ha! but here comes a fiend, that soars above; A prince o'the air, that sets the mud a moving.

_Mal._ Colonel, a word.

_Gril._ I hold no speech with villains.

_Mal._ But, sir, it may concern your fame and safety.

_Gril._ No matter; I had rather die traduced, Than live by such a villain's help as thine.

_Mal._ Hate then the traitor, but yet love the treason.

_Gril._ Why, are you not a villain?

_Mal._ 'Tis confessed.

_Gril._ Then, in the name of all thy brother-devils, What wouldst thou have with me?

_Mal._ I know you're honest; Therefore it is my business to disturb you.

_Gril._ 'Fore God, I'll beat thee, if thou urge me farther.

_Mal._ Why, though you should, yet, if you hear me after, The pleasure I shall take in your vexation, Will heal my bruises.

_Gril._ Wert thou definite rogue, I'faith, I think, that I should give thee hearing; But such a boundless villainy as thine Admits no patience.

_Mal._ Your niece is come to court, And yields her honour to our Henry's bed.

_Gril._ Thou liest, damned villain. [_Strikes him._

_Mal._ So: why this I looked for; But yet I swear by hell, and my revenge, 'Tis true, as you have wronged me.

_Gril._ Wronged thee, villain! And name revenge! O wert thou Grillon's match, And worthy of my sword, I swear, by this One had been past an oath; but thou'rt a worm, And if I tread thee, darest not turn again.

_Mal._ 'Tis false; I dare, like you, but cannot act; There is no force in this enervate arm. Blasted I was ere born--curse on my stars!-- Got by some dotard in his pithless years, And sent a withered sapling to the world. Yet I have brain, and there is my revenge; Therefore I say again, these eyes have seen Thy blood at court, bright as a summer's morn, When all the heaven is streaked with dappled fires. And flecked with blushes like a rifled maid; Nay, by the gleamy fires that melted from her, Fast sighs and smiles, swol'n lips, and heaving breasts, My soul presages Henry has enjoyed her.

_Gril._ Again thou liest! and I will crumble thee, Thou bottled spider, into thy primitive earth, Unless thou swear thy very thought's a lie.

_Mal._ I stand in adamant, and thus defy thee! Nay, draw, and with the edge betwixt my lips, Even while thou rak'st it through my teeth, I'll swear All I have said is true, as thou art honest, Or I a villain.

_Gril._ Damned infamous wretch! So much below my scorn, I dare not kill thee; And yet so much my hate, that I must fear thee. For should it be as thou hast said, not all The trophies of my laurelled honesty Should bar me from forsaking this bad world, And never draw my sword for Henry more.

_Mal._ Ha! 'tis well, and now I am revenged. I was in hopes thou wouldst have uttered treason, And forfeited thy head, to pay me fully.

_Gril._ Hast thou compacted for a lease of years With hell, that thus thou ventured to provoke me?

_Mal._ Perhaps I have: (How right the blockhead hits!) Yet more to rack thy heart, and break thy brain, Thy niece has been before the Guise's mistress.

_Gril._ Hell-hound, avaunt!

_Mal._ Forgive my honest meaning. [_Exit._

_Gril._ 'Tis hatched beneath, a plot upon mine honour; And thus he lays his baits to catch my soul:-- Ha! but the presence opens; who comes here? By heaven, my niece! led by Alphonso Corso! Ha, Malicorn! is't possible? truth from thee! 'Tis plain! and I, in justifying woman, Have done the devil wrong.

_Enter_ ALPHONSO CORSO, _leading in_ MARMOUTIERE.

_Alph._ Madam, the king (Please you to sit) will instantly attend you. [_Exit._

_Gril._ Death, hell, and furies! ha! she comes to seek him!-- O prostitute!--and, on her prodigal flesh, She has lavished all the diamonds of the Guise, To set her off, and sell her to the king.

_Mar._ O heavens! did ever virgin yet attempt An enterprise like mine? I, that resolved Never to leave those dear delightful shades, But act the little part that nature gave me, On the green carpets of some guiltless grove, And having finished it, forsake the world; Unless sometimes my heart might entertain Some small remembrance of the taking Guise: But that far, far from any darkening thought, To cloud my honour, or eclipse my virtue.

_Gril._ Thou liest! and if thou hadst not glanced aside, And spied me coming, I had had it all.

