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diff --git a/1496-h/1496-h.htm b/1496-h/1496-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0af851f --- /dev/null +++ b/1496-h/1496-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2911 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Massacre at Paris, by Christopher Marlowe + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Massacre at Paris, by Christopher Marlowe + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Massacre at Paris + +Author: Christopher Marlowe + +Release Date: August 26, 2008 [EBook #1496] +Last Updated: January 15, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASSACRE AT PARIS *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + MASSACRE AT PARIS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Christopher Marlowe + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_TOC"> Table of Contents with inital stage directions + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> DRAMATIS PERSONAE </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>THE MASSACRE AT PARIS.</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> [Scene i] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> [Scene ii] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> [Scene iii] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> [Scene iv] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> [Scene v] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> [Scene vi] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> [Scene vii] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> [Scene viii] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> [Scene ix] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> [Scene x] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> [Scene xi] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> [Scene xii] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> [Scene xiii] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> [Scene xiv] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> [Scene xv] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> [Scene xvi] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> [Scene xvii] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> [Scene xviii] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> [Scene xix] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> [Scene xx] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> [Scene xxi] </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> [Scene xxii] </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_TOC" id="link2H_TOC"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + Table of Contents with inital stage directions: + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dramatis Personae + + Scene 1: Enter Charles the French King, [Catherine] the Queene + Mother, the King of Navarre, the Prince of Condye, the Lord high + Admirall, and [Margaret] the Queene of Navarre, with others. + + Scene 2: Enter the Duke of Guise. + + Scene 3: Enter the King of Navar and Queen [Margaret], and his + [olde] Mother Queen [of Navarre], the Prince of Condy, the + Admirall, and the Pothecary with the gloves, and gives them + to the olde Queene. + + Scene 4: Enter [Charles] the King, [Catherine the] Queene + Mother, Duke of Guise, Duke Anjoy, Duke Demayne [and Cossin, + Captain of the Kings Guard]. + + Scene 5: Enter Guise, Anjoy, Dumaine, Gonzago, Retes, Montsorrell, + and Souldiers to the massacre. + + Scene 6: Enter Mountsorrell and knocks at Serouns doore. + + Scene 7: Enter Ramus in his studie. + + Scene 8: Enter Anjoy, with two Lords of Poland. + + Scene 9: Enter two with the Admirals body. + + Scene 10: Enter five or sixe Protestants with bookes, and kneele + together. + + Scene 11: Enter [Charles] the King of France, Navar and Epernoune + staying him: enter Queene Mother, and the Cardinall [of Loraine, + and Pleshe]. + + Scene 12: Sound Trumpets within, and then all crye vive le Roy two + or three times. + + Scene 13: Enter the Duchesse of Guise, and her Maide. + + Scene 14: Enter the King of Navarre, Pleshe and Bartus, and + their train, with drums and trumpets. + + Scene 15: Enter [Henry] the King of France, Duke of Guise, + Epernoune, and Duke Joyeux. + + Scene 16: Alarums within. The Duke Joyeux slaine. + + Scene 17: Enter a Souldier. + + Scene 18: Enter the King of Navarre reading of a letter, and + Bartus. + + Scene 19: Enter the Captaine of the guarde, and three murtherers. + + Scene 20: Enter two [Murtherers] dragging in the Cardenall [of + Loraine]. + + Scene 21: Enter Duke Dumayn reading of a letter, with others. + + Scene 22: Sound Drumme and Trumpets, and enter the King of France, + and Navarre, Epernoune, Bartus, Pleshe and Souldiers. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + CHARLES THE NINTH—King of France + Duke of Anjou—his brother, afterwards KNIG HENRY THE THIRD + King of Navarre + PRINCE OF CONDE—his brother + + brothers + DUKE OF GUISE + CARDINAL OF LORRAINE + DUKE DUMAINE + + SON TO THE DUKE OF GUISE—a boy + THE LORD HIGH ADMIRAL + DUKE OF JOYEUX + EPERNOUN + PLESHE + BARTUS + TWO LORDS OF POLAND + GONZAGO + RETES + MOUNTSORRELL + COSSINS,—Captain of the King's Guard + MUGEROUN + THE CUTPURSE + LOREINE,—a preacher + SEROUNE + RAMUS + TALEUS + FRIAR + SURGEONENGLISH AGENT + APOTHECARY + Captain of the Guard, Protestants, Schoolmasters, Soldiers, + Murderers, Attendants, &c. + CATHERINE,—the Queen Mother of France + MARGARET,—her daughter, wife to the KING OF NAVARRE + THE OLD QUEEN OF NAVARRE + DUCHESS OF GUISE + WIFE TO SEROUNE + Maid to the Duchess of Guise +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE MASSACRE AT PARIS. + </h1> + <h2> + With the Death of the Duke of Guise. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene i] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter Charles the French King, [Catherine] the Queene Mother, + the King of Navarre, the Prince of Condye, the Lord high + Admirall, and [Margaret] the Queene of Navarre, with others. + + CHARLES. Prince of Navarre my honourable brother, + Prince Condy, and my good Lord Admirall, + wishe this union and religious league, + Knit in these hands, thus joyn'd in nuptiall rites, + May not desolve, till death desolve our lives, + And that the native sparkes of princely love, + That kindled first this motion in our hearts, + May still be feweld in our progenye. + + NAVAREE. The many favours which your grace has showne, + From time to time, but specially in this, + Shall binde me ever to your highnes will, + In what Queen Mother or your grace commands. + + QUEENE MOTHER. Thanks sonne Navarre, you see we love you well, + That linke you in mariage with our daughter heer: + And as you know, our difference in Religion + Might be a meanes to crosse you in your love. + + CHARLES. Well Madam, let that rest: + And now my Lords the mariage rites perfourm'd, + We think it good to goe and consumate + The rest, with hearing of an holy Masse: + Sister, I think your selfe will beare us company. + + QUEENE MARGARET. I will my good Lord. + + CHARLES. The rest that will not goe (my Lords) may stay: + Come Mother, + Let us goe to honor this solemnitie. + + QUEENE MOTHER. Which Ile desolve with bloud and crueltie. + + [Aside.] + + Exit [Charles] the King, Queene Mother, and [Margaret] + the Queene of Navar [with others], and manet Navar, + the Prince of Condy, and the Lord high Admirall. + + NAVARRE. Prince Condy and my good Lord Admiral, + Now Guise may storme but does us little hurt: + Having the King, Queene Mother on our side, + To stop the mallice of his envious heart, + That seekes to murder all the Protestants: + Have you not heard of late how he decreed, + If that the King had given consent thereto, + That all the protestants that are in Paris, + Should have been murdered the other night? + + ADMIRALL. My Lord I mervaile that th'aspiring Guise + Dares once adventure without the Kings assent, + To meddle or attempt such dangerous things. + + CONDY. My Lord you need not mervaile at the Guise, + For what he doth the Pope will ratifie: + In murder, mischeefe, or in tiranny. + + NAVARRE. But he that sits and rules above the clowdes, + Doth heare and see the praiers of the just: + And will revenge the bloud of innocents, + That Guise hath slaine by treason of his heart, + And brought by murder to their timeles ends. + + ADMIRALL. My Lord, but did you mark the Cardinall + The Guises brother, and the Duke Dumain: + How they did storme at these your nuptiall rites, + Because the house of Burbon now comes in, + And joynes your lineage to the crowne of France? + + NAVARRE. And thats the cause that Guise so frowns at us, + And beates his braines to catch us in his trap, + Which he hath pitcht within his deadly toyle. + Come my Lords lets go to the Church and pray, + That God may still defend the right of France: + And make his Gospel flourish in this land. