his food?

_Gril._ Sir, I have eaten and drank in my own defence, when I was
hungry and thirsty; I have plundered, when you have not paid me; I
have been content with a farmer's daughter, when a better whore was
not to be had. As for cutting off a traitor, I'll execute him lawfully
in my own function, when I meet him in the field; but for your
chamber-practice, that's not my talent.

_King._ Is my revenge unjust, or tyrannous?
Heaven knows I love not blood.

_Gril._ No, for your mercy is your only vice. You may dispatch a rebel
lawfully, but the mischief is, that rebel has given me my life at the
barricadoes, and, till I have returned his bribe, I am not upon even
terms with him.

_King._ Give me thy hand; I love thee not the worse:
Make much of honour, 'tis a soldier's conscience.
Thou shalt not do this act; thou art even too good;
But keep my secret, for that's conscience too.

_Gril._ When I disclose it, think I am a coward.

_King._ No more of that, I know thou art not one.
Call Lognac hither straight, and St Malin;
Bid Larchant find some unsuspected means,
To keep guards doubled at the council-door,
That none pass in or out, but those I call:
The rest I'll think on further; so farewell.

_Gril._ Heaven bless your majesty! Though I'll not kill him for you,
I'll defend you when he's killed: For the honest part of the job let
me alone[19]. [_Exeunt severally._

SCENE II.--SCENE _opens, and discovers Men and Women at a Banquet,_
MALICORN _standing by._

_Mal._ This is the solemn annual feast I keep,
As this day twelve year, on this very hour,
I signed the contract for my soul with hell.
I bartered it for honours, wealth, and pleasure,
Three things which mortal men do covet most;
And 'faith, I over-sold it to the fiend:
What, one-and-twenty years, nine yet to come!
How can a soul be worth so much to devils?
O how I hug myself, to out-wit these fools of hell!
And yet a sudden damp, I know not why,
Has seized my spirits, and, like a heavy weight,
Hangs on their active springs. I want a song
To rouse me; my blood freezes.--Music there.

A SONG BETWIXT A SHEPHERD AND SHEPHERDESS.

Shepherdess.

_Tell me, Thyrsis, tell your anguish,
Why you sigh, and why you languish;
When the nymph whom you adore,
Grants the blessing
Of possessing,
What can love and I do more?_

Shepherd.

_Think it's love beyond