And roared,--they were undone.

_Gril._ O, 'tis like them;
'Tis like their mongrel souls: flesh them with fortune,
And they will worry royalty to death;
But if some crabbed virtue turn and pinch them,
Mark me, they'll run, and yelp, and clap their tails,
Like curs, betwixt their legs, and howl for mercy.

_Pol._ But Malicorn, sagacious on the point,
Cried,--Call the sheriffs, and bid them arm their bands;
Add yet to this, to raise you above hope,
The Guise, my master, will be here to-day.--
For on bare guess of what has been revealed,
He winged a messenger to give him notice;
Yet, spite of all this factor of the fiends
Could urge, they slunk their heads, like hinds in storms.
But see, they come.

_Enter Sheriffs, with the Populace._

_Gril._ Away, I'll have amongst them;
Fly to the king, warn him of Guise's coming,
That he may strait despatch his strict commands
To stop him. [_Exit_ POLIN.

_1 Sher._ Nay, this is colonel Grillon,
The blunderbuss o'the court; away, away,
He carries ammunition in his face.