_Mar._ By heaven! by all that's good--

_Gril._ Thou hast lost thy honour. Give me this hand, this hand by which I caught thee From the bold ruffian in the massacre, That would have stained thy almost infant honour, With lust, and blood;--dost thou remember it?

_Mar._ I do, and bless the godlike arm, that saved me.

_Gril._ 'Tis false! thou hast forgot my generous action; And now thou laugh'st, to think how thou hast cheated, For all his kindness, this old grisled fool.

_Mar._ Forbid it heaven!

_Gril._ But oh, that thou hadst died Ten thousand deaths, ere blasted Grillon's glory; Grillon, that saved thee from a barbarous world. Where thou hadst starved, or sold thyself for bread; Took thee into his bosom, fostered thee As his own soul, and laid thee in his heart-strings; And now, for all my cares, to serve me thus! O 'tis too much, ye powers! double confusion On all my wars; and oh,--out, shame upon thee! It wrings the tears from Grillon's iron heart, And melts me to a babe.

_Mar._ Sir! father! hear me! I come to court, to save the life of Guise.

_Gril._ And prostitute thy honour to the king.

_Mar._ I have looked, perhaps, too nicely for my sex, Into the dark affairs of fatal state; And, to advance this dangerous inquisition, I listened to the love of daring Guise.

_Gril._ By arms, by honesty, I swear thou lovest him!

_Mar._ By heaven, that gave those arms success, I swear I do not, as you think! but take it all. I have heard the Guise, not with an angel's temper, Something beyond the tenderness of pity, And yet, not love. Now, by the powers that framed me, this is all! Nor should the world have wrought this close confession, But to rebate your jealousy of honour.

_Gril._ I know not what to say, nor what to think; There's heaven still in thy voice, but that's a sign Virtue's departing; for thy better angel Still makes the woman's tongue his rising ground, Wags there a while, and takes his flight for ever.

_Mar._ You must not go.

_Gril._ Though I have reason, plain As day, to judge thee false, I think thee true: By heaven, methinks I see a glory round thee! There's something says, thou wilt not lose thy honour:-- Death and the devil! that's my own honesty; My foolish open nature, that would have All like myself;--but off; I'll hence and curse thee!

_Mar._ O, stay!

_Gril._ I will not. _Mar._ Hark! the king's coming. Let me conjure you, for your own soul's quiet, And for the everlasting rest of mine, Stir not, till you have heard my heart's design.

_Gril._ Angel, or devil, I will.--Nay, at this rate, She'll make me shortly bring him to her bed.-- Bawd for him? no, he shall make me run my head Into a cannon, when 'tis firing, first; That's honourable sport. But I'll retire, And if she plays me false, here's that shall mend her. [_Touching his Dagger, exit._ MARMOUTIERE _sits. Song and Dance._

_Enter the King._

_King._ After the breathing of a love-sick heart Upon your hand, once more,--nay twice,--forgive me.

_Mar._ I discompose you, sir.

_King._ Thou dost, by heaven; But with such charming pleasure, I love, and tremble, as at angels' view.

_Mar._ Love me, my lord?

_King._ Who should be loved, but you? So loved, that even my crown, and self are vile, While you are by. Try me upon despair; My kingdom at the stake, ambition starved, Revenge forgot, and all great appetites That whet uncommon spirits to aspire, So once a day I may have leave-- Nay, madam, then you fear me.

_Mar._ Fear you, sir! what is there dreadful in you? You've all the graces that can crown mankind; Yet wear them so, as if you did not know them; So stainless, fearless, free in all your actions, As if heaven lent you to the world to pattern.

_King._ Madam, I find you are no petitioner; My people would not treat me in this sort, Though 'twere to gain a part of their design; But to the Guise they deal their faithless praise As fast, as you your flattery to me; Though for what end I cannot guess, except You come, like them, to mock at my misfortunes.

_Mar._ Forgive you, heaven, that thought! No, mighty monarch, The love of all the good, and wonder of the great; I swear, by heaven, my heart adores, and loves you.

_King._ O madam, rise.

_Mar._ Nay, were you, sir, unthroned By this seditious rout that dare despise you, Blast all my days, ye powers! torment my nights; Nay, let the misery invade my sex, That could not for the royal cause, like me, Throw all their luxury before your feet, And follow you, like pilgrims, through the world.

