Gril. I told him, sir, since you will have it so,
He was the author of the rebel-league;
Therefore, a traitor and a murderer.
King. Is't possible?
Gui. No matter, sir, no matter;
A few hot words, no more, upon my life;
The old man roused, and shook himself a little:
So, if your majesty will do me honour,
I do beseech you, let the business die.
King. Grillon, submit yourself, and ask his pardon.
Gril. Pardon me, I cannot do't.
King. Where are the guards!
Gui. Hold, sir;—come, colonel, I'll ask pardon for you;
This soldierly embrace makes up the breach;
We will be sorry, sir, for one another.
Gril. My lord, I know not what to answer you;
I'm friends,—and I am not,—and so farewell.[Exit.
King. You have your orders; yet before you go,
048 Take this embrace: I court you for my friend,
Though Grillon would not.
Gui. I thank you on my knees;
And still, while life shall last, will take strict care
To justify my loyalty to your person.[Exit.