ACT II.  SCENE I.

  Enter Queen-Mother, Abbot DELBENE, and POLIN.

Qu.  M. Pray, mark the form of the conspiracy: 
Guise gives it out, he journeys to Champaigne,
But lurks indeed at Lagny, hard by Paris,
Where every hour he hears and gives instructions. 
Mean time the Council of Sixteen assure him,
They have twenty thousand citizens in arms. 
Is it not so, Polin?

Pol. True, on my life;
And, if the king doubts the discovery,
Send me to the Bastile till all be proved.

Qu.  M. Call colonel Grillon; the king would speak with him.

Ab. Was ever age like this? [Exit POLIN.

Qu.  M. Polin is honest;
Beside, the whole proceeding is so like
The hair-brained rout, I guessed as much before. 
Know then, it is resolved to seize the king,
When next he goes in penitential weeds
Among the friars, without his usual guards;
Then, under shew of popular sedition,
For safety, shut him in a monastery,
And sacrifice his favourites to their rage.

Ab. When is this council to be held again?

Qu.  M. Immediately upon the duke’s departure.

Ab. Why sends not then the king sufficient guards, To seize the fiends, and hew them into pieces?

Qu.  M. ’Tis in appearance easy, but the effect
Most hazardous; for straight, upon the alarm,
The city would be sure to be in arms;
Therefore, to undertake, and not to compass,
Were to come off with ruin and dishonour. 
You know the Italian proverb—­Bisogna copriersi[6],—­
He, that will venture on a hornet’s nest,
Should arm his head, and buckler well his breast.

Ab. But wherefore seems the king so unresolved?

Qu.  M. I brought Polin, and made the demonstration;
Told him—­necessity cried out, to take
A resolution to preserve his life,
And look on Guise as a reclaimless rebel: 
But, through the natural sweetness of his temper,
And dangerous mercy, coldly he replied,—­
Madam I will consider what you say.

Ab. Yet after all, could we but fix him—­

Qu.  M. Right,—­
The business were more firm for this delay;
For noblest natures, though they suffer long,
When once provoked, they turn the face to danger. 
But see, he comes, Alphonso Corso with him;
Let us withdraw, and when ’tis fit rejoin him. [Exeunt.

  Enter King, and ALPHONSO CORSO.

King. Alphonso Corso.

Alph. Sir.

King. I think thou lovest me.

Alph. More than my life.

King. That’s much; yet I believe thee. 
My mother has the judgment of the world,
And all things move by that; but, my Alphonso,
She has a cruel wit.