If you acknowledge I have saved your life,
Be grateful in return, and do an act,
Your honour, though unasked by me, requires.
_Gui._ By heaven, and you, whom next to heaven I love,
(If I said more, I fear I should not lie,)
I'll do whate'er my honour will permit.
_Mar._ Go, throw yourself at Henry's royal feet,
And rise not till approved a loyal subject.
_Gui._ A duteous loyal subject I was ever.
_Mar._ I'll put it short, my lord; depart from Paris.
_Gui._ I cannot leave
My country, friends, religion, all at stake.
Be wise, and be before-hand with your fortune;
Prevent the turn, forsake the ruined court;
Stay here, and make a merit of your love.
_Mar._ No; I'll return, and perish in those ruins.
I find thee now, ambitious, faithless, Guise.
Farewell, the basest and the last of men!
_Gui._ Stay, or--O heaven!--I'll force you: Stay--
_Mar._ I do believe
So ill of you, so villainously ill,
That, if you durst, you would:
Honour you've little, honesty you've less;
But conscience you have none:
Yet there's a thing called fame, and men's esteem,
Preserves me from your force. Once more, farewell.
Look on me, Guise; thou seest me now the last;
Though treason urge not thunder on thy head,
This one departing glance shall flash thee dead. [_Exit._
_Gui._ Ha, said she true? Have I so little honour?
Why, then, a prize so easy and so fair
Had never 'scaped my gripe: but mine she is;
For that's set down as sure as Henry's fall.
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