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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Now Captain of my guarde, are these murtherers ready?

But are they resolute and armde to kill,

Hating the life and honour of the Guise?

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.

Let him come in.

Come Guise and see thy traiterous guile outreacht,

And perish in the pit thou mad'st for me.

Good morrow to my loving Cousin of Guise.

How fares it this morning with your excellence?

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.

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.

Boy, look where your father lyes.

Sirra twas I that slew him, and will slay

Thee too, and thou prove such a traitor.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The Massacre at Paris