is made lieutenant-general;--
Why, then, to-morrow I no more am king.
'Tis time to push my slackened vengeance home,
To be a king, or not to be at all.
The vow that manacled my rage is loosed;
Even heaven is wearied with repeated crimes,
Till lightning flashes round, to guard the throne,
And the curbed thunder grumbles to be gone.

_Enter_ GRILLON _to him._

_Gril._ 'Tis just the appointed hour you bid me wait.

_King._ So just, as if thou wert inspired to come;
As if the guardian-angel of my throne,
Who had o'erslept himself so many years,
Just now was roused, and brought thee to my rescue.

_Gril._ I hear the Guise will be lieutenant-general.

_King._ And canst thou suffer it?

_Gril._ 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 spite of him; if you'll be a royalist
yourself, there are millions of honest men will fight for you; but if
you will not, there are few will hang for you.

_King._ No more: I am resolved.
The course of things can be with-held no longer
From breaking forth to their appointed end:
My vengeance, ripened in the womb of time,
Presses for birth, and longs to be disclosed.
Grillon, the Guise is doomed to sudden death:
The sword must end him:--has not thine an edge?

_Gril._ Yes, and a point too; I'll challenge him.

_King._ I bid thee kill him. [_Walking._

_Gril._ So I mean to do.

_King._ Without thy hazard.

_Gril._ Now I understand you; I should murder him:
I am your soldier, sir, but not your hangman.

_King._ Dost thou not hate him?

_Gril._ Yes.

_King._ Hast thou not said,
That he deserves it?

_Gril._ Yes; but how have I
Deserved to do a murder?

_King._ 'Tis no murder;
'Tis sovereign justice, urged from self-defence.

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

_King._ Go; thou art a coward.

_Gril._ You are my king.

_King._ Thou say'st, thou dar'st not kill him.

_Gril._ Were I a coward, I had been a villain,
And then I durst have done't.

_King._ Thou hast done worse, in thy long course of arms.
Hast thou ne'er killed a man?

_Gril._ Yes, when a man would have killed me.

_King._ Hast thou not plundered from the helpless poor?
Snatched from the sweating labourer