cture of the mother's wit,
But left the dregs of wickedness behind.

_May._ Have you not told her what we have in hand?

_Gui._ My utmost aim has been to hide it from her,
But there I'm short; by the long chain of causes
She has scanned it, just as if she were my soul;
And though I flew about with circumstances.
Denials, oaths, improbabilities;
Yet, through the histories of our lives, she looked,
She saw, she overcame.

_May._ Why then, we're all undone.

_Gui._ Again you err.
Chaste as she is, she would as soon give up
Her honour, as betray me to the king:
I tell thee, she's the character of heaven;
Such an habitual over-womanly goodness,
She dazzles, walks mere angel upon earth.
But see, she comes; call the cardinal Guise,
While Malicorn attends for some dispatches,
Before I take my farewell of the court. [_Exit_ MAY.

_Enter_ MARMOUTIERE.

_Mar._ Ah Guise, you are undone!

_Gui._ How, madam?

_Mar._ Lost,
Beyond the possibility of hope:
Despair, and die.

_Gui._ You menace deeply, madam:
And should this come from any mouth but yours,
My smile should answer how the ruin touched me.

_Mar._ Why do you leave the court?

_Gui._ The court leaves me.

_Mar._ Were there no more, but weariness of state,
Or could you, like great Scipio, retire,
Call Rome ungrateful, and sit down with that;
Such inward gallantry would gain you more
Than all the sullied conquests you can boast:
But oh, you want that Roman mastery;
You have too much of the tumultuous times,
And I must mourn the fate of your ambition.

_Gui._ Because the king disdains my services,
Must I not let him know I dare be gone?
What, when I feel his council on my neck,
Shall I not cast them backward if I can,
And at his feet make known their villainy?

_Mar._ No, Guise, not at his feet, but on his head;
For there you strike.

_Gui._ Madam, you wrong me now:
For still, whate'er shall come in fortune's whirl,
His person must be safe.

_Mar._ I cannot think it.
However, your last words confess too much.
Confess! what need I urge that evidence,
When every hour I see you court the crowd,
When with the shouts of the rebellious rabble,
I see you borne on shoulders to cabals;
Where, with the traitorous Council of Sixteen,
You sit, and plot the royal Henry's death;
Cloud the majestic name with fumes of wine,
Infamous scrolls, and treasonable verse;
While, on the other side, the name of Guise,
By the whole kennel of the sl