The heavens look gaudily upon your greatness,
And the crowned moments court you as they fly.
Brisac and fierce Aumale have pent the Swiss,
And folded them like sheep in holy ground;
Where now, with ordered pikes, and colours furled,
They wait the word that dooms them all to die:
Come forth, and bless the triumph of the day.

_Gui._ So slight a victory required not me:
I but sat still, and nodded, like a god,
My world into creation; now 'tis time
To walk abroad, and carelessly survey
How the dull matter does the form obey. [_Exit with_ MALICORN.


SCENE IV.

_Enter Citizens, and_ MELANAX, _in his fanatic Habit, at the head
them._

_Mel._ Hold, hold, a little, fellow citizens; and you, gentlemen of
the rabble, a word of godly exhortation to strengthen your hands, ere
you give the onset.

_1 Cit._ Is this a time to make sermons? I would not hear the devil
now, though he should come in God's name, to preach peace to us.

_2 Cit._ Look you, gentlemen, sermons are not to be despised; we have
all profited by godly sermons that promote sedition: let the precious
man hold forth.