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene ii] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter the Duke of Guise. + + GUISE. If ever Hymen lowr'd at marriage rites, + And had his alters decks with duskie lightes: + If ever sunne stainde heaven with bloudy clowdes, + And made it look with terrour on the worlde: + If ever day were turnde to ugly night, + And night made semblance of the hue of hell, + This day, this houre, this fatall night, + Shall fully shew the fury of them all. + Apothecarie.— + + Enter the Pothecarie. + + POTHECARIE. My Lord. + + GUISE. Now shall I prove and guerdon to the ful, + The love thou bear'st unto the house of Guise: + Where are those perfumed gloves which late I sent + To be poysoned, hast thou done them? speake, + Will every savour breed a pangue of death? + + POTHECARIE. See where they be my Lord, and he that smelles + but to them, dyes. + + GUISE. Then thou remainest resolute. + + POTHECARIE. I am my Lord, in what your grace commaundes till death. + + GUISE. Thankes my good freend, I wil requite thy love. + Goe then, present them to the Queene Navarre: + For she is that huge blemish in our eye, + That makes these upstart heresies in Fraunce: + Be gone my freend, present them to her straite. + Souldyer.— + + Exit Pothecaier. + + Enter a Souldier. + + SOULDIER. My Lord. + + GUISE. Now come thou forth and play thy tragick part, + Stand in some window opening neere the street, + And when thou seest the Admirall ride by, + Discharge thy musket and perfourme his death: + And then Ile guerdon thee with store of crownes. + + SOULDIER. I will my Lord. + + Exit Souldier. + + GUISE. Now Guise, begin those deepe ingendred thoughts + To burst abroad, those never dying flames, + Which cannot be extinguisht but by bloud. + Oft have I leveld, and at last have learnd, + That perill is the cheefest way to happines, + And resolution honors fairest aime. + What glory is there in a common good, + That hanges for every peasant to atchive? + That like I best that flyes beyond my reach. + Set me to scale the high Peramides, + And thereon set the Diadem of Fraunce, + Ile either rend it with my nayles to naught, + Or mount the top with my aspiring winges, + Although my downfall be the deepest hell. + For this, I wake, when others think I sleepe, + For this, I waite, that scorn attendance else: + For this, my quenchles thirst whereon I builde, + Hath often pleaded kindred to the King. + For this, this head, this heart, this hand and sworde, + Contrive, imagine and fully execute + Matters of importe, aimed at by many, + Yet understoode by none. + For this, hath heaven engendred me of earth, + For this, the earth sustaines my bodies weight, + And with this wait Ile counterpoise a Crowne, + Or with seditions weary all the worlde: + For this, from Spaine the stately Catholic + Sends Indian golde to coyne me French ecues: + For this have I a largesse from the Pope, + A pension and a dispensation too: + And by that priviledge to worke upon, + My policye hath framde religion. + Religion: O Diabole. + Fye, I am ashamde, how ever that I seeme, + To think a word of such a simple sound, + Of so great matter should be made the ground. + The gentle King whose pleasure uncontrolde, + Weakneth his body, and will waste his Realme, + If I repaire not what he ruinates: + Him as a childe I dayly winne with words, + So that for proofe, he barely beares the name: + I execute, and he sustaines the blame. + The Mother Queene workes wonders for my sake, + And in my love entombes the hope of Fraunce: + Rifling the bowels of her treasurie, + To supply my wants and necessitie. + Paris hath full five hundred Colledges, + As Monestaries, Priories, Abbyes and halles, + Wherein are thirtie thousand able men, + Besides a thousand sturdy student Catholicks, + And more: of my knowledge in one cloyster keep, + Five hundred fatte Franciscan Fryers and priestes. + All this and more, if more may be comprisde, + To bring the will of our desires to end. + Then Guise, + Since thou hast all the Cardes within thy hands + To shuffle or to cut, take this as surest thing: + That right or wrong, thou deal'st thy selfe a King. + I but, Navarre. Tis but a nook of France. + Sufficient yet for such a pettie King: + That with a rablement of his hereticks, + Blindes Europs eyes and troubleth our estate: + Him will we— + + Pointing to his Sworde. + + But first lets follow those in France. + That hinder our possession to the crowne: + As Caesar to his souldiers, so say I: + Those that hate me, will I learn to loath. + Give me a look, that when I bend the browes, + Pale death may walke in furrowes of my face: + A hand, that with a graspe may gripe the world, + An eare, to heare what my detractors say, + A royall seate, a scepter and a crowne: + That those which doe behold them may become + As men that stand and gase against the Sunne. + The plot is laide, and things shall come to passe, + Where resolution strives for victory. + + Exit. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene iii] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter the King of Navar and Queen [Margaret], and his [olde] + Mother Queen [of Navarre], the Prince of Condy, the Admirall, + and the Pothecary with the gloves, and gives them to the olde + Queene. + + POTHECARIE. Maddame, I beseech your grace to except this simple gift. + + OLD QUEENE. Thanks my good freend, holde, take thou this reward. + + POTHECARIE. I humbly thank your Majestie. + + Exit Pothecary. + + OLD QUEENE. Me thinkes the gloves have a very strong perfume, + The sent whereof doth make my head to ake. + + NAVARRE. Doth not your grace know the man that gave them you? + + OLD QUEENE. Not wel, but do remember such a man. + + ADMIRALL. Your grace was ill advisde to take them then, + Considering of these dangerous times. + + OLD QUEENE. Help sonne Navarre, I am poysoned. + + QUEENE MARGARET. The heavens forbid your highnes such mishap. + + NAVARRE. The late suspition of the Duke of Guise, + Might well have moved your highnes to beware + How you did meddle with such dangerous giftes. + + QUEENE MARGARET. Too late it is my Lord if that be true + To blame her highnes, but I hope it be + Only some naturall passion makes her sicke. + + OLD QUEENE. O no, sweet Margaret, the fatall poyson + Doth work within my heart, my brain pan breakes, + My heart doth faint, I dye. + + She dyes. + + NAVARRE. My Mother poysoned heere before my face: + O gracious God, what times are these? + O graunt sweet God my daies may end with hers, + That I with her may dye and live againe. + + QUEENE MARGARET. Let not this heavy chaunce my dearest Lord, + (For whose effects my soule is massacred) + Infect thy gracious brest with fresh supply, + To agravate our sodaine miserie. + + ADMIRALL. Come my Lords let us beare her body hence, + And see it honoured with just solemnitie. + + As they are going, [enter] the Souldier [above, who] dischargeth + his musket at the Lord Admirall [and exit]. + + CONDY. What are you hurt my Lord high Admiral? + + ADMIRALL. I my good Lord, shot through the arme. + + NAVARRE. We are betraide, come my Lords, and let us goe tell + the King of this. + + ADMIRALL. These are the cursed Guisians that doe seeke our death. + Oh fatall was this mariage to us all. + + They beare away the [olde] Queene [of Navarre] and goe out. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene iv] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter [Charles] the King, [Catherine] the Queene Mother, Duke of Guise, + Duke Anjou, Duke Demayne [and Cossin, Captain of the Kings Guard]. + + QUEENE MOTHER. My noble sonne, and princely Duke of Guise, + Now have we got the fatall stragling deere, + Within the compasse of a deadly toyle, + And as we late decreed we may perfourme. + + CHARLES. Madam, it wilbe noted through the world, + An action bloudy and tirannicall: + Cheefely since under safetie of our word, + They justly challenge their protection: + Besides my heart relentes that noble men, + Onely corrupted in religion, + Ladies of honor, Knightes and Gentlemen, + Should for their conscience taste such rutheles ends. + + ANJOY. Though gentle minces should pittie others paines, + Yet will the wisest note their proper greefes: + And rather seeke to scourge their enemies, + Then be themselves base subjects to the whip. + + GUISE. Me thinkes my Lord, Anjoy hath well advisde + Your highnes to consider of the thing, + And rather chuse to seek your countries good, + Then pittie or releeve these upstart hereticks. + + QUEENE MOTHER. I hope these reasons mayserve my princely, Sonne, + To have some care for feare of enemies. + + CHARLES. Well Madam, I referre it to your Majestie, + And to my Nephew heere the Duke of Guise: + What you determine, I will ratifie. + + QUEENE MOTHER. Thankes to my princely sonne, then tell me Guise, + What order wil you set downe for the Massacre? + + GUISE. Thus Madame. + They that shalbe actors in this Massacre, + Shall weare white