the Guise has beauties,
But they are set in night, and foul design:
He was my friend when young, and might be still.

_Ab._ Marked you his hollow accents at the parting?

_Qu. M._ Graves in his smiles.

_King._ Death in his bloodless hands.--
O Marmoutiere! now I will haste to meet thee:
The face of beauty, on this rising horror,
Looks like the midnight moon upon a murder;
It gilds the dark design that stays for fate,
And drives the shades, that thicken, from the state. [_Exuent._

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,