Be careful, gentlemen! This minister Is mighty. A great mower, he! He makes Great seas of blood, and then he covers them With his red cloak and nothing more is said. [_Silence._ GASSÉ. Good faith! ROCHEBARON. I'm blessed if I shall stir! BRICHANTEAU. Beside This jester Pluto was a funny man! [_A crowd of people enter from the streets and houses, and spread over the Square. In the center appears The Town-Crier on horseback, with four Town-servants in livery, one of whom blows the trumpet, while the other beats the drum._ GASSÉ. What are these people doing? Ah, the crier! Well, paternosters are in order now! BRICHANTEAU (_to a juggler with a monkey on his back, who has joined the crowd_). Which one of you shows off the other, friend? MONTPESAT (_to Rochebaron_). I hope our packs of cards are still complete. [_Indicating the four Servants in livery._ It looks as though these knaves were stolen thence. TOWN-CRIER (_in a nasal tone of voice_). Peace, citizens! BRICHANTEAU (_low to Gassé_). He has a wicked look. His voice wears out his nose more than his mouth! TOWN-CRIER. "Ordinance: Louis, by the Grace of God--" BOUCHAVANNES (_low to Brichanteau_). Cloak _fleur-de-lis_ concealing Richelieu! L'ANGELY. Attention! TOWN-CRIER (_continuing_). "King of France and of Navarre--" BRICHANTEAU (_low to Bouchavannes_). A fine name, which no minister e'er hoards. TOWN-CRIER (_continuing_). "Know all men by these presents, we greet you! [_He salutes assembly._ Having considered that all kings desired And have tried to abolish dueling, But yet, in spite of edicts signed by them, The evil has increased in great degree, We ordain and decree that from this time All duelists who rob us of our subjects, Whether but one of them or both survive, Be brought for punishment unto our court, And commoner or noble shall be hanged. In order to give force to this edict We here renounce our right of pardon for This crime. It is our gracious pleasure."-- Signed, Louis; and lower--Richelieu. [_Indignation among the nobles._ BRICHANTEAU. What's this? We are to hang up like Barabbas! BOUCHAVANNES. We? Tell me the name of any place which holds A rope by which to hang a nobleman! TOWN-CRIER (_continuing_). "We, provost, that all men may know these facts, Command this edict to be hung up on The Square." [_The two Servants attach a great placard to an iron gallows protruding from the wall on the right._ GASSÉ. 'Tis the edict they ought to hang! Well done! BOUCHAVANNES (_shaking his head_). Yes, Count; while waiting for the head Which shall defy it. [_The Town-Crier exits; the crowd retires. Saverny enters. It begins to grow dark._ SCENE II _The same._ Marquis de Saverny BRICHANTEAU (_going to Saverny_).