_Gril._ A friend! Traitor thou mean'st, and so I bid thee welcome; But since thou art so insolent, thy blood Be on thy head, and fall by me unpitied. [_Exit._ _Gui._ The bruises of his loyalty have crazed him. [_Shouts louder._ _Spirit within sings._ _Malicorn, Malicorn, Malicorn, ho! If the Guise resolves to go, I charge, I warn thee let him know, Perhaps his head may lie too low._ _Gui._ Why, Malicorn. _Mal._ [_Starting._] Sir, do not see the king. _Gui._ I will. _Mal._ 'Tis dangerous. _Gui._ Therefore I will see him, And so report my danger to the people. Halt--to your judgment.--[MALICORN _makes signs of Assassination._] Let him, if he dare.-- But more, more, more;--why, Malicorn!--again? I thought a look, with us, had been a language; I'll talk my mind on any point but this By glances;--ha! not yet? thou mak'st me blush At thy delay; why, man, 'tis more than life, Ambition, or a crown[12]. _Mal._ What, Marmoutiere? _Gui._ Ay, there a general's heart beat like a drum! Quick, quick! my reins, my back, and head and breast Ache, as I'd been a horse-back forty hours. _Mal._ She has seen the king. _Gui._ I thought she might. A trick upon me; well. _Mal._ Passion o' both sides. _Gui._ His, thou meanest. _Mal._ On hers. Down on her knees. _Gui._ And up again; no matter. _Mal._ Now all in tears, now smiling, sad at parting. _Gui._ Dissembled, for she told me this before; 'Twas all put on, that I might hear and rave. _Mal._ And so, to make sure work on't, by consent Of Grillon, who is made their bawd,-- _Gui._ Away! _Mal._ She's lodged at court. _Gui._ 'Tis false, they do belie her. _Mal._ But, sir, I saw the apartment. _Gui._ What, at court? _Mal._ At court, and near the king; 'tis true, by heaven: I never play'd you foul, why should you doubt me? _Gui._ I would thou hadst, ere thus unmanned my heart! Blood, battles, fire, and death! I run, I run! With this last blow he drives me like a coward; Nay, let me never win a field again, If, with the thought of these irregular vapours, The blood ha'nt burst my lips. _Card._ Peace, brother. _Gui._ By heaven, I took thee for my soul's physician, And dost thou vomit me with this loathed peace? 'Tis contradiction: no, my peaceful brother, I'll meet him now, though fire-armed cherubins Should cross my way. O jealousy of love! Greater than fame! thou eldest of the passions, Or rather all in one, I here invoke thee, Where'er thou'rt throned in air, in earth, or hell, Wing me to my revenge, to blood, and ruin! _Card._ Have you no temper?