Act 4 — SCENE II.—A Night Scene.

Enter Malicorn solus.

Mal. Thus far the cause of God; but God's or devil's,— I mean my master's cause, and mine,—succeed, What shall the Guise do next?[A flash of lightning.

Enter the spirit Melanax.

Mel. First seize the king, and after murder him.

Mal. Officious fiend, thou comest uncalled to-night.

Mel. Always uncalled, and still at hand for mischief.

Mal. But why in this fanatic habit, devil? Thou look'st like one that preaches to the crowd; Gospel is in thy face, and outward garb, 074 And treason on thy tongue.

Mel. Thou hast me right: Ten thousand devils more are in this habit; Saintship and zeal are still our best disguise: We mix unknown with the hot thoughtless crowd, And quoting scriptures, (which too well we know,) With impious glosses ban the holy text, And make it speak rebellion, schism, and murder; So turn the arms of heaven against itself.

Mal. What makes the curate of St. Eustace here?

Mel. Thou art mistaken, master; 'tis not he, But 'tis a zealous, godly, canting devil, Who has assumed the churchman's lucky shape, To talk the crowd to madness and rebellion.

Mal. O true enthusiastic devil, true,— (For lying is thy nature, even to me,) Did'st thou not tell me, if my lord, the Guise, Entered the court, his head should then lie low? That was a lie; he went, and is returned.

Mel. 'Tis false; I said, perhaps it should lie low; And, but I chilled the blood in Henry's veins, And crammed a thousand ghastly, frightful thoughts, Nay, thrust them foremost in his labouring brain, Even so it would have been.

Mal. Thou hast deserved me, And I am thine, dear devil: what do we next?

Mel. I said, first seize the king.

Mal. Suppose it done: He's clapt within a convent, shorn a saint, My master mounts the throne.

Mel. Not so fast, Malicorn; Thy master mounts not, till the king be slain.

Mal. Not when deposed?

Mel. He cannot be deposed: He may be killed, a violent fate attends him; But at his birth there shone a regal star.

Mal. My master had a stronger.

075 Mel. No, not a stronger, but more popular. Their births were full opposed, the Guise now strongest But if the ill influence pass o'er Harry's head, As in a year it will, France ne'er shall boast A greater king than he; now cut him off, While yet his stars are weak.

Mal. Thou talk'st of stars: Can'st thou not see more deep into events, And by a surer way?

Mel. No, Malicorn; The ways of heaven are broken since our fall, Gulph beyond gulph, and never to be shot. Once we could read our mighty Maker's mind, As in a crystal mirror, see the ideas Of things that always are, as he is always; Now, shut below in this dark sphere, By second causes dimly we may guess, And peep far off on heaven's revolving orbs, Which cast obscure reflections from the throne.

Mal. Then tell me thy surmises of the future.

Mel. I took the revolution of the year, Just when the Sun was entering in the Ham: The ascending Scorpion poisoned all the sky, A sign of deep deceit and treachery. Full on his cusp his angry master sate, Conjoined with Saturn, baleful both to man: Of secret slaughters, empires overturned, Strife, blood, and massacres, expect to hear, And all the events of an ill-omened year.

Mal. Then flourish hell, and mighty mischief reign! Mischief, to some, to others must be good. But hark! for now, though 'tis the dead of night, When silence broods upon our darkened world, Methinks I hear a murmuring hollow sound, Like the deaf chimes of bells in steeples touched.

Mel. It is truly guessed; 076 But know, 'tis from no nightly sexton's hand. There's not a damned ghost, nor hell-born fiend, That can from limbo 'scape, but hither flies; With leathern wings they beat the dusky skies, To sacred churches all in swarms repair; Some crowd the spires, but most the hallowed bells, And softly toll for souls departing knells: Each chime, thou hear'st, a future death foretells, Now there they perch to have them in their eyes, 'Till all go loaded to the nether skies[15]. } } }

Mal. To-morrow then.

Mel. To-morrow let it be; Or thou deceiv'st those hungry, gaping fiends, And Beelzebub will rage.

Mal. Why Beelzebub? hast thou not often said, That Lucifer's your king?

Mel. I told thee true; But Lucifer, as he who foremost fell, So now lies lowest in the abyss of hell, Chained till the dreadful doom; in place of whom Sits Beelzebub, vicegerent of the damned, Who, listening downward, hears his roaring lord, 077 And executes his purpose.—But no more[16]. The morning creeps behind yon eastern hill, And now the guard is mine, to drive the elves, And foolish fairies, from their moonlight play, And lash the laggers from the sight of day.[Descends. [Exit Mal.