Buss. 'Tis a plain case; the king's included in the punishment, in case he rebel against the people. Pol. But how can he rebel? Cur. I'll make it out: Rebellion is an insurrection against the government; but they that have the power are actually the government; therefore, if the people have the power, the rebellion is in the king. Buss. A most convincing argument for faction. Cur. For arming, if you please, but not for faction; For still the faction is the fewest number: So what they call the lawful government, Is now the faction; for the most are ours. Pol. Since we are proved to be above the king, I would gladly understand whom we are to obey, or, whether we are to be all kings together? Cur. Are you a member of the League, and ask that question? There's an article, that, I may say, is as necessary as any in the creed; namely, that we, the said associates, are sworn to yield ready obedience, and faithful service, to that head which shall be deputed. Buss. 'Tis most manifest, that, by virtue of our oath, we are all subjects to the Duke of Guise. The king's an officer that has betrayed his trust; and therefore we have turned him out of service. Omn. Agreed, agreed. Enter the Duke of GUISE, Cardinal of GUISE, AUMALE: Torches before them. The Duke takes the Chair. Buss. Your highness enters in a lucky hour; The unanimous vote you heard, confirms your choice, As head of Paris and the Holy League. Card. I say amen to that. Pol. You are our champion, buckler of our faith. Card. The king, like Saul, is heaven's repented choice; You his anointed one, on better thought. Gui. I'm what you please to call me; any thing, Lieutenant-general, chief, or constable, Good decent names, that only mean-your slave. Buss. You chased the Germans hence, exiled Navarre, And rescued France from heretics and strangers. Turned out, like laboured oxen after harvest, Buss. Our charters will go next; because we sheriff's Permit no justice to be done on those The court calls rebels, but we call them saints. Pol. And mine. Omn. And all. Card. Heaven is itself head of the Holy League; And all the saints are cov'nanters and Guisards. Gui. What say you, curate? Cur. I hope well, my lord. Card. That is, he hopes you mean to make him abbot, And he deserves your care of his preferment; For all his prayers are curses on the government, And all his sermons libels on the king; In short, a pious, hearty, factious priest. Gui. All that are here, my friends, shall share my fortunes: There's spoil, preferments, wealth enough in France; 'Tis but deserve, and have. The Spanish king Consigns me fifty thousand crowns a-week To raise, and to foment a civil war. Sounds treason in the letter of the law, Cur. Heaven's good; the cause is good; the money's good; No matter whence it comes. Buss. Our city-bands are twenty thousand strong, Well-disciplined, well-armed, well-seasoned traitors, Thick-rinded heads, that leave no room for kernel; Shop-consciences, of proof against an oath, Preached up, and ready tined for a rebellion*. Gui. Why then the noble plot is fit for birth; And labouring France cries out for midwife hands. We missed surprising of the king at Blois, When last the states were held: 'twas oversight; Beware we make not such another blot. Card. This holy time of Lent we have him sure; He goes unguarded, mixed with whipping friars. In that procession, he's more fit for heaven: What hinders us to seize the royal penitent, And close him in a cloister? Cur. Or dispatch him; I love to make all sure. Gui. No; guard him safe ; Thin diet will do well; 'twill starve him into reason, 'Till he exclude his brother of Navarre, And graft succession on a worthier choice. Buss. I know that Conty; The Council of Sixteen certainly offered to place twenty thousand disciplined citizens of Paris at the devotion of the Duke of Guise; and here the intended parallel came close: for Shaftesbury used to boast, that he could raise the like number of brisk boys in the city of London, by merely holding up his finger. A snivelling, conscientious, loyal rogue; Card. Give out he's arbitrary, a Navarist, Cur. I'll swear him guilty. I swallow oaths as easy as snap-dragon, Gui. Then, Bussy, beit your care to admit my troops, At Port St Honore: [Rises.] Night wears apace, And day-light must not peep on dark designs. I will myself to court, pay formal duty, Take leave, and to my government retire; Impatient to be soon recalled, to see The king imprisoned, and the nation free*. SCENE II. Enter MALICORN solus. [Exeunt. Mal. Each dismal minute, when I call to mind The promise, that I made the Prince of Hell, In one-and-twenty years to be his slave, Of which near twelve are gone, my soul runs back, The wards of reason roll into their spring. During the cabals of the Council of Sixteen, the Duke of Aumale approached Paris with five hundred veteran horse, levied in the disaffected province of Picardy. Jean Conti, one of the sheriffs (Echevins) of Paris, was tampered with to admit them by St Martin's gate; but as he refused, the leaguers stigmatised him as a heretic and favourer of Navarre. Another of these officers consented to open to Aumale the gate of St Denis, of which the keys were intrusted to him. The conspirators had determined, as is here expressed, to seize the person of the king, when he should attend the procession of the Flagellants, as he was wont to do in time of Lent. But he was apprised of their purpose by Poltrot, one of their number, and used the pretext of indisposition to excuse his absence from the penitential procession. Davila, lib. viii. O horrid thought! but one-and-twenty years, A Devil rises. Mal. What counsel does the fate of Guise require? He comes; bid him not stand on altar-vows, SCENE III. Enter the Duke of GUISE, and Duke of MAYENNE. To your profest and most inveterate foes; That never pardons. Gui. Poison on her name! Take my hand on't, that cormorant dowager In her lap. I was at Bayonne with her, |