SCENE III.--_Enter Duke of_ GUISE; _Cardinal, and_ AUMALE.

_Card._ A dreadful message from a dying man, A prophesy indeed! For souls, just quitting earth, peep into heaven, Make swift acquaintance with their kindred forms, And partners of immortal secrets grow.

_Aum._ 'Tis good to lean on the securer side: When life depends, the mighty stake is such, Fools fear too little, and they dare too much.

_Enter Arch-Bishop._

_Gui._ You have prevailed, I will not go to council. I have provoked my sovereign past a pardon, It but remains to doubt if he dare kill me: Then if he dares but to be just, I die. 'Tis too much odds against me; I'll depart, And finish greatness at some safer time.

_Arch._ By heaven, 'tis Harry's plot to fright you hence, That, coward-like, you might forsake your friends.

_Gui._ The devil foretold it dying Malicorn.

_Arch._ Yes, some court-devil, no doubt: If you depart, consider, good my lord, You are the master-spring that moves our fabric, Which once removed, our motion is no more. Without your presence, which buoys up our hearts, The League will sink beneath a royal name; The inevitable yoke prepared for kings Will soon be shaken off; things done, repealed; And things undone, past future means to do.

_Card._ I know not; I begin to taste his reasons.

_Arch._ Nay, were the danger certain of your stay, An act so mean would lose you all your friends, And leave you single to the tyrant's rage: Then better 'tis to hazard life alone, Than life, and friends, and reputation too.

_Gui._ Since more I am confirmed, I'll stand the shock. Where'er he dares to call, I dare to go. My friends are many, faithful, and united; He will not venture on so rash a deed: And now, I wonder I should fear that force, Which I have used to conquer and contemn.

_Enter_ MARMOUTIERE.

_Arch._ Your tempter comes, perhaps, to turn the scale, And warn you not to go.

_Gui._ O fear her not, I will be there. [_Exeunt Arch-Bishop and Cardinal._ What can she mean?--repent? Or is it cast betwixt the king and her To sound me? come what will, it warms my heart With secret joy, which these my ominous statesmen Left dead within me;--ha! she turns away.

_Mar._ Do you not wonder at this visit, sir?

_Gui._ No, madam, I at last have gained the point Of mightiest minds, to wonder now at nothing.

_Mar._ Believe me, Guise, 'twere gallantly resolved, If you could carry it on the inside too. Why came that sigh uncalled? For love of me, Partly, perhaps; but more for thirst of glory, Which now again dilates itself in smiles, As if you scorned that I should know your purpose.

_Gui._ I change, 'tis true, because I love you still; Love you, O heaven, even in my own despite; I tell you all, even at that very moment, I know you straight betray me to the king.

_Mar._ O Guise, I never did; but, sir, I come To tell you, I must never see you more.

_Gui._ The king's at Blois, and you have reason for it; Therefore, what am I to expect from pity,-- From yours, I mean,--when you behold me slain?

_Mar._ First answer me, and then I'll speak my heart. Have you, O Guise, since your last solemn oath, Stood firm to what you swore? Be plain, my lord, Or run it o'er a while, because again I tell you, I must never see you more.

_Gui._ Never!--She's set on by the king to sift me. Why, by that never then, all I have sworn Is true, as that the king designs to end me.

_Mar._ Keep your obedience,--by the saints, you live.

_Gui._ Then mark; 'tis judged by heads grown white in council, This very day he means to cut me off.

_Mar._ By heaven, then you're forsworn; you've broke your vows.

_Gui._ By you, the justice of the earth, I have not.

_Mar._ By you, dissembler of the world, you have. I know the king.

_Gui._ I do believe you, madam.

_Mar._ I have tried you both.

_Gui._ Not me, the king you mean.

_Mar._ Do these o'erboiling answers suit the Guise? But go to council, sir, there shew your truth; If you are innocent, you're safe; but O, If I should chance to see you stretched along, Your love, O Guise, and your ambition gone, That venerable aspect pale with death, I must conclude you merited your end.

_Gui._ You must, you will, and smile upon my murder.