_Gril._ Sound wind and limb! 'fore God, a gallant girl! [_Aside._

_King._ What shall I answer to thee, O thou balm To heal a broken, yet a kingly heart! For, so I swear I will be to my last. Come to my arms, and be thy Harry's angel, Shine through my cares, and make my crown sit easy.

_Mar._ O never, sir.

_King._ What said you, Marmoutiere? Why dost thou turn thy beauties into frowns?

_Mar._ You know, sir, 'tis impossible; no more.

_King._ No more?--and with that stern resolved behaviour? By heaven! were I a dying, and the priest Should urge my last confession, I'd cry out, Oh Marmoutiere! and yet thou say'st,--No more!

_Mar._ 'Tis well, sir; I have lost my aim, farewell.

_King._ Come back! O stay, my life flows after you.

_Mar._ No, sir, I find I am a trouble to you; You will not hear my suit.

_King._ You cannot go, You shall not.--O your suit, I kneel to grant it; I beg you take whatever you demand.

_Mar._ Then, sir, thus low, or prostrate if you please, Let me intreat for Guise.

_King._ Ha, madam, what! For Guise; for Guise! that stubborn arrogant rebel, That laughs at proffered mercy, slights his pardon, Mocks royal grace, and plots upon my life? Ha! and do you protect him? then the world Is sworn to Henry's death: Does beauty too, And innocence itself conspire against me? Then let me tamely yield my glories up, Which once I vowed with my drawn sword to wear To my last drop of blood.--Come Guise, come cardinal, All you loved traitors, come--I strip to meet you; Sheathe all your daggers in curst Henry's heart.

_Mar._ This I expected; but when you have heard How far I would intreat your majesty, Perhaps you'll be more calm.

_King._ See, I am hushed; Speak then; how far, madam, would you command?

_Mar._ Not to proceed to last extremities, Before the wound is desperate. Think alone, For no man judges like your majesty: Take your own methods; all the heads of France Cannot so well advise you, as yourself. Therefore resume, my lord, your god-like temper, Yet do not bear more than a monarch should; Believe it, sir, the more your majesty Draws back your arm, the more of fate it carries.

_King._ Thou genius of my state, thou perfect model Of heaven itself, and abstract of the angels, Forgive the late disturbance of my soul! I'm clear by nature, as a rockless stream; But they dig through the gravel of my heart, And raise the mud of passions up to cloud me; Therefore let me conjure you, do not go; 'Tis said, the Guise will come in spite of me; Suppose it possible, and stay to advise me.

_Mar._ I will; but, on your royal word, no more.

_King._ I will be easy, To my last gasp, as your own virgin thoughts, And never dare to breathe my passion more; Yet you'll allow me now and then to sigh As we discourse, and court you with my eyes?

_Enter_ ALPHONSO.

Why do you wave your hand, and warn me hence? So looks the poor condemned, When justice beckons, there's no hope of pardon. Sternly, like you, the judge the victim eyes, And thus, like me, the wretch, despairing, dies. [_Exit with_ ALPHONSO.

_Enter_ GRILLON.

_Gril._ O rare, rare creature! By the power that made me, Wer't possible we could be damned again By some new Eve, such virtue might redeem us. Oh I could clasp thee, but that my arms are rough, Till all thy sweets were broke with my embraces, And kiss thy beauties to a dissolution!

_Mar._ Ah father, uncle, brother, all the kin, The precious blood that's left me in the world, Believe, dear sir, whate'er my actions seem, I will not lose my virtue, for a throne.

_Gril._ Why, I will carve thee out a throne myself; I'll hew down all the kings in Christendom, And seat thee on their necks, as high as heaven.

_Enter Abbot_ DELBENE.

_Abb._ Colonel, your ear.

_Mar._ By these whispering councils, My soul presages that the Guise is coming. If he dares come, were I a man, a king, I'd sacrifice him in the city's sight.-- O heavens! what was't I said? Were I a man, I know not that; but, as I am a virgin, If I would offer thee, too lovely Guise, It should be kneeling to the throne of mercy.-- Ha! then thou lovest, that thou art thus concerned. Down, rising mischief, down, or I will kill thee, Even in thy cause, and strangle new-born pity!-- Yet if he were not married!--ha, what then? His charms prevail;--no, let the rebel die. I faint beneath this strong oppression here; Reason and love rend my divided soul; Heaven be the judge, and still let virtue conquer. Love to his tune my jarring heart would bring, But reason over-winds, and cracks the string. [_Exit._

_Abb._ The king dispatches order upon order, With positive command to stop his coming. Yet there is notice given to the city; Besides, Belleure brought but a half account, How that the Guise replied, he would obey His majesty in all; yet, if he might Have leave to justify himself before him, He doubted not his cause.

