_Cardinal, Archbishop,_ MALICORN, _and Attendants._

_Omn._ _Vive_ Guise!

_Gui._ [_Bowing, and bareheaded._]
I thank you, countrymen: the hand of heaven
In all our safeties has appeared this day.
Stand on your guard, and double every watch,
But stain your triumph with no Christian blood;
French we are all, and brothers of a land.

_Card._ What mean you, brother, by this godly talk,
Of sparing Christian blood? why, these are dogs;
Now, by the sword that cut off Malchus' ear,
Mere dogs, that neither can be saved nor damned.

_Arch._ Where have you learnt to spare inveterate foes?

_Gui._ You know the book.

_Arch._ And can expound it too:
But Christian faith was in the nonage then,
And Roman heathens lorded o'er the world.
What madness were it for the weak and few,
To fight against the many and the strong?
Grillon must die, so must the tyrant's guards,
Lest, gathering head again, they make more work.

_Mal._ My lord, the people must be fleshed in blood,
To teach them the true relish; dip them with you,