_Mar._ Therefore, if you are conscious of a breach, Confess it to me. Lead me to the king; He has promised me to conquer his revenge, And place you next him; therefore, if you're right, Make me not fear it by asseverations, But speak your heart, and O resolve me truly!

_Gui._ Madam, I've thought, and trust you with my soul. You saw but now my parting with my brother, The prelate too of Lyons; it was debated Warmly against me, that I should go on.

_Mar._ Did I not tell you, sir?

_Gui._ True; but in spite Of those imperial arguments they urged, I was not to be worked from second thought: There we broke off; and mark me, if I live, You are the saint that makes a convert of me.

_Mar._ Go then:--O heaven! Why must I still suspect you? Why heaves my heart, and overflow my eyes? Yet if you live, O Guise,--there, there's the cause,-- I never shall converse, nor see you more.

_Gui._ O say not so, for once again I'll see you. Were you this very night to lodge with angels, Yet say not never; for I hope by virtue To merit heaven, and wed you late in glory.

_Mar._ This night, my lord, I'm a recluse for ever.

_Gui._ Ha! stay till morning: tapers are too dim; Stay till the sun rises to salute you; Stay till I lead you to that dismal den Of virgins buried quick, and stay for ever.

_Mar._ Alas! your suit is vain, for I have vowed it: Nor was there any other way to clear The imputed stains of my suspected honour.

_Gui._ Hear me a word!--one sigh, one tear, at parting, And one last look; for, O my earthly saint, I see your face pale as the cherubins' At Adam's fall.

_Mar._ O heaven! I now confess, My heart bleeds for thee, Guise.

_Gui._ Why, madam, why?

_Mar._ Because by this disorder, And that sad fate that bodes upon your brow, I do believe you love me more than glory.

_Gui._ Without an oath I do; therefore have mercy, And think not death could make me tremble thus; Be pitiful to those infirmities Which thus unman me; stay till the council's over; If you are pleased to grant an hour or two To my last prayer, I'll thank you as my saint: If you refuse me, madam, I'll not murmur.

_Mar._ Alas, my Guise!--O heaven, what did I say? But take it, take it; if it be too kind, Honour may pardon it, since 'tis my last.

_Gui._ O let me crawl, vile as I am, and kiss Your sacred robe.--Is't possible! your hand! [_She gives him her hand._ O that it were my last expiring moment, For I shall never taste the like again.

_Mar._ Farewell, my proselyte! your better genius Watch your ambition.

_Gui._ I have none but you: Must I ne'er see you more?

_Mar._ I have sworn you must not: Which thought thus roots me here, melts my resolves, [_Weeps._ And makes me loiter when the angels call me.

_Gui._ O ye celestial dews! O paradise! O heaven! O joys, ne'er to be tasted more!

_Mar._ Nay, take a little more: cold Marmoutiere, The temperate, devoted Marmoutiere Is gone,--a last embrace I must bequeath you.

_Gui._ And O let me return it with another!

_Mar._ Farewell for ever; ah, Guise, though now we part, In the bright orbs, prepared us by our fates, Our souls shall meet,--farewell!--and Io's sing above, Where no ambition, nor state-crime, the happier spirits prove, But all are blest, and all enjoy an everlasting love. [_Exit_ MARMOUTIERE.

GUISE _solus._

_Gui._ Glory, where art thou? fame, revenge, ambition, Where are you fled? there's ice upon my nerves; My salt, my metal, and my spirits gone, Palled as a slave, that's bed-rid with an ague, I wish my flesh were off. [_Blood falls from his nose._ What now! thou bleed'st:-- Three, and no more!--what then? and why, what then? But just three drops! and why not just three drops, As well as four or five, or five and twenty?

_Enter a Page._

_Page._ My lord, your brother and the arch-bishop wait you.

_Gui._ I come;--down, devil!--ha! must I stumble too? Away, ye dreams! what if it thundered now, Or if a raven crossed me in my way? Or now it comes, because last night I dreamt The council-hall was hung with crimson round, And all the ceiling plaistered o'er with black. No more!--Blue fires, and ye dull rolling lakes, Fathomless caves, ye dungeons of old night, Phantoms, be gone! if I must die, I'll fall True politician, and defy you all. [_Exit._