_The_ KING _and_ MADAM _discovered sitting in an inner room.--They rise and come forward._

_Hen._ I do repeat, and swear it, madam, Rosny’s marriage Is but pretence--his lackey has confessed it-- He hath been driven to’t by taking credit For my misdeeds--you must forgive and trust him.

_Mad._ My liege, howe’er I’ve been misled, I can Reproach the marquis with no broken word, But rather blame my own too quick construction; So being free to choose, I know not why His choice should not be real--my worst grief Is for the spirit stung and mortified-- The woman’s spite with which I taunted him-- Oh, I could weep for this!

_Hen._ Take comfort, madam-- If you have lectured him this once unjustly, Be it part payment of a debt from _me_. Keep up the scolding--let him have enough on’t, But for the present pardon him.

_Mad._ My liege, I am too loyal to become your rival; For who shall say what new emergencies May make my Lord de Rosny need his freedom?

_Hen._ Madam, I vow it is my fixed resolve To lead a new life, and require no service That’s not in keeping with his care for _you_-- Beseech you force me not to woo for him-- This tongue of mine has such a trick of talking In the first person, I shall make mistakes.

_Mad._ If ’twere my life, it were your majesty’s Without the wooing, but you urge me now To that which woman hath conceded never-- To take the second place in thoughts of him Who must be first in her’s--sire, pray you spare me!

_Hen._ Why this is to be jealous of the king! Were it the queen ’twere reason.

_Mad._ Pardon, sire, I will trust none that gives no trust to _me_, Had he but said the king needs so and so--

_Hen._ And so he would have done; but don’t you see, He was _ashamed_ of me! Good reason too! I’m a perpetual disgrace to him! Madam, relent--so fair a look makes not Such fell resolves--nay you will wed him still.

_Mad._ No, my liege, never.

_Enter_ PAGE _alarmed and hastily with a note_.

_Page._ Madam, madam!

_Mad._ Ha! [_alarmed and endeavouring to recover herself_]. Sirrah--the king!

_Hen._ Nay, we are old acquaintance! I have a bargain to conclude with him, When I’ve the courage--is it not so? Come-- Speak my good boy.

_Mad._ [_confused_]. I do beseech you, sire, Question him not--the matter is mine own.

_Hen._ Madam, it steals the roses from your cheek, And must be made your champion’s.

_Mad._ Nay! ’tis nothing-- I only wished it secret from the fear Of misconstruction. That the marquis takes His courtship elsewhere I am well content, But, in remembrance of some kindness past, I’ve had misgivings which much troubled me, Touching a rival in my lord’s new venture.

_Hen._ A rival! So! I had forgotten that! [_aside_]. Old Rosny’s case is not quite desperate!

_Mad._ I heard some words last night that sounded like Defiance, and dispatched my page this morning To learn what’s like to come of it.

_Hen._ Most wise And provident--now, sir, your story.

_Page._ Sire, My mistress bade me fly, as I did prize Her life--

_Mad._ My liege, the boy doth ever make My need of him too urgent--

_Hen._ As you prized Your lady’s life! and whither did you fly?

_Page._ To Mons. Victor’s lackey, please you sire, To make acquaintance as I could, and mark What passed--

_Hen._ And then?

_Page._ I met him coming forth, Charged with a letter for the marquis--

_Hen._ Good--

_Page._ “Well met” quoth I--“I’m on the way to him-- Spend me this o’er the way--I’ll do your errand, And then come drink with you.” The sot went in, And here’s the rest on’t-- [_gives letter_].

_Hen._ [_breaking open the letter_]. When thou has a beard I’ll not forget thee--So, the time and place! A challenge, true enough--now on the instant.

_Mad._ My liege, no answer coming, he may send Another that will reach the marquis--

_Hen._ Doubtless.

_Mad._ Alas! Here will be mischief--deadly mischief!

_Hen._ I should not wonder, madam.

_Mad._ Nay, ’tis certain! You’ll interpose, my liege? You will prevent it?

_Hen._ Madam, not I! Rosny would rather die Than live in your displeasure.

_Mad._ Die!

_Hen._ No doubt on’t. You’ll see anon--old Rosny is a fury In his passado--carries a long sword-- Long as his tongue, and pretty near as sharp; But when he feels his victory will gain No smiles from you, his corslet is a cobweb! An urchin might transfix him with a bulrush! A hail stone do the work of a cannon ball! He’ll be demolished, madam, ten times killed!

_Mad._ I do beseech you, sire, lose not the time That may prevent it!

_Hen._ Madam, as you will I’m open to a treaty--’tis my maxim In wars of all kinds. An you’ll wed the marquis, When I have saved him, I will fight his battle.

_Mad._ Sire, ’tis impossible.

_Hen._ So be it, madam.

_Mad._ My liege, my liege!

_Hen._ You will not marry him?

_Mad._ Your faithful friend!

_Hen._ You will not marry him?

_Page._ Madam, say yes--you’ll be too late.

_Mad._ Oh, heaven!

_Hen._ You will not marry him?

_Mad._ Yes, yes, my liege. Whate’er you wish, so you will fly!

_Hen._ I fly! But if I find him not, how stop them then? I’ve none to lay commands upon the marquis--

_Mad._ Sire, if you wish it, I will do’t myself.

_Hen._ Madam, your loyalty is past belief! Show me the nearest road--my liege must fly! [_Exeunt._

END OF THE FOURTH ACT.