TheStationersRegister

The Works of Christopher Marlowe

The Jew of Malta

Act: 3 Scene: 2

What sight is this? my Lodovico slaine!

These armes of mine shall be thy Sepulchre.

Oh Lodowicke! hadst thou perish'd by the Turke,

Wretched Ferneze might have veng'd thy death.

Looke, Katherin, looke, thy sonne gave mine these wounds.

Oh that my sighs could turne to lively breath;

And these my teares to blood, that he might live.

I know not, and that grieves me most of all.

And so did Lodowicke him.

Nay Madam stay, that weapon was my son's,

And on that rather should Ferneze dye.

Then take them up, and let them be interr'd

Within one sacred monument of stone;

Upon which Altar I will offer up

My daily sacrifice of sighes and teares,

And with my prayers pierce th'impartiall heavens,

Till they reveal the causers of our smarts,

Which forc'd their hands divide united hearts:

Come, Katherine, our losses equall are,

Then of true griefe let us take equall share.