_Qu. M._ You see the plot directly on your person;
But give it o'er, I did but state the case.
Take Guise into your heart, and drive your friends;
Let knaves in shops prescribe you how to sway,
And, when they read your acts with their vile breath,
Proclaim aloud, they like not this or that;
Then in a drove come lowing to the Louvre,
And cry,--they'll have it mended, that they will,
Or you shall be no king.
_King._ 'Tis true, the people
Ne'er know a mean, when once they get the power;
But O, if the design we lay should fail,
Better the traitors never should be touched,
If execution cries not out--'Tis done.
_Qu. M._ No, sir, you cannot fear the sure design:
But I have lived too long, since my own blood
Dares not confide in her that gave him being.
_King._ Stay, madam, stay; come back, forgive my fears,
Where all our thoughts should creep like deepest streams:
Know, then, I hate aspiring Guise to death;
Whored Margarita,--plots upon my life,--
And shall I not revenge?[7]
_Qu. M._ Why, this is Harry;
Harry at Moncontour, when in his bloom
He saw the admiral Coligny's back.[8]
_King._ O this whale Guise, with all the Lorrain fry!
Might I but view him, after his plots and plunges,
Struck on those cowring shallows that await him,--
This were a Florence master-piece indeed.
_Qu. M._ He comes to take his leave.
_King._ Then for Champaigne;
But lies in wait till Paris is in arms.
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