crosses on their Burgonets, + And tye white linnen scarfes about their armes. + He that wantes these, and is suspect of heresie, + Shall dye, or be he King or Emperour. + Then Ile have a peale of ordinance shot from the tower, + At which they all shall issue out and set the streetes. + And then the watchword being given, a bell shall ring, + Which when they heare, they shall begin to kill: + And never cease untill that bell shall cease, + Then breath a while. + + Enter the Admirals man. + + CHARLES. How now fellow, what newes? + + MAN. And it please your grace the Lord high Admirall, + Riding the streetes was traiterously shot, + And most humbly intreates your Majestie + To visite him sick in his bed. + + CHARLES. Messenger, tell him I will see him straite. + + Exit Messenger. + + What shall we doe now with the Admirall? + + QUEENE MOTHER. Your Majesty had best goe visite him, + And make a shew as if all were well. + + CHARLES. Content, I will goe visite the Admirall. + + GUISE. And I will goe take order for his death. + + Exit Guise. + + Enter the Admirall in his bed. + + CHARLES. How fares it with my Lord high Admiral, + Hath he been hurt with villaines in the street? + I vow and sweare as I am King of France, + To finde and to repay the man with death: + With death delay'd and torments never usde, + That durst presume for hope of any gaine, + To hurt the noble man his sovereign loves. + + ADMIRALL. Ah my good Lord, these are the Guisians, + That seeke to massacre our guiltles lives. + + CHARLES. Assure your selfe my good Lord Admirall, + I deepely sorrow for your trecherous wrong: + And that I am not more secure my selfe, + Then I am carefull you should be preserved. + Cossin, take twenty of our strongest guarde, + And under your direction see they keep + All trecherous violence from our noble freend, + Repaying all attempts with present death, + Upon the cursed breakers of our peace. + And so be pacient good Lord Admirall, + And every hower I will visite you. + + Exeunt omnes. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene v] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter Guise, Anjoy, Dumaine, Gonzago, Retes, Montsorrell, and + Souldiers to the massacre. + + GUISE. Anjoy, Dumaine, Gonzago, Retes, sweare by + The argent crosses on your burgonets, + To kill all that you suspect of heresie. + + DUMAINE. I sweare by this to be unmercifull. + + ANJOY. I am disguisde and none nows who I am, + And therfore meane to murder all I meet. + + GONZAGO. And so will I. + + RETES. And I. + + GUISE. Away then, break into the Admirals house. + + GETES. I let the Admirall be first dispatcht. + + GUISE. The Admirall, + Cheefe standard bearer to the Lutheranes, + Shall in the entrance of this Massacre, + Be murdered in his bed. + Gonzago conduct them hither, and then + Beset his house that not a man may live. + + ANJOY. That charge is mine. Swizers keepe you the streetes, + And at ech corner shall the Kings garde stand. + + GONZAGO. Come sirs follow me. + + Exit Gonzago and others with him. + + ANJOY. Cossin, the Captaine of the Admirals guarde, + Plac'd by my brother, will betray his Lord: + Now Guise shall catholiques flourish once againe, + The head being of, the members cannot stand. + + RETES. But look my Lord, ther's some in the Admirals house. + + Enter [above Gonzago and others] into the Admirals house, + and he in his bed. + + ANJOY. In lucky time, come let us keep this lane, + And slay his servants that shall issue out. + + GONZAGO. Where is the Admirall? + + ADMIRALL. O let me pray before I dye. + + GONZAGO. Then pray unto our Ladye, kisse this crosse. + + Stab him. + + ADMIRALL. O God forgive my sins. + + GUISE. What, is he dead Gonzago? + + GONZAGO. I my Lord. + + GUISE. Then throw him down. + + [The body is thrown down. Exeunt Gonzago and rest above.] + + ANJOY. Now cosin view him well, + It may be it is some other, and he escapte. + + GUISE. Cosin tis he, I know him by his look. + See where my Souldier shot him through the arm. + He mist him neer, but we have strook him now. + Ah base Shatillian and degenerate, + Cheef standard bearer to the Lutheranes, + Thus in despite of thy Religion, + The Duke of Guise stampes on thy liveles bulke. + + Away with him, cut of his head and handes, + And send them for a present to the Pope: + And when this just revenge is finished, + Unto mount Faucon will we dragge his coarse: + And he that living hated so the crosse, + Shall being dead, be hangd thereon in chaines. + + GUISE. Anjoy, Gonzago, Retes, if that you three, + Will be as resolute as I and Dumaine: + There shall not a Hugonet breath in France. + + ANJOY. I sweare by this crosse, wee'l not be partiall, + But slay as many as we can come neer. + + GUISE. Mountsorrett, go and shoote the ordinance of, + That they which have already set the street + May know their watchword, and then tole the bell, + And so lets forward to the Massacre. + + MOUNTSORRELL. I will my Lord. + + Exit Mountsorrell. + + GUISE. And now my Lords let us closely to our busines. + + ANJOY. Anjoy will follow thee. + + DUMAINE. And so will Dumaine. + + The ordinance being shot of, the bell tolles. + + GUISE. Come then, lets away. + + Exeunt. + + The Guise enters againe, with all the rest, with their Swords drawne, + chasing the Protestants. + + GUISE. Tue, tue, tue, + Let none escape, murder the Hugonets. + + ANJOY. Kill them, kill them. + + Exeunt. + + Enter Loreine running, the Guise and the rest pursuing him. + + GUISE. Loreine, Loreine, follow Loreine.. Sirra, + Are you a preacher of these heresies? + + LOREINE. I am a preacher of the word of God, + And thou a traitor to thy soule and him. + + GUISE. Dearely beloved brother, thus tis written. + + He stabs him. + + ANJOY. Stay my Lord, let me begin the psalme. + + GUISE. Come dragge him away and throw him in a ditch. + + Exeunt [omnes]. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene vi] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter Mountsorrell and knocks at Serouns doore. + + SEROUNS WIFE. Who is't that knocks there? + + [Within.] + + MOUNTSORRELL. Mountsorrett from the Duke of Guise. + + SEROUNS WIFE. Husband come down, heer's one would speak with + you from the Duke of Guise. + + Enter Seroune. + + SEROUNE. To speek with me from such a man as he? + + MOUNTSORRELL. I, I, for this Seroune, and thou shalt ha't. + + Shewing his dagger. + + SEROUNE. O let me pray before I take my death. + + MOUNTSORRELL. Despatch then quickly. + + SEROUNE. O Christ my Saviour— + + MOUNTSORRELL. Christ, villaine? + Why, darst thou presume to call on Christ, + Without the intercession of some Saint? + Sanctus Jacobus hee was my Saint, pray to him. + + SEROUNE. O let me pray unto my God. + + MOUNTSORRELL. Then take this with you. + + Stab him [and he falls within and dies]. + + Exit. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene vii] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter Ramus in his studie. + + RAMUS. What fearfull cries come from the river Sene, + That fright poore Ramus sitting at his book? + I feare the Guisians have past the bridge, + And meane once more to menace me. + + Enter Taleus. + + TALEUS. Flye Ramus flye, if thou wilt save thy life. + + RAMUS. Tell me Taleus, wherfore should I flye? + + TALEUS. The Guisians are hard at thy doore, + And meane to murder us: + Harke, harke they come, Ile leap out at the window. + + [Runs out from studie.] + + RAMUS. Sweet Taleus stay. + + Enter Gonzago and Retes. + + GONZAGO. Who goes there? + + RETES. Tis Taleus, Ramus bedfellow. + + GONZAGO. What art thou? + + TALEUS. I am as Ramus is, a Christian. + + RETES. O let him goe, he is a catholick. + + Exit Taleus. + + Enter Ramus [out of his studie]. + + GONZAGO. Come Ramus, more golde, or thou shalt have the stabbe. + + RAMUS. Alas I am a scholler, how should I have golde? + All that I have is but my stipend from the King, + Which is no sooner receiv'd but it is spent. + + Enter the Guise and Anjoy [, Dumaine, Mountsorrell, + with soldiers]. + + ANJOY. Whom have you there? + + RETES. Tis Ramus, the Kings professor of Logick. + + GUISE. Stab him. + + RAMUS. O good my Lord, + Wherein hath Ramus been so offencious? + + GUISE. Marry sir, in having a smack in all, + And yet didst never sound any thing to the depth. + Was it not thou that scoff'dst the Organon, + And said it was a heape of vanities? + He that will be a flat decotamest, + And seen in nothing but Epitomies: + Is in your judgment thought a learned man. + And he forsooth must goe and preach in Germany: + Excepting against Doctors actions, + And ipse dixi with this quidditie, + Argumentum testimonis est in arte partialis. + To contradict which, I say Ramus shall dye: + How answere you that? your nego argumentum + Cannot serve, Sirrah, kill him. + + RAMUS. O good my Lord, let me but speak a word. + + ANJOY. Well, say on. + + RAMUS. Not for my life doe I desire this pause, + But in my latter houre to purge my