« PředchozíPokračovat »
The Massacre at Paris: With the Death of the Duke of Guise. As it was plaide by the right honourable the Lord high Admirall his Seruants. Written by Christopher Marlow. At London Printed by B. A. for Edward White, dwelling neere the little North doore of S. Paules Church at the signe of the Gun. n. d. 8vo.
Enter CHARLES,* the French king; CATHERINE, the Queen | Having the king, Queen-Mother on our sides,*
Mother; the KING OF NAVARRE; MARGARET, Queen of
Navarre; the PRINCE OF CONDE; the LORD HIGH
ADMIRAL; the OLD QUEEN OF NAVARRE; with others.
Char. Prince of Navarre, my honourable brother,
Prince Condé, and my good Lord Admiral,
I wish this union and religious league,
Knit in these hands, thus join'd in nuptial rites,
May not dissolve till death dissolve our lives;
And that the native sparks of princely love,
That kindled first this motion in our hearts,
May still be fuell'd in our progeny.
To stop the malice of his envious heart,
That seeks 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 murderèd the other night?
Adm. My lord, I marvel that th' aspiring
Nav. The many favours which your grace hath
From time to time, but specially in this,
Shall bind me ever to your highness' will,
In what Queen-Mother or your grace commands.
Cath. Thanks, son Navarre. You see we love
That link you in marriage with our daughter
And, as you know, our difference in religion
Might be a means to cross you in your love,-
Char. Well, madam, let that rest.—
And now, my lords, the marriage-rites perform'd,
We think it good to go and cònsummate
The rest with hearing of a holy mass.-
Sister, I think yourself will bear us company.
Mar. I will, my good lord.
Char. The rest that will not go, my lords, may
Let us go to honour this solemnity.
Cath. Which I'll dissolve with blood and
[Exeunt all except the KING OF NAVARRE, CONDÉ,
and the ADMIRAL.
Nav. Prince Condé, and my good Lord Admiral,
Now Guise may storm, but do us little hurt,
* Enter Charles, &c.] Scene, an apartment in the Louvre.
Dares once adventure, without the king's consent,
To meddle or attempt such dangerous things.
Con. My lord, you need not marvel at the
For what he doth, the Pope will ratify,
In murder, mischief, or in tyranny.
Nav. But he that sits and rules above the clouds
Doth hear and see the prayers of the just,
And will revenge the blood of innocents,
That Guise hath slain by treason of his heart,
And brought by murder to their timeless ends.
Adm. My lord, but did you mark the Cardinal,
The Guise's brother, and the Duke Dumaine,
How they did storm at these your nuptial rites,
Because the house of Bourbon now comes in,
And joins your lineage to the crown of France?
Nav. And that's the cause that Guise so frowns
And beats his brains to catch us in his trap,
Which he hath pitch'd within his deadly toil.
Come, my lords, let's go to the church, and pray
That God may still defend the right of France,
And make his Gospel flourish in this land.
Guise. If ever Hymen lour'd at marriage-rites,
* sides] Altered by the modern editors to "side,”— unnecessarily. "Upon our sides it never shall be broken." Shakespeare's King John, act v. sc. 2.
+ Enter Guise] Scene, an apartment (not in the house of Guise: see note ‡, p. 228).