The Works of Christopher Marlowe

The Massacre at Paris


Act: 1 Scene: 7
Stab him.
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.
Why suffer you that peasant to declaime? Stab him I say and send him to his freends in hell.
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.
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—
Murder the Hugonets, take those pedantes hence.
Come sirs, Ile whip you to death with my punniards point.
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.