The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Get you away, and strangle the cardinal.

Sec. Murd. Shed your blood! O Lord, no! for we intend to strangle you.

[To the Murderers. [Exeunt Captain of the Guard and Murderers. These two will make one entire Duke of Guise, Especially with our old mother's help.

Card. Then there is no remedy, but I must die?

First Murd. No remedy; therefore prepare yourself.

Eper. My lord, see, where she comes, as if she droop'd

Card. Yet lives my brother Duke Dumaine, and many more,*

To hear these news.

Henry. And let her droop; my heart is light To revenge our death † upon that cursed king;

enough.

Eater CATHERINE the Queen Mother.
Mother, how like you this device of mine?
I slew the Guise, because I would be king.
Cath. King! why, so thou wert before:
Pray God thou be a king now this is done!
Henry. Nay, he was king, and countermanded

me:

But now I will be king, and rule myself,
And make the Guisians stoop that are alive.
Cath. I cannot speak for grief.-When thou
wast born,

I would that I had murder'd thee, my son!
My son thou art a changeling, not my son:
I curse thee, and exclaim thee miscreant,
Traitor to God and to the realm of France!
Henry. Cry out, exclaim, howl till thy throat
be hoarse !

The Guise is slain, and I rejoice therefore:
And now will I to arms.-Come, Epernoun,
And let her grieve her heart out, if she will.
[Exit with EPERNOUN.
Cath. Away! leave me alone to meditate.
[Exeunt Attendants.
Sweet Guise, would he had died, so thou wert
here!

To whom shall I bewray my secrets now,
Or who will help to build religion?
The Protestants will glory and insult;
Wicked Navarre will get the crown of France;
The Popedom cannot stand; all goes to wreck;
And all for thee, my Guise! What may I do?
But sorrow seize upon my toiling soul !
For, since the Guise is dead, I will not live.
[Brit.

Enter two Murderers,* dragging in the CARDINAL.
Card. Murder me not; I am a cardinal.
First Murd. Wert thou the Pope, thou mightst
not scape from us.

Card. What, will you file your hands with
churchmen's blood?

* Enter two Murderers, &c.] Scene, a prison at Blois.

Upon whose heart may all the Furies gripe,

And with their paws drench his black soul in hell!
First Murd. Yours, my Lord Cardinal, you
should have said.-
[They strangle him.

So, pluck amain:

He is hard-hearted; therefore pull with violence.
Come, take him away. [Exeunt with the body.

Enter DUMAINE, reading a letter; with others.
Dum. My noble brother murder'd by the king!
O, what may I do for to revenge thy death?
The king's alone, it cannot satisfy.
Sweet Duke of Guise, our prop to lean upon,
Now thou art dead, here is no stay for us.

I am thy brother, and I'll revenge thy death,
And root Valois his line from forth of France;
And beat proud Bourbon to his native home,
That basely seeks to join with such a king,
Whose murderous thoughts will be his over-
throw.

He will'd the governor of Orleans, in his name,
That I with speed should have been put to death;
But that's prevented, for to end his life,
And all those traitors to the Church of Rome
That durst attempt to murder noble Guise.

Enter Friar.

Fri. My lord, I come to bring you news that your brother the Cardinal of Lorraine, by the king's consent, is lately strangled unto death.

Dum. My brother [the] Cardinal slain, and I alive!

O words of power to kill a thousand men !—
Come, let us away, and levy men;

'Tis war that must assuage this tyrant's pride.

* more] Here the old ed. has "moe": but elsewhere in these plays we find "more": nor,-considering that transcribers sometimes used one form of the word and sometimes another, -is there any reason why a modern editor should retain "mo", when it does not occur as a rhyme.

tour death] Old ed. "our deaths" (which I formerly retained, supposing that the Cardinal might mean "the Duke of Guise's death and his own").

↑ Enter Dumaine, &c.] Scene, an apartment in the house of Dumaine, at Paris.

§ And all] Old ed. "His life, and all," &c.

Fri. My lord, hear me but speak.

I am a friar of the order of the Jacobins,
That for my conscience' sake will kill the king.
Dum. But what doth move thee, above the
rest, to do the deed?

Fri. O, my lord, I have been a great sinner in Humbly craving your gracious reply. my days! and the deed is meritorious.

Henry. Brother of Navarre, I sorrow much
That ever I was prov'd your enemy,
And that the sweet and princely mind you bear
Was ever troubled with injurious wars.

I vow, as I am lawful king of France,
To recompense your reconcilèd love
With all the honours and affections
That ever I vouchsaf'd my dearest friends.

Nav. It is enough if that Navarre may be
Esteemed faithful to the king of France,
Whose service he may still command till death.
Henry. Thanks to my kingly brother of Navarre.
Then here we'll lie before Lutetia-walls,+
Girting this strumpet city with our siege,
Till, surfeiting with our afflicting arms,
She cast her hateful stomach to the earth.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes. An it please your majesty, here is a friar of the order of the Jacobins, sent from the President of Paris, that craves access unto your grace.

Henry. Let him come in.

[Exit Mess.

Enter Friar, with a letter.

Eper. I like not this friar's look:

"Twere not amiss, my lord, if he were search'd. Henry. Sweet Epernoun, our friars are holy men, And will not offer violence to their king For all the wealth and treasure of the world.Friar, thou dost acknowledge me thy king?

Fri. Ay, my good lord, and will die therein.

Henry. Then come thou near, and tell what news thou bring'st.

Fri. My lord,

The President of Paris greets your grace,
And sends his duty by these speedy lines,

* Enter King Henry, &c.] Scene, Saint-Cloud.