selfe, + In that I know the things that I have wrote, + Which as I heare one Shekins takes it ill, + Because my places being but three, contain all his: + I knew the Organon to be confusde, + And I reduc'd it into better forme. + And this for Aristotle will I say, + That he that despiseth him, can nere + Be good in Logick or Philosophie. + And thats because the blockish Sorbonests + Attribute as much unto their workes, + As to the service of the eternall God. + + GUISE. Why suffer you that peasant to declaime? + Stab him I say and send him to his freends in hell. + + ANJOY. Nere was there Colliars sonne so full of pride. + + Kill him. [Close the studie.] + + GUISE. My Lord Anjoy, there are a hundred Protestants, + Which we have chaste into the river Sene, + That swim about and so preserve their lives: + How may we doe? I feare me they will live. + + DUMAINE. Goe place some men upon the bridge, + With bowes and cartes to shoot at them they see, + And sinke them in the river as they swim. + + GUISE. Tis well advisde Dumain, goe see it done. + + Exit Dumaine. + + And in the mean time my Lord, could we devise, + To get those pedantes from the King Navarre, + That are tutors to him and the prince of Condy— + + ANJOY. For that let me alone, Cousin stay heer, + And when you see me in, then follow hard. + + He knocketh, and enter the King of Navarre and Prince + of Condy, with their scholmaisters. + + How now my Lords, how fare you? + + NAVARRE. My Lord, they say + That all the protestants are massacred. + + ANJOY. I, so they are, but yet what remedy: + I have done all I could to stay this broile. + + NAVARRE. But yet my Lord the report doth run, + That you were one that made this Massacre. + + ANJOY. Who I? you are deceived, I rose but now + + Enter [to them] Guise. + + GUISE. Murder the Hugonets, take those pedantes hence. + + NAVARRE. Thou traitor Guise, lay of thy bloudy hands. + + CONDY. Come let us goe tell the King. + + Exeunt [Condy and Navarre]. + + GUISE. Come sirs, Ile whip you to death with my punniards point. + + He kils them. + + ANJOY. Away with them both. + + Exit Anjoy [and soldiers with bodies]. + + GUISE. And now sirs for this night let our fury stay. + Yet will we not the Massacre shall end: + Gonzago posse you to Orleance, Retes to Deep, + Mountsorrell unto Roan, and spare not one + That you suspect of heresy. And now stay + That bel that to the devils mattins rings. + Now every man put of his burgonet, + And so convey him closely to his bed. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene viii] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter Anjoy, with two Lords of Poland. + + ANJOY. My Lords of Poland I must needs confesse, + The offer of your Prince Elector's, farre + Beyond the reach of my desertes: + For Poland is as I have been enformde, + A martiall people, worthy such a King, + As hath sufficient counsaile in himselfe, + To lighten doubts and frustrate subtile foes. + And such a King whom practice long hath taught, + To please himselfe with mannage of the warres, + The greatest warres within our Christian bounds, + I meane our warres against the Muscovites: + And on the other side against the Turke, + Rich Princes both, and mighty Emperours: + Yet by my brother Charles our King of France, + And by his graces councell it is thought, + That if I undertake to weare the crowne + Of Poland, it may prejudice their hope + Of my inheritance to the crowne of France: + For if th'almighty take my brother hence, + By due discent the Regall seat is mine. + With Poland therfore must I covenant thus, + That if by death of Charles, the diadem + Of France be cast on me, then with your leaves + I may retire me to my native home. + If your commission serve to warrant this, + I thankfully shall undertake the charge + Of you and yours, and carefully maintaine + The wealth and safety of your kingdomes right. + + LORD. All this and more your highnes shall commaund, + For Polands crowne and kingly diadem. + + ANJOY. Then come my Lords, lets goe. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene ix] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter two with the Admirals body. + + 1. Now sirra, what shall we doe with the Admirall? + + 2. Why let us burne him for a heretick. + + 1. O no, his bodye will infect the fire, and the fire the aire, and + so we shall be poysoned with him. + + 2. What shall we doe then? + + 1. Lets throw him into the river. + + 2. Oh twill corrupt the water, and the water the fish, and the + fish our selves when we eate them. + + 1. Then throw him into the ditch. + + 2. No, no, to decide all doubts, be rulde by me, lets hang him + upon this tree. + + 1. Agreede. + + They hang him. + + Enter the Duke of Guise, and Queene Mother, and the + Cardinall [of Loraine]. + + GUISE. Now Madame, how like you our lusty Admirall? + + QUEENE MOTHER. Beleeve me Guise he becomes the place so well, + That I could long ere this have wisht him there. + But come lets walke aside, th'airs not very sweet. + + GUISE. No by my faith Madam. + Sirs, take him away and throw him in some ditch. + + Carry away the dead body. + + And now Madam as I understand, + There anre a hundred Hugonets and more, + Which in the woods doe horde their synagogue: + And dayly meet about this time of day, + thither will I to put them to the sword. + + QUEENE MOTHER. Doe so sweet Guise, let us delay no time, + For if these straglers gather head againe, + And disperse themselves throughout the Realme of France, + It will be hard for us to worke their deaths. + + GUISE. Madam, + I goe as whirl-winces rage before a storme. + + Exit Guise. + + QUEENE MOTHER. My Lord of Loraine have you marks of late, + How Charles our sonne begins for to lament + For the late nights worke which my Lord of Guise + Did make in Paris amongst the Hugonites? + + CARDINALL. Madam, I have heard him solemnly vow, + With the rebellious King of Navarre, + For to revenge their deaths upon us all. + + QUEENE MOTHER. I, but my Lord, let me alone for that, + For Katherine must have her will in France: + As I doe live, so surely shall he dye, + And Henry then shall weare the diadem. + And if he grudge or crosse his Mothers will, + Ile disinherite him and all the rest: + For Ile rule France, but they shall weare the crowne: + And if they storme, I then may pull them downe. + Come my Lord let's goe. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene x] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter five or sixe Protestants with bookes, and kneele together. + + Enter also the Guise [and others]. + + GUISE. Downe with the Hugonites, murder them. + + PROTESTANT. O Mounser de Guise, heare me but speake. + + GUISE. No villain, no that toung of thine, + That hath blasphemde the holy Church of Rome, + Shall drive no plaintes into the Guises eares, + To make the justice of my heart relent: + Tue, tue, tue, let none escape: + + Kill them. + + So, dragge them away. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xi] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter [Charles] the King of France, Navar and Epernoune + staying him: enter Queene Mother, and the Cardinall [of + Loraine, and Pleshe]. + + CHARLES. O let me stay and rest me heer a while, + A griping paine hath ceasde upon my heart: + A sodaine pang, the messenger of death. + + QUEENE MOTHER. O say not so, thou kill'st thy mothers heart. + + CHARLES. I must say so, paine forceth me to complain. + + NAVARRE. Comfort your selfe my Lord I have no doubt, + But God will sure restore you to your health. + + CHARLES. O no, my loving brother of Navarre. + I have deserv'd a scourge I must confesse, + Yet is there pacience of another sort, + Then to misdoe the welfare of their King: + God graunt my neerest freends may prove no worse. + O horde me up, my sight begins to faire, + My sinnewes shrinke, my brain turns upside downe, + My heart doth break, I faint and dye. + + He dies. + + QUEENE MOTHER. What art thou dead, sweet sonne? speak to thy Mother. + O no, his soule is fled from out his breast, + And he nor heares, nor sees us what we doe: + My Lords, what resteth now for to be done? + But that we presently despatch Embassadours + To Poland, to call Henry back againe, + To weare his brothers crowne and dignity. + Epernoune, goe see it presently be done, + And bid him come without delay to us. + + Epernoune Madam, I will. + + Exit Epernoune. + + QUEENE MOTHER. And now my Lords after these funerals be done, + We will with all the speed we can, provide + For Henries coronation from Polonia: + Come let us take his body hence. + + All goe out, but Navarre and Pleshe. + + NAVARRE. And now Navarre whilste that these broiles doe last, + My opportunity may serve me fit, + To steale from France, and hye me to my home. + For heers no saftie in the Realme for me, + And now that Henry is cal'd from Polland, + It is my due by just succession: + And therefore as speedily as I can perfourme, + Ile muster up an army secretdy, + For feare that Guise joyn'd with the King of Spaine, + Might seek to crosse me in mine enterprise. + But God that alwaies doth defend the right, + Will shew his mercy and preserve us still. + + PLESHE. The vertues of our poor Religion, + Cannot but march with many graces more: + Whose army shall discomfort all your foes, + And at the length in Pampelonia crowne, + In spite of Spaine and all the popish power, + That hordes it from your highnesse wrongfully: + Your Majestie her rightfull Lord and Soveraigne. + + Navarre Truth Pleshe, and God so prosper me in all, + As I entend to labour for the truth, + And true profession of his holy word: + Come Pleshe, lets away while time doth serve. