_Adm._ My lord, I marvel that th' aspiring Guise Dares once adventure, without the king's consent, To meddle or attempt such dangerous things. _Con._ My lord, you need not marvel at the Guise, For what he doth, the Pope will ratify, 40 In murder, mischief, or in tyranny. _Nav._ But he that sits and rules above the clouds Doth hear and see the prayers of the just, And will revenge the blood of innocents, That Guise hath slain by treason of his heart, And brought by murder to their timeless[349] ends. _Adm._ My lord, but did you mark the Cardinal, The Guise's brother, and the Duke Dumaine, How they did storm at these your nuptial rites, Because the house of Bourbon now comes in, 50 And joins your lineage to the crown of France? _Nav._ And that's the cause that Guise so frowns at us, And beats his brains to catch us in his trap, Which he hath pitched within his deadly toil. Come, my lords, let's go to the church, and pray That God may still defend the right of France, And make his Gospel flourish in this land. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _Enter_ GUISE.[350] _Guise._ If ever Hymen lour'd at marriage rites, And had his altars decked with dusky lights; If ever sun stained heaven with bloody clouds, And made it look with terror on the world; If ever day were turned to ugly night, And night made semblance of the hue of hell; This day, this hour, this fatal night, Shall fully show the fury of them all.-- Apothecary! _Enter_ Apothecary. _Apoth._ My lord? 10 _Guise._ Now shall I prove, and guerdon to the full, The love thou bear'st unto the house of Guise. Where are those perfumed gloves which [late] I sent To be poisoned? hast thou done them? speak; Will every savour breed a pang of death? _Apoth._ See where they be, my good lord; and he that smells But to them, dies. _Guise._ Then thou remainest resolute? _Apoth._ I am, my lord, in what your grace commands, Till death. _Guise._ Thanks, my good friend: I will requite thy love. Go, then, present them to the Queen Navarre; 20 For she is that huge blemish in our eye, That makes these upstart heresies in France: Be gone, my friend, present them to her straight. [_Exit_ Apothecary. Soldier! _Enter a_ Soldier. _Sold._ My lord? _Guise._ Now come thou forth and play thy tragic part: Stand in some window,[351] opening near the street, And when thou see'st the Admiral ride by, Discharge thy musket, and perform his death; And then I'll guerdon thee with store of crowns. 30