And if she plays me false, here's that shall mend her.
[_Touching his Dagger, exit._ MARMOUTIERE
_sits. Song and Dance._

_Enter the King._

_King._ After the breathing of a love-sick heart
Upon your hand, once more,--nay twice,--forgive me.

_Mar._ I discompose you, sir.

_King._ Thou dost, by heaven;
But with such charming pleasure,
I love, and tremble, as at angels' view.

_Mar._ Love me, my lord?

_King._ Who should be loved, but you?
So loved, that even my crown, and self are vile,
While you are by. Try me upon despair;
My kingdom at the stake, ambition starved,
Revenge forgot, and all great appetites
That whet uncommon spirits to aspire,
So once a day I may have leave--
Nay, madam, then you fear me.

_Mar._ Fear you, sir! what is there dreadful in you?
You've all the graces that can crown mankind;
Yet wear them so, as if you did not know them;
So stainless, fearless, free in all your actions,