Enter King, with his rapier drawn in one hand, leading Maria, seeming affrighted, in the other.
Maria. O, kill me, ere you stain my chastity.
King. My hand holds death; but love sits in mine eye.
Exclaim not, dear Maria; do but hear me.
Though thus in dead of night, as I do now,
The lustful Tarquin stole to the chaste bed
Of Collatine's fair wife, yet shall thou be
No Lucrece, nor thy king a Roman slave,
To make rude villany thine honour's grave.
Maria. Why from my bed have you thus frighted me?
King. To let thee view a bloody horrid tragedy.
Maria. Begin it, then; I'll gladly lose my life,
Rather than be an emperor's concubine.
King. By my high birth, I swear thou shalt be none;
The tragedy I'll write with my own hand;
A king shall act it, and a king shall die,
Except sweet mercy's beam shine from thine eye.
If this affright thee, it shall sleep for ever.
If still thou hate me, thus this noble blade
This royal purple temple shall invade.
Maria. My husband is from hence: for his sake spare me.
King. Thy husband is no Spaniard: thou art one:
So is Fernando; then for country's sake,
Let me not spare thee: on thy husband's face
Eternal night in gloomy shades doth dwell;
But I'll look on thee like the gilded sun,
When to the west his fiery horses run.
Maria. True, here you look on me with sunset eyes,
For by beholding you my glory dies.