 | The Queen-Mother |  |
SCENE III.
The Louvre.Enter La Rochefoucauld and Yolande de Montlitard.
La R.
You do not use me smoothly.
Yol.
Did I sue
That you would love me? I owe you nothing.
La R.
No?
But if I leave with you so much of me,
Do I not keep some petty part of you?
Yol.
Oh, not a whit; what would you do with it?
La R.
In faith, I know not.
Yol.
You have the holy way
Of cutting clean an oath; as you do coin it
A girl might use the like; your protestation
Is made out of the ravel of spoilt silk;
I trust no such tagged speech.
La R.
To do you pleasure
60
And put shame out of use with violent breath.
But to my point.
Yol.
Shall I not say one thing?
La R.
So I would have you.
Yol.
Then I think, this breath
So spent on my vexation is not used
For love of me—nay, pray you keep that in—
But the keen service of your admiral
To whom I must be evidenced.
La R.
What then?
Are you too far in hate to do me good?
Yol.
Too far in faith to swell you with such help;
Put down i' the writing that a woman's trust
Is much belied with you; there's no such flaw
As male repute doth work to blot us with;
I swear I will not show you anything.
La R.
I do not beg such alms of you; come back;
Do words make all the sweet on so sweet lips?
Yol.
I did not bid you shift your note to this.
Sir, that ring's edge of yours has cut my glove.
[Exeunt.
| The Queen-Mother | |