_King._ Hark! there rung a peal
Like thunder: see, Alphonso, what's the cause.

_Enter_ GRILLON.

_Gril._ My lord, the Guise is come.

_King._ Is't possible! ha, Grillon, said'st thou, come?

_Gril._ Why droops the royal majesty? O sir!

_King._ O villain, slave, wert thou my late-born heir,
Given me by heaven, even when I lay a-dying--
But peace, thou festering thought, and hide thy wound;--
Where is he?

_Gril._ With her majesty, your mother;
She has taken chair, and he walks bowing by her,
With thirty thousand rebels at his heels.

_King._ What's to be done? No pall upon my spirit;
But he that loves me best, and dares the most
On this nice point of empire, let him speak.

_Alph._ I would advise you, sir, to call him in,
And kill him instantly upon the spot.

_Abb._ I like Alphonso's counsel, short, sure work;
Cut off the head, and let the body walk.