Gui. False, false, my Mayenne; thou'rt but half Guise again.
Were she not such a wond'rous composition,
A soul, so flushed as mine is with ambition,
Sagacious and so nice, must have disdained her:
But she was made when nature was in humour,
As if a Grillon got her on the queen,
Where all the honest atoms fought their way,
Took a full tincture of the mother's wit,
But left the dregs of wickedness behind.
May. Have you not told her what we have in hand?
Gui. My utmost aim has been to hide it from her,
But there I'm short; by the long chain of causes
She has scanned it, just as if she were my soul;
And though I flew about with circumstances.
Denials, oaths, improbabilities;
032 Yet, through the histories of our lives, she looked,
She saw, she overcame.
May. Why then, we're all undone.
Gui. Again you err.
Chaste as she is, she would as soon give up
Her honour, as betray me to the king:
I tell thee, she's the character of heaven;
Such an habitual over-womanly goodness,
She dazzles, walks mere angel upon earth.
But see, she comes; call the cardinal Guise,
While Malicorn attends for some dispatches,
Before I take my farewell of the court.[Exit May.
Enter Marmoutiere.
Mar. Ah Guise, you are undone!
Gui. How, madam?
Mar. Lost,
Beyond the possibility of hope:
Despair, and die.
Gui. You menace deeply, madam:
And should this come from any mouth but yours,
My smile should answer how the ruin touched me.