_Enter Queen Mother, and Abbot_ DELBENE.

_Qu. M._ Good-even, sir; 'tis just the time you ordered
To wait on your decrees.

_King._ Oh, madam!

_Qu. M._ Sir?

_King._ Oh mother,--but I cannot make it way;--
Chaos and shades,--'tis huddled up in night.

_Qu. M._ Speak then, for speech is morning to the mind;
It spreads the beauteous images abroad,
Which else lie furled and clouded in the soul.

_King._ You would embark me in a sea of blood.

_Qu. M._ You see the plot directly on your person;
But give it o'er, I did but state the case.
Take Guise into your heart, and drive your friends;
Let knaves in shops prescribe you how to sway,
And, when they read your acts with their vile breath,
Proclaim aloud, they like not this or that;
Then in a drove come lowing to the Louvre,
And cry,--they'll have it mended, that they will,
Or you shall be no king.

_King._ 'Tis true, the people
Ne'er know a mean, when once they get the power;