_Gril._ The axe, the axe: Rebellion's pampered to a pleurisy, And it must bleed. [_Shout within._

_Abb._ Hark, what a shout was there! I'll to the king; it may be, 'tis reported On purpose thus. Let there be truth or lies In this mad fame, I'll bring you instant word. [_Exit Abbot._

_Manet_ GRILLON: _Enter_ GUISE, CARDINAL, MAYENNE, MALICORN, _Attendants, &c. Shouts again._

_Gril._ Death, and thou devil Malicorn, is that Thy master?

_Gui._ Yes, Grillon, 'tis the Guise; One, that would court you for a friend.

_Gril._ A friend! Traitor thou mean'st, and so I bid thee welcome; But since thou art so insolent, thy blood Be on thy head, and fall by me unpitied. [_Exit._

_Gui._ The bruises of his loyalty have crazed him. [_Shouts louder._

_Spirit within sings._

_Malicorn, Malicorn, Malicorn, ho! If the Guise resolves to go, I charge, I warn thee let him know, Perhaps his head may lie too low._

_Gui._ Why, Malicorn.

_Mal._ [_Starting._] Sir, do not see the king.

_Gui._ I will.

_Mal._ 'Tis dangerous.

_Gui._ Therefore I will see him, And so report my danger to the people. Halt--to your judgment.--[MALICORN _makes signs of Assassination._] Let him, if he dare.-- But more, more, more;--why, Malicorn!--again? I thought a look, with us, had been a language; I'll talk my mind on any point but this By glances;--ha! not yet? thou mak'st me blush At thy delay; why, man, 'tis more than life, Ambition, or a crown[12].

_Mal._ What, Marmoutiere?

_Gui._ Ay, there a general's heart beat like a drum! Quick, quick! my reins, my back, and head and breast Ache, as I'd been a horse-back forty hours.

_Mal._ She has seen the king.

_Gui._ I thought she might. A trick upon me; well.

_Mal._ Passion o' both sides.

_Gui._ His, thou meanest.

_Mal._ On hers. Down on her knees.

_Gui._ And up again; no matter.

_Mal._ Now all in tears, now smiling, sad at parting.

_Gui._ Dissembled, for she told me this before; 'Twas all put on, that I might hear and rave.

_Mal._ And so, to make sure work on't, by consent Of Grillon, who is made their bawd,--

_Gui._ Away!

_Mal._ She's lodged at court.

_Gui._ 'Tis false, they do belie her.

_Mal._ But, sir, I saw the apartment.

_Gui._ What, at court?

_Mal._ At court, and near the king; 'tis true, by heaven: I never play'd you foul, why should you doubt me?

_Gui._ I would thou hadst, ere thus unmanned my heart! Blood, battles, fire, and death! I run, I run! With this last blow he drives me like a coward; Nay, let me never win a field again, If, with the thought of these irregular vapours, The blood ha'nt burst my lips.

_Card._ Peace, brother.

_Gui._ By heaven, I took thee for my soul's physician, And dost thou vomit me with this loathed peace? 'Tis contradiction: no, my peaceful brother, I'll meet him now, though fire-armed cherubins Should cross my way. O jealousy of love! Greater than fame! thou eldest of the passions, Or rather all in one, I here invoke thee, Where'er thou'rt throned in air, in earth, or hell, Wing me to my revenge, to blood, and ruin!

_Card._ Have you no temper?

_Gui._ Pray, sir, give me leave. A moment's thought;--ha, but I sweat and tremble, My brain runs this and that way; it will not fix On aught but vengeance.--Malicorn, call the people. [_Shouts within._ But hark, they shout again: I'll on and meet them; Nay, head them to his palace, as my guards. Yet more, on such exalted causes borne, I'll wait him in his cabinet alone, And look him pale; while in his courts without, The people shout him dead with their alarms, And make his mistress tremble in his arms. [_Exeunt._