us scuffle, till the noise of Guise's fall announced its
termination. The cardinal of Guise, and the archbishop of Lyons
were also within hearing, and were arrested, while they were
endeavouring to call their attendants to Guise's assistance. The
cardinal was next day murdered by Da Gast, to whose custody he had
been commuted.]

24. Literally from Davila: _"Ora comparse il Re, le dimanda egli
primo, come ella stava; al quale avendo risposto che si sentisse
meglio, egli ripiglio: Ancor io mi trovo ora molto meglio, perche
questa mattina son fatto Re di Francia avendo fatto morire il Re di
Parigi. Alle quali parole, replico la Reina: Voi avete fatto morire
il Duca di Guisa, ma Dio voglia che non siate ora fatto Re da
niente; avete tagliato bene, non so, se cucirete cosi bene. Avete
voi preveduti i mali, che sono per succedere? Provvedetevi
diligentemente. Due cose sono necessarie, prestezza e
risoluzione."_ Lib. ix.]

EPILOGUE.

WRITTEN BY MR DRYDEN[1].

SPOKEN BY MRS COOK.

Much time and trouble this poor play has cost;
And, 'faith, I doubted once the cause was lost.
Yet no one man was meant, nor great, nor small;
Our poets, like frank gamesters, threw at all.
They took no single aim:--
But, like bold boys, true to their prince, and hearty,
Huzza'd, and fired broadsides at the whole party.
Duels are crimes; but, when the cause is right,
In battle every man is bound to fight.
For what should hinder me to sell my skin, }
Dear as I could, if once my hand were in? }
_Se defendendo_ never was a sin. }
'Tis a fine world, my masters! right or wrong,
The Whigs must talk, and Tories hold their tongue.
They must do all they can,
But we, forsooth, must bear a christian mind;
And fight, like boys, with one hand tied behind;
Nay, and when one boy's down, 'twere wond'rous wise,
To cry,--box fair, and give him time to rise.
When fortune favours, none but fools will dally; }
Would any of you sparks, if Nan, or Mally, }
Tip you the inviting wink, stand, shall I, shall I? }
A Trimmer cried, (that heard me tell this story)
Fie, mistress Cook, 'faith you're too rank a Tory!
Wish not Whigs hanged, but pity their hard cases;
You women love to see men make wry faces.--
Pray, sir, said I, don't think me suc