Messenger.

This paper, sire, is posted thro’ the town.

Hu. Eh, eh! what have we here? [Reads.

Citizens of Palermo, King Pedro is dead. God rest his soul! The office of Viceroy being vacant, the Parliament of townsmen, assembled in the church of San Lorenzo, have this day elected Manuel to be your viceroy, in place of Hugo. Death to Hugo! Long live the king!

Why, Manuel, what’s this parliament?

Man. I know No more than doth your excellence. But ’tis plain That they are orderers who put on a dress Of regular authority; they use The senatorial voice, and over all They have now usurped my name to have it thought That I have set their hatch.

[Shouts without of “Death to Hugo! The Despatches!”]

Ph. Here comes the parliament.

Hu. Now this is what I feared. Manuel, I pray you, Go to the balcony, you have their ear; Use then your credit.

Man. What, sire, shall I say?

Hu. Well, you should know.

Liv. (to Man.). Look, if they ask to hear The last despatches, gull them with some paper; Which while you show, you make as if therefrom You read the king’s not dead.

Ph. (to Liv.). Nay, Livio: The word is wanted for a troop of horse. My father never would have brooked this insult From such a mob.

Liv. Our soldiers are not idle. They laid hands yesterday upon the chief And head of all, one John Palicio. We have certain information that the rebels Cannot be kept together but by him. Hark! they are quiet now.

Hu. (to Man. returning). What is your charm To win such meek obedience?

Man. They’re gone, your excellence; But not from aught I said: for ere I spoke Some rumour reached them, and the skirt of the throng, That far beyond my hearing stood apart In scattered groups, broke hastily away: Then the next ranks shed off; and then the next Loosened and followed them: till the voice came To the very midst and huddle, where they pressed With upturned faces; then all heads went down, And with a cry they fled.

Hu. Whither?

Man. I think To the prison, my lord.

Enter a Soldier.

Hu. What now? give me thy matter.