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.

_Gui._ I go--that vermin may devour my limbs;
That I may die, like the late puling Francis[5],
Under the barber's hands, imposthumes choak me,--
If while alive, I cease to chew their ruin;
Alphonso Corso, Grillon, priest, together:
To hang them in effigy,--nay, to tread,
Drag, stamp, and grind them, after they are dead. [_Exeunt._

ACT II. SCENE I.

_Enter Queen-Mother, Abbot_ DELBENE, _and_ POLIN.

_Qu. M._ Pray, mark the form of the conspiracy:
Guise gives it out, he journeys to Champaigne,
But lurks indeed at Lagny, hard by Paris,
Where every hour he hears