Mal. ’Tis false; I dare, like you, but cannot act;
There is no force in this enervate arm. 
Blasted I was ere born—­curse on my stars!—­
Got by some dotard in his pithless years,
And sent a withered sapling to the world. 
Yet I have brain, and there is my revenge;
Therefore I say again, these eyes have seen
Thy blood at court, bright as a summer’s morn,
When all the heaven is streaked with dappled fires. 
And flecked with blushes like a rifled maid;
Nay, by the gleamy fires that melted from her,
Fast sighs and smiles, swol’n lips, and heaving breasts,
My soul presages Henry has enjoyed her.

Gril. Again thou liest! and I will crumble thee, Thou bottled spider, into thy primitive earth, Unless thou swear thy very thought’s a lie.

Mal. I stand in adamant, and thus defy thee! 
Nay, draw, and with the edge betwixt my lips,
Even while thou rak’st it through my teeth, I’ll swear
All I have said is true, as thou art honest,
Or I a villain.

Gril. Damned infamous wretch! 
So much below my scorn, I dare not kill thee;
And yet so much my hate, that I must fear thee. 
For should it be as thou hast said, not all
The trophies of my laurelled honesty
Should bar me from forsaking this bad world,
And never draw my sword for Henry more.

Mal. Ha! ’tis well, and now I am revenged.  I was in hopes thou wouldst have uttered treason, And forfeited thy head, to pay me fully.

Gril. Hast thou compacted for a lease of years With hell, that thus thou ventured to provoke me?

Mal. Perhaps I have:  (How right the blockhead hits!) Yet more to rack thy heart, and break thy brain, Thy niece has been before the Guise’s mistress.

Gril. Hell-hound, avaunt!

Mal. Forgive my honest meaning. [Exit.

Gril. ’Tis hatched beneath, a plot upon mine honour;
And thus he lays his baits to catch my soul:—­
Ha! but the presence opens; who comes here? 
By heaven, my niece! led by Alphonso Corso! 
Ha, Malicorn! is’t possible? truth from thee! 
’Tis plain! and I, in justifying woman,
Have done the devil wrong.

  Enter ALPHONSO CORSO, leading in MARMOUTIERE.

Alph. Madam, the king (Please you to sit) will instantly attend you. [Exit.

Gril. Death, hell, and furies! ha! she comes to seek him!—­ O prostitute!—­and, on her prodigal flesh, She has lavished all the diamonds of the Guise, To set her off, and sell her to the king.

Mar. O heavens! did ever virgin yet attempt
An enterprise like mine?  I, that resolved
Never to leave those dear delightful shades,
But act the little part that nature gave me,
On the green carpets of some guiltless grove,
And having finished it, forsake the world;
Unless sometimes my heart might entertain
Some small remembrance of the taking Guise: 
But that far, far from any darkening thought,
To cloud my honour, or eclipse my virtue.