King. Give me thy hand; I love thee not the worse:  Make much of honour, ’tis a soldier’s conscience.  Thou shalt not do this act; thou art even too good; But keep my secret, for that’s conscience too.

Gril. When I disclose it, think I am a coward.

King. No more of that, I know thou art not one. 
Call Lognac hither straight, and St Malin;
Bid Larchant find some unsuspected means,
To keep guards doubled at the council-door,
That none pass in or out, but those I call: 
The rest I’ll think on further; so farewell.

Gril. Heaven bless your majesty!  Though I’ll not kill him for you, I’ll defend you when he’s killed:  For the honest part of the job let me alone[19]. [Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.—­SCENE opens, and discovers Men and Women at a Banquet,
MALICORN standing by.

Mal. This is the solemn annual feast I keep,
As this day twelve year, on this very hour,
I signed the contract for my soul with hell. 
I bartered it for honours, wealth, and pleasure,
Three things which mortal men do covet most;
And ’faith, I over-sold it to the fiend: 
What, one-and-twenty years, nine yet to come! 
How can a soul be worth so much to devils? 
O how I hug myself, to out-wit these fools of hell! 
And yet a sudden damp, I know not why,
Has seized my spirits, and, like a heavy weight,
Hangs on their active springs.  I want a song
To rouse me; my blood freezes.—­Music there.

A SONG BETWIXT A SHEPHERD AND SHEPHERDESS.

Shepherdess.

Tell me, Thyrsis, tell your anguish,
Why you sigh, and why you languish;
When the nymph whom you adore,
Grants the blessing
Of possessing,
What can love and I do more?

          Shepherd.

    Think it’s love beyond all measure,
    Makes me faint away with pleasure;
  Strength of cordial may destroy. 
      And the blessing
      Of possessing,
  Kills me with excess of joy.

          Shepherdess.

    Thyrsis, how can I believe you! 
    But confess, and I’ll forgive you;
  Men are false, and so are you,
      Never nature
      Framed a creature
  To enjoy, and yet be true.

          Shepherd.

    Mine’s a flame beyond expiring,
    Still possessing, still desiring,
  Fit for love’s imperial crown;
      Ever shining,
      And refining,
  Still the more ’tis melted down.

          Chorus together.

    Mine’s a flame beyond expiring. 
    Still possessing, still desiring,
  Fit for love’s imperial crown;
      Ever shining,
      And refining,
  Still the more ’tis melted down.

  After a Song and Dance, loud knocking at the Door,

  Enter a Servant.