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, 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 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. Gril. Good rats, my precious vermin. You moving dirt, you rank stark muck o'the world, At your club-feast, and after stabbed it through,-† 1 Sher. Mercy, good colonel. Gril. Run with your nose to earth; Run, blood-hound, run, and scent out royal murder. + This alludes to the defacing the Duke of York's picture at Guildhall; an outrage stigmatized in the epilogue to "Venice Preserved," where Otway says, Nothing shall daunt his pen, when truth does call; The rebel tribe, of which that vérmin's one, As they before had massacred his name, Durst their base fears but look him in the face, Of that great Martyr's, whose rich blood they shed. The picture-mangler is explained by a marginal note to be; "the rascal, that cut the Duke of York's picture." The same circumstance is mentioned in "Musa Præfica, or the London Poem, or a humble Oblation on the sacred Tomb of our late gracious Monarch King Charles II., of ever blessed and eternal Me 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 adder' [Exeunt Sheriff's and People. Enter MALICORN. Ha! but here comes a fiend, that soars above; 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. mory; by a Loyal Apprentice of the honourable City of London." The writer mentions the Duke of York as loaded with indignity, Already martyred in effigy. O blast the arm, that dared that impious blow! Who God's anointed dared to overthrow! His head had suffered, when they pierced his feet. Explained to allude to the Duke of York's "picture in Guildhall, cut from the legs downward undiscovered." In another tory ballad, we have this stanza in the character of a fanatic: We'll smite the idol in Guildhall, And then, as we are wont, We'll cry it was a Popish plot, And swear these rogues have done't. 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, Gril. Wert thou definite rogue, I'faith, I think, that I should give thee hearing; Admits no patience. Mal Your niece is come to court, And yields her honour to our Henry's bed. Mal. So: why this I looked for; [Strikes him. 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, Mal. 'Tis false; I dare, like you, but cannot act; 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; Should bar me from forsaking this bad world, Mal. Ha! 'tis well, and now I am revenged. 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, Mal. Forgive my honest meaning. [Exit. Grit. 'Tis hatched beneath, a plot upon mine honour; And thus he lays his baits to catch my soul:- Enter ALPHONSO CORSO, leading in MARMOUTIERE. (Please you to sit) will instantly attend you. [Erit. Gril. Death, hell, and furies! ha! she comes to seek him!- O prostitute!-and, on her prodigal flesh, |