The Works of Christopher Marlowe
The Massacre at Paris
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.
