_Card._ What! do we talk
Of paring, clipping, and such tedious work,
Like those that hang their noses o'er a potion,
And qualm, and keck, and take it down by sips!

_Arch._ Best make advantage of this popular rage,
Let in the o'erwhelming tide on Harry's head;
In that promiscuous fury, who shall know,
Among a thousand swords, who killed the king?

_Mal._ O my dear lord, upon this only day
Depends the series of your following fate:
Think your good genius has assumed my shape,
In this prophetic doom.

_Gui._ Peace, croaking raven!--
I'll seize him first, then make him a led monarch;
I'll be declared lieutenant-general
Amidst the three estates, that represent
The glorious, full, majestic face of France,
Which, in his own despite, the king shall call:
So let him reign my tenant during life,
His brother of Navarre shut out for ever,
Branded with heresy, and barred from sway;
That, when Valois consumed in ashes lies,
The Phoenix race of Charlemain may rise. [_Exeunt._


SCENE V.--_The Louvre._