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xii] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sound Trumpets within, and then all crye vive le Roy two or + three times. + + Enter Henry crowned: Queene [Mother], Cardinall [of Loraine], + Duke of Guise, Epernoone, [Mugeroun,] the kings Minions, with + others, and the Cutpurse. + + ALL. Vive le Roy, vive le Roy. + + Sound Trumpets. + + QUEENE MOTHER. Welcome from Poland Henry once agayne, + Welcome to France thy fathers royall seate, + Heere hast thou a country voice of feares, + A warlike people to maintaine thy right, + A watchfull Senate for ordaining lawes, + A loving mother to preserve thy state, + And all things that a King may wish besides: + All this and more hath Henry with his crowne. + + CARDINALL. And long may Henry enjoy all this and more. + + ALL. Vive le Roy, vive le Roy. + + Sound trumpets. + + KING. Thanks to you al. The guider of all crownes, + Graunt that our deeds may wel deserve your loves: + And so they shall, if fortune speed my will, + And yeeld our thoughts to height of my desertes. + What say our Minions, think they Henries heart + Will not both harbour love and Majestie? + Put of that feare, they are already joynde, + No person, place, or time, or circumstance, + Shall slacke my loves affection from his bent. + As now you are, so shall you still persist, + Remooveles from the favours of your King. + + MUGEROUN. We know that noble minces change not their thoughts + For wearing of a crowne: in that your grace, + Hath worne the Poland diadem, before + You were withvested in the crowne of France. + + KING. I tell thee Mugeroun we will be freends, + And fellowes to, what ever stormes arise. + + MUGEROUN. Then may it please your Majestie to give me leave, + To punish those that doe prophane this holy feast. + + He cuts of the Cutpurse eare, for cutting of the golde + buttons off his cloake. + + KING. How meanst thou that? + + CUTPURSE. O Lord, mine eare. + + MUGEROUN. Come sir, give me my buttons and heers your eare. + + GUISE. Sirra, take him away. + + KING. Hands of good fellow, I will be his baile + For this offence: goe sirra, worke no more, + Till this our Coronation day be past: + And now, + Our rites of Coronation done, + What now remaines, but for a while to feast, + And spend some daies in barriers, tourny, tylte, + And like disportes, such as doe fit the Coutr? + Lets goe my Lords, our dinner staies for us. + + Goe out all, but the Queene [Mother] and the Cardinall. + + QUEENE MOTHER. My Lord Cardinall of Loraine, tell me, + How likes your grace my sonnes pleasantnes? + His mince you see runnes on his minions, + And all his heaven is to delight himselfe: + And whilste he sleepes securely thus in ease, + Thy brother Guise and we may now provide, + To plant our selves with such authoritie, + That not a man may live without our leaves. + Then shall the Catholick faith of Rome, + Flourish in France, and none deny the same. + + Cardinall Madam, as I in secresy was tolde, + My brother Guise hath gathered a power of men, + Which are he saith, to kill the Puritans, + But tis the house of Burbon that he meanest + Now Madam must you insinuate with the King, + And tell him that tis for his Countries good, + And common profit of Religion. + + QUEENE MOTHER. Tush man, let me alone with him, + To work the way to bring this thing to passe: + And if he doe deny what I doe say, + Ile dispatch him with his brother presently. + And then shall Mounser weare the diadem. + Tush, all shall dye unles I have my will: + For while she lives Katherine will be Queene. + Come my Lord, let us goe to seek the Guise, + And then determine of this enterprise. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xiii] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter the Duchesse of Guise, and her Maide. + + DUCHESSE. Goe fetch me pen and inke. + + MAID. I will Madam. + + Exit Maid. + + DUCHESSE. That I may write unto my dearest Lord. + Sweet Mugeroune, tis he that hath my heart, + And Guise usurpes it, cause I am his wife: + Faine would I finde some means to speak with him + But cannot, and therfore am enforst to write, + That he may come and meet me in some place, + Where we may one injoy the others sight. + + Enter the Maid with Inke and Paper. + + So, set it down and leave me to my selfe. + O would to God this quill that heere doth write, + + She writes. + + Had late been plucks from out faire Cupids wing: + That it might print these lines within his heart. + + Enter the Guise. + + GUISE. What, all alone my love, and writing too: + I prethee say to whome thou writes? + + DUCHESSE. To such a one, as when she reads my lines, + Will laugh I feare me at their good aray. + + GUISE. I pray thee let me see. + + DUCHESSE. O no my Lord, a woman only must + Partake the secrets of my heart. + + GUISE. But Madam I must see. + + He takes it. + + Are these your secrets that no man must know? + + DUCHESSE. O pardon me my Lord. + + GUISE. Thou trothles and unjust, what lines are these? + Am I growne olde, or is thy lust growne yong, + Or hath my love been so obscurde in thee, + That others need to comment on my text? + Is all my love forgot which helde thee deare? + I, dearer then the apple of mine eye? + Is Guises glory but a clowdy mist, + In sight and judgement of thy lustfull eye? + Mor du, were not the fruit within thy wombe, + On whose encrease I set some longing hope: + This wrathfull hand should strike thee to the hart + Hence strumpet, hide thy head for shame, + And fly my presence if thou look'st to live. + + Exit [Duchesse]. + + O wicked sexe, perjured and unjust, + Now doe I see that from the very first, + Her eyes and lookes sow'd seeds of perjury, + But villaine he to whom these lines should goe, + Shall buy her love even with his dearest bloud. + + Exit. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xiv] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter the King of Navarre, Pleshe and Bartus, and their train, + with drums and trumpets. + + NAVARRE. Now Lords, since in a quarrell just and right, + We undertake to mannage these our warres + Against the proud disturbers of the faith, + I meane the Guise, the Pope, and King of Spaine, + Who set themselves to tread us under foot, + And rend our true religion from this land: + But for you know our quarrell is no more, + But to defend their strange inventions, + Which they will put us to with sword and fire: + We must with resolute minces resolve to fight, + In honor of our God and countries good. + Spaine is the counsell chamber of the pope, + Spaine is the place where he makes peace and warre, + And Guise for Spaine hath now incenst the King, + To send his power to meet us in the field. + + BARTUS. Then in this bloudy brunt they may beholde, + The sole endevour of your princely care, + To plant the true succession of the faith, + In spite of Spaine and all his heresies. + + NAVARRE. The power of vengeance now implants it selfe, + Upon the hauty mountains of my brest: + Plaies with her goary coulours of revenge, + Whom I respect as leaves of boasting greene, + That change their coulour when the winter comes, + When I shall vaunt as victor in revenge. + + Enter a Messenger. + + How now sirra, what newes? + + MESSENGER. My Lord, as by our scoutes we understande, + A mighty army comes from France with speed: + Which is already mustered in the land, + And meanesto meet your highnes in the field. + + NAVARRE. In Gods name, let them come. + This is the Guise that hath incenst the King, + To leavy armes and make these civill broyles: + But canst thou tell me who is their generall? + + MESSENGER. Not yet my Lord, for thereon doe they stay: + But as report doth goe, the Duke of Joyeux + Hath made great sute unto the King therfore. + + NAVARRE. It will not countervaile his paines I hope, + I would the Guise in his steed might have come, + But he doth lurke within his drousie couch, + And makes his footstoole on securitie: + So he be safe he cares not what becomes, + Of King or Country, no not for them both. + But come my Lords, let us away with speed, + And place our selves in order for the fight. