To gain the king more time for his escape.

_Qu. M._ I'll undertake it.--Nay, no thanks, my son.
My blessing shall be given in your deliverance;
That once performed, their web is all unravelled,
And Guise is to begin his work again. [_Exit Q.M._

_King._ I go this minute.

_Enter_ MARMOUTIERE.

Nay, then another minute must be given.--
O how I blush, that thou shouldst see thy king
Do this low act, that lessens all his fame:
Death, must a rebel force me from my love!
If it must be--

_Mar._ It must not, cannot be.

_Gril._ No, nor shall not, wench, as long as my soul wears a body.

_King._ Secure in that, I'll trust thee;--shall I trust thee?
For conquerors have charms, and women frailty:--
Farewell thou mayst behold me king again;
My soul's not yet deposed:--why then farewell!--
I'll say't as comfortably as I can:
But O cursed Guise, for pressing on my time,
And cutting off ten thousand more adieus!

_Mar._ The moments that retard your flight are traitors.