THE PEOPLE.
Fabiani! Death to Fabiani!
[They grow louder, and come nearer.
THE QUEEN.
Death to Fabiani! Do you hear that howling populace, my lords? You must throw a man out to them. The rabble is hungry!
SIMON RENARD.
What does your Majesty command?
THE QUEEN.
By heaven, my lords! it seems to me you all stand trembling around me! Upon my soul! must a woman show you your duty as noblemen? To horse, my lords, to horse! Are you afraid of the rabble? Are swords afraid of clubs?
SIMON RENARD.