_Gui._ O rise, thou image of the deity! You shall prevail, I will do any thing: You've broke the very gall of my ambition, And all my powers now float in peace again. Be satisfied that I will see the king, Kneel to him, ere I journey to Champaigne, And beg a kind farewell. _Mar._ No, no, my lord; I see through that; you but withdraw a while, To muster all the forces that you can, And then rejoin the Council of Sixteen. You must not go. _Gui._ All the heads of the League Expect me, and I have engaged my honour. _Mar._ Would all those heads were off, so yours were saved! Once more, O Guise, the weeping Marmoutiere Entreats you, do not go. _Gui._ Is't possible That Guise should say, in this he must refuse you! _Mar._ Go then, my lord. I late received a letter From one at court, who tells me, the king loves me: Read it,--there is no more than what you hear. I've jewels offered too,--perhaps may take them; And if you go from Paris, I'll to court. _Gui._ But, madam, I have often heard you say, You loved not courts. _Mar._ Perhaps I've changed my mind: Nothing as yet could draw me, but a king; And such a king,--so good, so just, so great, That, at his birth, the heavenly council paused, And then, at last, cried out,--This is a man. _Gui._ Come, 'tis but counterfeit; you dare not go. _Mar._ Go to your government, and try. _Gui._ I will. _Mar._ Then I'll to court, nay--to the king. _Gui._ By heaven, I swear you cannot, shall not,--dare not see him. _Mar._ By heaven, I can, I dare, nay--and I will; And nothing but your stay shall hinder me; For now, methinks, I long for't. _Gui._ Possible! _Mar._ I'll give you yet a little time to think; But, if I hear you go to take your leave, I'll meet you there; before the throne I'll stand,-- Nay you shall see me kneel and kiss his hand. [_Exit._ _Gui._ Furies and hell! She does but try me,--Ha! This is the mother-queen, and Espernon, Abbot Delbene, Alphonso Corso too, All packed to plot, and turn me into madness. [_Reading the Letter._ _Enter Cardinal_ GUISE, _Duke Of_ MAYENNE, MALICORN, _&c._ Ha! can it be! "Madam, the king loves you."-- [_Reads._ But vengeance I will have; to pieces, thus, To pieces with them all. [_Tears the Letter._ _Card._ Speak lower. _Gui._ No; By all the torments of this galling passion, I'll hollow the revenge I vow, so loud, My father's ghost shall hear me up to heaven. _Card._ Contain yourself; this outrage will undo us. _Gui._ All things are ripe, and love new points their ruin. Ha! my good lords, what if the murdering council Were in our power, should they escape our justice? I see, by each man's laying of his hand Upon his sword, you swear the like revenge. For me, I wish that mine may both rot off-- _Card._ No more. _May._ The Council of Sixteen attend you.