"I will teach you to laugh when the King speaks! Puppy! Who laughs at his Majesty or touches my brother has to do with Tavannes!" The King, in a rage that almost deprived him of speech, stamped the floor twice.
"Idiot!" he cried.

"Imbecile! Let the man go! 'Tis not he! 'Tis your heretic brother, I tell you! By all the Saints! By the body of--" and he poured forth a flood of oaths.

"Will you listen to me and be silent! Will you--your brother--" "If he be not your Majesty's servant, I will kill him with this sword!" the irrepressible Marshal struck in.

"As I have killed ten to-day! Ten!" And, staggering back, he only saved himself from falling by clutching Chicot about the neck.
"Steady, my pretty Marechale!" the jester cried, chucking him under the chin with one hand, while with some difficulty he supported him with the other--for he, too, was far from sober-- "Pretty Margot, toy with me, Maiden bashful--" "Silence!" Charles cried, darting forth his long arms in a fury of impatience.

"God, have I killed every man of sense?
Are you all gone mad?
Silence! Do you hear?
Silence! And let me hear what he has to say," with a movement towards Count Hannibal.