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xv] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter [Henry] the King of France, Duke of Guise, Epernoune, + and Duke Joyeux. + + KING. My sweet Joyeux, I make thee Generall, + Of all my army now in readines, + To march against the rebellious King Navarre: + At thy request I am content thou go'st, + Although my love to thee can hardly suffer't, + Regarding still the danger of thy life. + + JOYEUX. Thanks to your Majestie, and so I take my leave. + Farwell my Lord of Guise and Epernoune. + + GUISE. Health and harty farwell to my Lord Joyeux. + + Exit Joyeux. + + KING. How kindely Cosin of Guise you and your wife + Doe both salute our lovely Minions. + + He makes hornes at the Guise. + + Remember you the letter gentle sir, + Which your wife writ to my deare Minion, + And her chosen freend? + + GUISE. How now my Lord, faith this is more then need, + Am I to be thus jested at and scornde? + Tis more then kingly or Emperious. + And sure if all the proudest kings beside + In Christendome, should beare me such derision, + They should know I scornde them and their mockes. + I love your Minions? dote on them your selfe, + I know none els but hordes them in disgrace: + And heer by all the Saints in heaven I sweare, + That villain for whom I beare this deep disgrace, + Even for your words that have incenst me so, + Shall buy that strumpets favour with his blood, + Whether he have dishonoured me or no. + Par la mor du, Il mora. + + Exit. + + KING. Beleeve me, Epernoune this jest bites sore. + + EPERNOUNE. My Lord, twere good to make them frends, + For his othes are seldome spent in vaine. + + Enter Mugeroun. + + KING. How now Mugeroun, metst thou not the Guise at the doore? + + MUGEROUN. Not I my Lord, what if I had? + + KING. Marry if thou hadst, thou mightst have had the stab, + For he hath solemnely sworne thy death. + + MUGEROUN. I may be stabd, and live till he be dead, + But wherfore beares he me such deadly hate? + + KING. Because his wife beares thee such kindely love. + + MUGEROUN. If that be all, the next time that I meet her, + Ile make her shake off love with her heeles. + But which way is he gone? Ile goe take a walk + On purpose from the Court to meet with him. + + Exit. + + KING. I like not this, come Epernoune + Lets goe seek the Duke and make them freends. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xvi] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Alarums within. The Duke Joyeux slaine. + + Enter the King of Navarre [, Bartus,] and his traine. + + NAVARRE. The Duke is slaine and all his power dispearst, + And we are grac'd with wreathes of victory: + Thus God we see doth ever guide the right, + To make his glory great upon the earth. + + BARTUS. The terrour of this happy victory, + I hope will make the King surcease his hate: + And either never mannage army more, + Or else employ them in some better cause. + + NAVARRE. How many noble men have lost their lives, + In prosecution of these quell armes, + Is ruth and almost death to call to mince: + Put God we know will alwaies put them downe, + That lift themselves against the perfect truth, + Which Ile maintaine as long as life doth last: + And with the Queene of England joyne my force, + To beat the papall Monarck from our lands, + And keep those relicks from our countries coastes. + Come my Lords, now that the storme is overpass, + Let us away with triumph to our tents. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xvii] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter a Souldier. + + SOULDIER. Sir, to you sir, that dare make the Duke a cuckolde, + and use a counterfeite key to his privie Chamber doore: And + although you take out nothing but your owne, yet you put in + that which displeaseth him, and so forestall his market, and set up + your standing where you should not: and whereas tree is your + Landlord, you would take upon you to be his, and tyll the ground + that he himself should occupy, which is his own free land. If it be + not too free there's the question: and though I come not to take + possession (as I would I might) yet I meane to keepe you out, + which I will if this geare horde: what are ye come so soone? + have at ye sir. + + Enter Mugeroun. + + He shootes at him and killes him. + + Enter the Guise [attended]. + + GUISE. Holde thee tall Souldier, take thou this and flye. + + Exit Souldier. + + Lye there the Kings delight, and Guises scorne. + Revenge it Henry as thou list'st or dar'st, + I did it only in despite of thee. + + Take him away. + + Enter the King and Epernoune. + + KING. My Lord of Guise, we understand that you + Have gathered a power of men. + What your intent is yet we cannot learn, + But we presume it is not for our good. + + GUISE. Why I am no traitor to the crowne of France. + What I have done tis for the Gospel's sake. + + EPERNOUNE. Nay for the Popes sake, and shine owne benefite. + What Peere in France but thou (aspiring Guise) + Durst be in armes without the Kings consent? + I challenge thee for treason in the cause. + + GUISE. Oh base Epernoune, were not his highnes heere, + Thou shouldst perceive the Duke of Guise is mov'd. + + KING. Be patient Guise and threat not Epernoune, + Least thou perceive the King of France be mov'd. + + GUISE. Why? I am a Prince of the Valoyses line, + Therfore an enemy to the Burbonites. + I am a juror in the holy league, + And therfore hated of the Protestants. + What should I doe but stand upon my guarde? + And being able, Ile keep an hoast in pay. + + EPERNOUNE. Thou able to maintaine an hoast in pay, + That livest by forraine exhibition? + The Pope and King of Spaine are thy good frends, + Else all France knowes how poor a Duke thou art. + + KING. I, those are they that feed him with their golde, + To countermaund our will and check our freends. + + GUISE. My Lord, to speak more plainely, thus it is: + Being animated by Religious zeale, + I meane to muster all the power I can, + To overthrow those factious Puritans: + And know, the Pope will sell his triple crowne, + I, and the catholick Philip King of Spaine, + Ere I shall want, will cause his Indians, + To rip the golden bowels of America. + Navarre that cloakes them underneath his wings, + Shall feele the house of Lorayne is his foe: + Your highnes need not feare mine armies force, + Tis for your safetie and your enemies wrack. + + KING. Guise, weare our crowne, and be thou King of France, + And as Dictator make or warre or peace, + Whilste I cry placet like a Senator. + I cannot brook thy hauty insolence, + Dismisse thy campe or else by our Edict, + Be thou proclaimde a traitor throughout France. + + GUISE. The choyse is hard, I must dissemble. + + [Aside.] + + My Lord, in token of my true humilitie, + And simple meaning to your Majestie, + I kisse your graces hand, and take my leave, + Intending to dislodge my campe with speed. + + KING. Then farwell Guise, the King and thou art freends. + + Exit Guise. + + EPERNOUNE. But trust him not my Lord, + For had your highnesse seene with what a pompe + He entred Paris, and how the Citizens + With gifts and shewes did entertaine him + And promised to be at his commaund: + Nay, they fear'd not to speak in the streetes, + That Guise ch, durst stand in armes against the King, + For not effecting of his holines will. + + KING. Did they of Paris entertaine him so? + Then meanes he present treason to our state. + Well, let me alone, whose within there? + + Enter one with e pen and inke. + + Make a discharge of all my counsell straite, + And Ile subscribe my name and seale it straight. + My head shall be my counsell, they are false: + And Epernoune I will be rulde by thee. + + EPERNOUNE. My Lord, + I think for safety of your person, + It would be good the Guise were made away, + And so to quite your grace of all suspect. + + KING. First let us set our hand and seale to this, + And then Ile tell thee what I meane to doe. + + He writes. + + So, convey this to the counsell presently. + + Exit one. + + And Epernoune though I seeme milde and calme, + Thinke not but I am tragicall within: + Ile secretly convey me unto Bloyse, + For now that Paris takes the Guises parse, + Heere is not staying for the King of France, + Unles he means to be betraide and dye: + But as I live, so sure the Guise shall dye. