Or has all majesty fled from the earth,
That women must start up, and in your council
Speak, think, and act for ye; and, lest your vassals,
The very dirt beneath your feet, rise up
And cast ye off, must women, too, defend ye?
For shame, my lords, all, all of ye, for shame,--
Off, off with sword and sceptre, for there is
No loyalty in subjects; and in kings,
No king-like terror to enforce their rights.

Meanwhile Lautrec proposes to his sister Françoise, the hand of his friend,
the gallant Laval; whilst the fair maiden is importuned by Francis, who
endeavours to make the poet Clement Marot the bearer of his intrigue. In a
scene between Francis and the poet, the licentious impatience of the King,
and the unsullied honour of Clement are finely contrasted.

FRANCIS.

I would I'd borne the scroll myself, thy words
Image her forth so fair.

CLEMENT.

Do they, indeed?
Then sorrow seize my tongue, for, look you, sir,
I will not speak of your own fame or honour,
Nor of your word to me: king's words, I find,
Are drafts on our credulity, not pledges
Of their own truth. You have been often pleas'd
To shower your royal favours on my head;