+ Lutetia-walls] i. e. the walls of Paris.-Old ed. "Lucrecia walles."

Friar] It is hardly necessary to add his name,Jaques Clément.

[Gives letter. Henry. I'll read them, friar, and then I'll answer thee.

Fri. Sancte Jacobe, now have mercy upon me! [Stabs the king with a knife, as he reads the letter: and then the king gets the knife, and kills him. Eper. O, my lord, let him live a while! Henry. No, let the villain die, and feel in hell Just torments for his treachery.

Nav. What, is your highness hurt?

Henry. Yes, Navarre; but not to death, I hope. Nav. God shield your grace from such a sudden death1

Go call a surgeon hither straight.

[Exit an Attendant. Henry. What irreligious pagans' parts be these, Of such as hold them of the holy church! Take hence that damned villain from my sight. [Attendants carry out the Friar's body. Eper. Ah, had your highness let him live, We might have punish'd him to his deserts!

Henry. Sweet Epernoun, all rebels under heaven Shall take example by his ‡ punishment, How they bear arms against their sovereign.— Go call the English agent hither straight: [Exit an Attendant. I'll send my sister England news of this, And give her warning of her treacherous foes.

Enter a Surgeon.

Nav. Pleaseth your grace to let the surgeon search your wound?

Henry. The wound, I warrant ye, is deep, my lord.Search, surgeon, and resolve § me what thou see'st. [The Surgeon searches the wound.

* Jacobe] Old ed. "Jacobus."

Stabs the king with a knife, &c.] "Le lendemain, premier août [1589], Henri iii, à son lever, instruit qu'un religieux, chargé de quelques dépêches des prisonniers de Paris, demandoit à lui parler, ordonne qu'on le fasse entrer, s'avance vers lui, prend ses lettres; et, dans le moment qu'il les lisoit attentivement, l'assassin tire un couteau de sa manche et le lui plonge dans le ventre Henri blessé s'écrie, retire lui-même le couteau et en frappe le scélérat au visage. Aussitôt les gentilshommes présents, entraînés par un zèle inconsidéré, mettent en pièces le meurtrier, et enlèvent par sa mort le moyen de connoître ses complices." Anquetil, Hist. de France, t. v. 489, ed. 1817.

this] Old ed. "their."

§ resolve] i. e. certify, inform.

Enter the English Agent.

Agent for England, send thy mistress word
What this detested Jacobin hath done.
Tell her, for all this, that I hope to live;
Which if I do, the papal monarch goes
To wreck, and [th'] antichristian kingdom falls :
These bloody hands shall tear his triple

crown,

And fire accursed Rome about his ears;
I'll fire his crazèd buildings, and enforce
The papal towers to kiss the lowly earth.-*
Navarre, give me thy hand: I here do swear
To ruinate that wicked Church of Rome,
That hatcheth up such bloody practices;
And here protest eternal love to thee,
And to the Queen of England specially,
Whom God hath bless'd for hating papistry.
Nav. These words revive my thoughts, and
comfort me,

To see your highness in this virtuous mind.
Henry. Tell me, surgeon, shall I live?

Surg. Alas, my lord, the wound is dangerous, For you are stricken with a poison'd knife!

Henry. A poison'd knife! what, shall the French king die,

Wounded and poison'd both at once?
Eper. O, that

That damned villain were alive again,
That we might torture him with some new-found
death!

Bar. He died a death too good:

The devil of hell torture his wicked soul!
Henry. Ah, curse him not, sith† he is dead!-

*I'll fire his crazed buildings, and enforce The papal towers to kiss the lowly earth] Old ed., " and incense, The papall towers to kisse the holy earth."

But compare our author's Edward the Second: "I'll fire thy crazèd buildings, and enforce The papal towers to kiss the lowly ground."

"[And], highly scorning that the lowly earth," &c. p. 189, first col., and p. 212, sec. col.

t sith] i. e. since.

O, the fatal poison works within my breast!— Tell me, surgeon, and flatter not-may I live? Surg. Alas, my lord, your highness cannot live! Nav. Surgeon, why say'st thou so? the king may live.

Henry. O, no, Navarre! thou must be king of France.

Nav. Long may you live, and still be king of France!

Eper. Or else, die Epernoun !
Henry. Sweet Epernoun, thy king must die.-
My lords,

Fight in the quarrel of this valiant prince, For he's your lawful king, and my next heir; Valois's line ends in my tragedy. Now let the use Bourbon wear the crown; And may it ne'er end in blood, as mine hath done!

Weep not, sweet Navarre, but revenge my death.-
Ah, Epernoun, is this thy love to me?
Henry, thy king, wipes off these childish tears,
And bids thee whet thy sword on Sixtus' bones,
That it may keenly slice the Catholics.
He loves me not [the most*] that sheds most tears,
But he that makes most lavish of his blood.
Fire Paris, where these treacherous rebels lurk.-
I die, Navarre: come bear me to my sepulchre.
Salute the Queen of England in my name,
And tell her, Henry dies her faithful friend.

[Dies. Nav. Come, lords, take up the body of the king, That we may see it honourably interr'd: And then I vow so t to revenge his death As Rome, and all those popish prelates there, Shall curse the time that e'er Navarre was king, And rul'd in France by Henry's fatal death.

[They march out, with the body of KING HENRY lying on four men's shoulders, with a dead march, drawing weapons on the ground.

the most] So, it would seem, the author wrote.-The modern editors print "the best."

so] Old ed. "for" (the MS. having had "soe," which the compositor misread "for").

THE

TRAGEDY OF DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE.

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The Works of Christopher Marlowe: With Some Account of the Author, and Notes ...