k.--
Your eminence comes late.

_Enter two Cardinals, Counsellors, the Cardinal of_ GUISE,
_Arch-bishop of Lyons, last the_ GUISE.

_Gui._ Well, colonel, are we friends?

_Gril._ 'Faith, I think not.

_Gui._ Give me your hand.

_Gril._ No, for that gives a heart.

_Gui._ Yet we shall clasp in heaven.

_Gril._ By heaven, we shall not,
Unless it be with gripes.

_Gui._ True Grillon still.

_Larch._ My lord.

_Gui._ Ha! captain, you are well attended:
If I mistake not, sir, your number's doubled.

_Larch._ All these have served against the heretics;
And therefore beg your grace you would remember
Their wounds and lost arrears[21].

_Gui._ It shall be done.--
Again, my heart! there is a weight upon thee,
But I will sigh it off.--Captain, farewell.
[_Exeunt Cardinal,_ GUISE, _&c._

_Gril._ Shut the hall-door, and bar the castle-gates:
March, march there closer yet, captain, to the door. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--_The Council-hall._

_Gui._ I do not like myself to-day.

_Arch._ A qualm! he dares not.

_Card._ That's one man's thought; he dares, and that's another's.

_Enter_ GRILLON.

_Gui._ O Marmoutiere! ha, never see thee more?
Peace, my tumultuous heart! why jolt my spirits
In this unequal circling of my blood?
I'll stand it while I may. O mighty nature!
Why this alarm? why dost thou call me on
To fight, yet rob my limbs of all their use? [_Swoons._

_Card._ Ha! he's fallen, chafe him. He comes again.

_Gui._ I beg your pardons; vapours, no more.

_Gril._ The effect
Of last night's lechery with some working whore[22].

_Enter_ REVOL.

_Rev._ My lord of Guise, the king would speak with you.

_Gui._ O cardinal, O Lyons!--but no more;
Yes, one word more: thou hast a privilege [_To the Cardinal._
To speak with a recluse; O therefore tell her,
If never thou behold'st me breathe again,
Tell her I sighed it last.--O Marmoutiere! [_Exit bowing._

_Card._ You will have all things your own way, my lord.
By heaven, I have strange horror on my soul.

_Arch._ I say again, that Henry dares not do it.

_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!

_Arch._ I hear your