080 Mar. Then they got traitors.
Gui. Yes, angel-traitors, fit to shine in palaces,
Forked into ills, and split into deceits;
Two in their very frame. 'Twas well, 'twas well,
I saw thee not at court, thou basilisk;
For if I had, those eyes, without his guards,
Had done the tyrant's work.
Mar. Why then it seems
I was not false in all: I told you, Guise,
If you left Paris, I would go to court:
You see I kept my promise.
Gui. Still thy sex:
Once true in all thy life, and that for mischief.
Mar. Have I said I loved you?
Gui. Stab on, stab:
'Tis plain you love the king.
Mar. Nor him, nor you,
In that unlawful way you seem to mean.
My eyes had once so far betrayed my heart,
As to distinguish you from common men;
Whate'er you said, or did, was charming all.
Gui. But yet, it seems, you found a king more charming.
Mar. I do not say more charming, but more noble,
More truly royal, more a king in soul,
Than you are now in wishes.
Gui. May be so:
But love has oiled your tongue to run so glib,—
Curse on your eloquence!