_Gui._ What devil has sent thee here to plague my soul? O that I could detest thee now as much As ever I have loved, nay, even as much As yet, in spite of all thy crimes, I love! But 'tis a love so mixt with dark despair, The smoke and soot smother the rising flame, And make my soul a furnace. Woman, woman, What can I call thee more? if devil, 'twere less. Sure, thine's a race was never got by Adam, But Eve played false, engendering with the serpent, Her own part worse than his. _Mar._ Then they got traitors. _Gui._ Yes, angel-traitors, fit to shine in palaces, Forked into ills, and split into deceits; Two in their very frame. 'Twas well, 'twas well, I saw thee not at court, thou basilisk; For if I had, those eyes, without his guards, Had done the tyrant's work. _Mar._ Why then it seems I was not false in all: I told you, Guise, If you left Paris, I would go to court: You see I kept my promise. _Gui._ Still thy sex: Once true in all thy life, and that for mischief. _Mar._ Have I said I loved you? _Gui._ Stab on, stab: 'Tis plain you love the king. _Mar._ Nor him, nor you, In that unlawful way you seem to mean. My eyes had once so far betrayed my heart, As to distinguish you from common men; Whate'er you said, or did, was charming all. _Gui._ But yet, it seems, you found a king more charming. _Mar._ I do not say more charming, but more noble, More truly royal, more a king in soul, Than you are now in wishes. _Gui._ May be so: But love has oiled your tongue to run so glib,-- Curse on your eloquence! _Mar._ Curse not that eloquence that saved your life: For, when your wild ambition, which defied A royal mandate, hurried you to town; When over-weening pride of popular power Had thrust you headlong in the Louvre toils, Then had you died: For know, my haughty lord, Had I not been, offended majesty Had doomed you to the death you well deserved. _Gui._ Then was't not Henry's fear preserved my life? _Mar._ You know him better, or you ought to know him: He's born to give you fear, not to receive it. _Gui._ Say this again; but add, you gave not up Your honour as the ransom of my life; For, if you did, 'twere better I had died. _Mar._ And so it were. _Gui._ Why said you, so it were? For though 'tis true, methinks 'tis much unkind. _Mar._ My lord, we are not now to talk of kindness. If you acknowledge I have saved your life, Be grateful in return, and do an act, Your honour, though unasked by me, requires. _Gui._ By heaven, and you, whom next to heaven I love, (If I said more, I fear I should not lie,) I'll do whate'er my honour will permit. _Mar._ Go, throw yourself at Henry's royal feet, And rise not till approved a loyal subject. _Gui._ A duteous loyal subject I was ever. _Mar._ I'll put it short, my lord; depart from Paris. _Gui._ I cannot leave My country, friends, religion, all at stake. Be wise, and be before-hand with your fortune; Prevent the turn, forsake the ruined court; Stay here, and make a merit of your love.