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xviii] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter the King of Navarre reading of a letter, and Bartus. + + NAVARRE. My Lord, I am advertised from France, + That the Guise hath taken armes against the King, + And that Paris is revolted from his grace. + + BARTUS. Then hath your grace fit oportunitie, + To shew your love unto the King of France: + Offering him aide against his enemies, + Which cannot but be thankfully receiv'd. + + NAVARRE. Bartus, it shall be so, poast then to Fraunce, + And there salute his highnesse in our name, + Assure him all the aide we can provide, + Against the Guisians and their complices. + Bartus be gone, commend me to his grace, + And tell him ere it be long, Ile visite him. + + BARTUS. I will my Lord. + + Exit. + + NAVARRE. Pleshe. + + Enter Pleshe. + + PLESHE. My Lord. + + NAVARRE. Pleshe, goe muster up our men with speed, + And let them march away to France amaine: + For we must aide the King against the Guise. + Be gone I say, tis time that we were there. + + PLESHE. I goe my Lord. + + [Exit.] + + NAVARRE. That wicked Guise I feare me much will be, + The wine of that famous Realme of France: + For his aspiring thoughts aime at the crowne, + He takes his vantage on Religion, + To plant the Pope and popelings in the Realme, + And binde it wholy to the Sea of Rome: + But if that God doe prosper mine attempts, + And send us safely to arrive in France: + Wee'l beat him back, and drive him to his death, + That basely seekes the wine of his Realme. + + Exit. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xix] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter the Captaine of the guarde, and three murtherers. + + CAPTAINE. Come on sirs, what, are you resolutely bent, + Hating the life and honour of the Guise? + What, will you not feare when you see him come? + + 1. Feare him said you? tush, were he heere, we would kill him + presently. + + 2. O that his heart were leaping in my hand. + + 31. But when will he come that we may murther him? + + CAPTAINE. Well then, I see you are resolute. + + 1. Let us alone, I warrant you. + + CAPTAINE. Then sirs take your standings within this Chamber, + For anon the Guise will come. + + ALL. You will give us our money? + + CAPTAINE. I, I, feare not: stand close, be resolute: + + [The murtherers go aside as if in the next room.] + + Now fals the star whose influence governes France, + Whose light was deadly to the Protestants: + Now must he fall and perish in his height. + + Enter the King and Epernoune. + + KING. Now Captain of my guarde, are these murtherers ready? + + CAPTAINE. They be my good Lord. + + KING. But are they resolute and armde to kill, + Hating the life and honour of the Guise? + + CAPTAINE. I warrant you my Lord. + + [Exit.] + + KING. Then come proud Guise and heere disgordge thy brest, + Surchargde with surfet of ambitious thoughts: + Breath out that life wherein my death was hid, + And end thy endles treasons with thy death. + + Enter the Guise [within] and knocketh. + + GUISE. Holla varlet, hey: Epernoune, where is the King? + + EPERNOUNE. Mounted his royall Cabonet. + + GUISE. I prethee tell him that the Guise is heere. + + EPERNOUNE. And please your grace the Duke of Guise doth crave + Accesse unto your highnes. + + KING. Let him come in. + Come Guise and see thy traiterous guile outreacht, + And perish in the pit thou mad'st for me. + + The Guise comes to the King. + + GUISE. Good morrow to your Majestie. + + KING. Good morrow to my loving Cousin of Guise. + How fares it this morning with your excellence? + + GUISE. I heard your Majestie was scarcely pleasde, + That in the Court I bear so great a traine. + + KING. They were to blame that said I was displeasde, + And you good Cosin to imagine it. + Twere hard with me if I should doubt my kinne, + Or be suspicious of my deerest freends: + Cousin, assure you I am resolute, + Whatever any whisper in mine eares, + Not to suspect disloyaltye in thee, + And so sweet Cuz farwell. + + Exit King [and Epernoune]. + + GUISE. So, + Now sues the King for favour to the Guise, + And all his Minions stoup when I commaund: + Why this tis to have an army in the fielde. + Now by the holy sacrament I sweare, + As ancient Romanes over their Captive Lords, + So will I triumph over this wanton King, + And he shall follow my proud Chariots wheeles. + Now doe I but begin to look about, + And all my former time was spent in vaine: + Holde Sworde, + For in thee is the Guises hope. + + Enter one of the Murtherers. + + Villaine, why cost thou look so gastly? speake. + + 3. O pardon me my Lord of Guise. + + GUISE. Pardon thee, why what hast thou done? + + 3. O my Lord, I am one of them that is set to murder you. + + GUISE. To murder me, villaine? + + 3. I my Lord, the rest have taine their standings in the next + roome, therefore good my Lord goe not foorth. + + GUISE. Yet Caesar shall goe forth. + Let mean consaits, and baser men feare death, + Tut they are pesants, I am Duke of Guise: + And princes with their lookes ingender feare. + + 2 MURD. Stand close, he is comming, I know him by his voice. + + GUISE. As pale as ashes, nay then tis time to look about. + + ALL. Downe with him, downe with him. + + They stabbe him. + + GUISE. Oh I have my death wound, give me leave to speak. + + 2. Then pray to God, and aske forgivenes of the King. + + GUISE. Trouble me not, I neare offended him, + Nor will I aske forgivenes of the King. + Oh that I have not power to stay my life, + Nor immortalitie to be reveng'd: + To dye by Pesantes, what a greefe is this? + Ah Sextus, be reveng'd upon the King, + Philip and Parma, I am slaine for you: + Pope excommunicate, Philip depose, + The wicked branch of curst Valois's line. + Vive la messe, perish Hugonets, + Thus Caesar did goe foorth, and thus he dies. + + He dyes. + + Enter Captaine of the Guarde. + + CAPTAINE. What, have you done? + Then stay a while and Ile goe call the King, + + [Enter King and Epernoune attended.] + + But see where he comes. + My Lord, see where the Guise is slaine. + + KING. Oh this sweet sight is phisick to my soule, + Goe fetch his sonne for to beholde his death: + + [Exit attendant.] + + Surchargde with guilt of thousand massacres, + Mounser of Loraine sinke away to hell, + In just remembrance of those bloudy broyles, + To which thou didst alure me being alive: + And heere in presence of you all I sweare, + I nere was King of France untill this houre: + This is the traitor that hath spent my golde, + In making forraine warres and cruel broiles. + Did he not draw a sorte of English priestes + From Doway to the Seminary at Remes, + To hatch forth treason gainst their naturall Queene? + Did he not cause the King of Spaines huge fleete, + To threaten England and to menace me? + Did he not injure Mounser thats deceast? + Hath he not made me in the Popes defence, + To spend the treasure that should strength my land, + In civill broiles between Navarre and me? + Tush, to be short, he meant to make me Munke, + Or else to murder me, and so be King. + Let Christian princes that shall heare of this, + (As all the world shall know our Guise is dead) + Rest satisfed with this that heer I sweare, + Nere was there King of France so yoakt as I. + + EPERNOUNE. My Lord heer is his sonne. + + Enter the Guises sonne. + + KING. Boy, look where your father lyes. + + YONG GUISE. My father slaine, who hath done this deed? + + KING. Sirra twas I that slew him, and will slay + Thee too, and thou prove such a traitor. + + YONG GUISE. Art thou King, and hast done this bloudy deed? + Ile be revengde. + + He offereth to throwe his dagger. + + KING. Away to prison with him, Ile clippe his winges + Or ere he passe my handes, away with him. + + Exit Boy. + + But what availeth that this traitors dead, + When Duke Dumaine his brother is alive, + And that young Cardinall that is growne so proud? + Goe to the Governour of Orleance, + And will him in my name to kill the Duke. + + [Exit Captaine of the Guarde.] + + Get you away and strangle the Cardinall. + + [Exit murtherers.] + + These two will make one entire Duke of Guise, + Especially with our olde mothers helpe. + + EPERNOUNE. My Lord, see where she comes, as if she droupt + To heare these newest + + Enter Queene Mother [attended]. + + KING. And let her croup, my heart is light enough. + Mother, how like you this device of mine? + I slew the Guise, because I would be King. + + QUEENE MOTHER. King, why so thou wert before. + Pray God thou be a King now this is done. + + KING. Nay he was King and countermanded me, + But now I will be King and rule my selfe, + And make the Guisians stoup that are alive. + + QUEENE MOTHER. I cannot speak for greefe: when thou went home, + I would that I had murdered thee my sonne. + My sonne: thou art a changeling, not my sonne. + I curse thee and exclaime thee miscreant, + Traitor to God, and to the realme of France. + + KING. Cry out, exclaime, houle till thy throat be hoarce, + The Guise is slaine, and I rejoyce therefore: + And now will I to armes, come Epernoune: + And let her greeve her heart out if she will. + + Exit the King and Epernoune. + + QUEENE MOTHER. Away, leave me alone to meditate. + Sweet Guise, would he had died so thou wert heere: + To whom shall I bewray my secrets now, + Or who will helpe to builde Religion? + The Protestants will glory and insulte, + Wicked Navarre will get the crowne of France, + The Popedome cannot stand, all goes to wrack, + And all for thee my Guise: what may I doe? + But sorrow seaze upon my toyling soule, + For since the Guise is dead, I will not live. + + Exit [the attendants taking up body of the Guise]. