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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

The Massacre at Paris

Act: 1 Scene: 1

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.

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?

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.

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.

Act: 1 Scene: 3

NAVARRE.

Doth not your grace know the man that gave them you?

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.

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.

NAVARRE.

We are betraide, come my Lords, and let us goe tell

the King of this.

Act: 1 Scene: 7

NAVARRE.

My Lord, they say

That all the protestants are massacred.

NAVARRE.

But yet my Lord the report doth run,

That you were one that made this Massacre.

NAVARRE.

Thou traitor Guise, lay of thy bloudy hands.

Act: 1 Scene: 11

NAVARRE.

Comfort your selfe my Lord I have no doubt,

But God will sure restore you to your health.

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.

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.

Act: 1 Scene: 12

ALL.

Vive le Roy, vive le Roy.

ALL.

Vive le Roy, vive le Roy.

Act: 1 Scene: 14

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.

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?

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?

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.

Act: 1 Scene: 16

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.

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.

Act: 1 Scene: 18

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.

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.

NAVARRE.

Pleshe.

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.

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.

Act: 1 Scene: 22

NAVARRE.

It is enough if that Navarre may be

Esteemed faithfull to the King of France:

Whose service he may still commaund to death.

NAVARRE.

What, is your highnes hurt?

NAVARRE.

God shield your grace from such a sodaine death:

Goe call a surgeon hether strait.

NAVARRE.

Pleaseth your grace to let the Surgeon search your wound.

NAVARRE.

These words revive my thoughts and comfort me,

To see your highnes in this vertuous minde.

NAVARRE.

Surgeon, why saist thou so? the King may live.

NAVARRE.

Long may you live, and still be King of France.

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.