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?

Gui. Pray, sir, give me leave. 
A moment’s thought;—­ha, but I sweat and tremble,
My brain runs this and that way; it will not fix
On aught but vengeance.—­Malicorn, call the people. [Shouts within.
But hark, they shout again:  I’ll on and meet them;
Nay, head them to his palace, as my guards. 
Yet more, on such exalted causes borne,
I’ll wait him in his cabinet alone,
And look him pale; while in his courts without,
The people shout him dead with their alarms,
And make his mistress tremble in his arms. [Exeunt.