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xx] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter two [Murtherers] dragging in the Cardenall [of Loraine]. + + CARDINALL. Murder me not, I am a Cardenall. + + 1. Wert thou the Pope thou mightst not scape from us. + + CARDINALL. What, will you fyle your handes with Churchmens bloud? + + 2. Shed your bloud, + O Lord no: for we entend to strangle you. + + CARDINALL. Then there is no remedye but I must dye? + + 1. No remedye, therefore prepare your selfe. + + CARDINALL. Yet lives + My brother Duke Dumaine, and many moe: + To revenge our deaths upon that cursed King, + Upon whose heart may all the furies gripe, + And with their pawes drench his black soule in hell. + + 1. Yours my Lord Cardinall, you should have saide. + + Now they strangle him. + + So, pluck amaine, + He is hard hearted, therfore pull with violence. + Come take him away. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xxi] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Enter Duke Dumayn reading of a letter, with others. + + DUMAINE. My noble brother murthered by the King, + Oh what may I doe, to revenge thy death? + The Kings alone, it cannot satisfie. + Sweet Duke of Guise our prop to leane upon, + Now thou art dead, heere is no stay for us: + I am thy brother, and ile revenge thy death, + And roote Valois's line from forth of France, + And beate proud Burbon to his native home, + That basely seekes to joyne with such a King, + Whose murderous thoughts will be his overthrow. + Hee wild the Governour of Orleance in his name, + That I with speed should have beene put to death. + But thats prevented, for to end his life, + And all those traitors to the Church of Rome, + That durst attempt to murder noble Guise. + + Enter the Frier. + + FRIER. My Lord, I come to bring you newes, that your brother + the Cardinall of Loraine by the Kings consent is lately strangled + unto death. + + DUMAINE. My brother Cardenall slaine and I alive? + O wordes of power to kill a thousand men. + Come let us away and leavy men, + Tis warre that must asswage the tyrantes pride. + + FRIER. My Lord, heare me but speak. + I am a Frier of the order of the Jacobyns, that for my + conscience sake will kill the King. + + DUMAINE. But what doth move thee above the rest to doe the deed? + + FRIER. O my Lord, I have beene a great sinner in my dayes, and + the deed is meritorious. + + DUMAINE. But how wilt thou get opportunitye? + + FRIER. Tush my Lord, let me alone for that. + + DUMAINE. Frier come with me, + We will goe talke more of this within. + + Exeunt. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + [Scene xxii] + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Sound Drumme and Trumpets, and enter the King of France, + and Navarre, Epernoune, Bartus, Pleshe and Souldiers. + + KING. Brother of Navarre, I sorrow much, + That ever I was prov'd your enemy, + And that the sweet and princely minde you beare, + Was ever troubled with injurious warres: + I vow as I am lawfull King of France, + To recompence your reconciled love, + With all the honors and affections, + That ever I vouchsafte my dearest freends. + + NAVARRE. It is enough if that Navarre may be + Esteemed faithfull to the King of France: + Whose service he may still commaund to death. + + KING. Thankes to my Kingly Brother of Navarre. + Then there wee'l lye before Lutetia's walles, + Girting this strumpet Cittie with our siege, + Till surfeiting with our afflicting armes, + She cast her hatefull stomack to the earth. + + Enter a Messenger. + + MESSENGER. And it please your Majestie heere is a Frier of the + order of the Jacobins, sent from the President of Paris, that + craves accesse unto your grace. + + KING. Let him come in. + + Enter Frier with a Letter. + + EPERNOUNE. I like not this Friers look. + Twere not amisse my Lord, if he were searcht. + + KING. Sweete Epernoune, our Friers are holy men, + And will not offer violence to their King, + For all the wealth and treasure of the world. + Frier, thou dost acknowledge me thy King? + + FRIER. I my good Lord, and will dye therein. + + KING. Then come thou neer, and tell what newes thou bringst. + + FRIER. My Lord, + The President of Paris greetes your grace, + And sends his dutie by these speedye lines, + Humblye craving your gracious reply. + + KING. Ile read them Frier, and then Ile answere thee. + + FRIER. Sancte Jacobus, now have mercye on me. + + He stabs the King with a knife as he readeth the letter, and + then the King getteth the knife and killes him. + + EPERNOUNE. O my Lord, let him live a while. + + KING. No, let the villaine dye, and feele in hell, + Just torments for his trechery. + + NAVARRE. What, is your highnes hurt? + + KING. Yes Navarre, but not to death I hope. + + NAVARRE. God shield your grace from such a sodaine death: + Goe call a surgeon hether strait. + + [Exit attendant.] + + KING. What irreligeous Pagans partes be these, + Of such as horde them of the holy church? + Take hence that damned villaine from my sight. + + [Exeunt attendants with body] + + EPERNOUNE. Ah, had your highnes let him live, + We might have punisht him for his deserts. + + KING. Sweet Epernoune all Rebels under heaven, + Shall take example by his punishment, + How they beare armes against their soveraigne. + Goe call the English Agent hether strait, + Ile send my sister England newes of this, + And give her warning of her trecherous foes. + + [Enter Surgeon.] + + NAVARRE. Pleaseth your grace to let the Surgeon search your wound. + + KING. The wound I warrant you is deepe my Lord, + Search Surgeon and resolve me what thou seest. + + The Surgeon searcheth. + + Enter the English Agent. + + Agent for England, send thy mistres word, + What this detested Jacobin hath done. + Tell her for all this that I hope to live, + Which if I doe, the Papall Monarck goes + To wrack, an antechristian kingdome falles. + These bloudy hands shall teare his triple Crowne, + And fire accursed Rome about his eares. + Ile fire his erased buildings and incense + The papall towers to kisse the holy earth. + Navarre, give me thy hand, I heere do sweare, + To ruinate this wicked Church of Rome, + That hatcheth up such bloudy practices. + And heere protest eternall love to thee, + And to the Queene of England especially, + Whom God hath blest for hating Popery. + + NAVARRE. These words revive my thoughts and comfort me, + To see your highnes in this vertuous minde. + + KING. Tell me Surgeon, shall I live? + + SURGEON. Alas my Lord, the wound is dangerous, + For you are stricken with a poysoned knife. + + KING. A poysoned knife? what, shall the French king dye, + Wounded and poysoned, both at once? + + EPERNOUNE. O that that damned villaine were alive againe, + That we might torture him with some new found death. + + BARTUS. He died a death too good, the devill of hell + Torture his wicked soule. + + KING. Oh curse him not since he is dead. + O the fatall poyson workes within my brest, + Tell me Surgeon and flatter not, may I live? + + SURGEON. Alas my Lord, your highnes cannot live. + + NAVARRE. Surgeon, why saist thou so? the King may live. + + KING. Oh no Navarre, thou must be King of France. + + NAVARRE. Long may you live, and still be King of France. + + EPERNOUNE. Or else dye Epernoune. + + KING. Sweet Epernoune thy King must dye. My Lords, + Fight in the quarrell of this valiant Prince, + For he is your lawfull King and my next heire: + Valoyses lyne ends in my tragedie. + Now let the house of Bourbon weare the crowne, + And may it never end in bloud as mine hath done. + Weep not sweet Navarre, but revenge my death. + Ah Epernoune, is this thy love to me? + Henry thy King wipes of these childish teares, + And bids thee whet thy sword on Sextus bones, + That it may keenly slice the Catholicks. + He loves me not the best that sheds most teares, + But he that makes most lavish of his bloud. + Fire Paris where these trecherous rebels lurke. + I dye Navarre, come beare me to my Sepulchre. + Salute the Queene of England in my name, + And tell her Henry dyes her faithfull freend. + + He dyes. + + NAVARRE. Come Lords, take up the body of the King, + That we may see it honourably interde: + And then I vow so to revenge his death, + That Rome and all those popish Prelates there, + Shall curse the time that ere Navarre was King, + And rulde in France by Henries fatall death. + + They march out with the body of the King, lying on foure + mens shoulders with a dead march, drawing weapons on + the ground. +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + FINIS. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Massacre at Paris, by Christopher Marlowe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MASSACRE AT PARIS *** + +***** This file should be named 1496-h.htm or 1496-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/9/1496/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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