The Massacre at Paris SCENE 21. by Christopher Marlowe Lyrics
Enter Duke Dumayn reading of a letter, with others.
Dunaine.
My noble brother murthered by the King,
Oh what may I doe, to revenge thy death?
The Kings alone, it cannot satisfie.
Sweet Duke of Guise our prop to leane upon,
Now thou art dead, heere is no stay for us:
I am thy brother, and ile revenge thy death,
And roote Valois's line from forth of France,
And beate proud Burbon to his native home,
That basely seekes to joyne with such a King,
Whose murderous thoughts will be his overthrow.
Hee wild the Governour of Orleance in his name,
That I with speed should have beene put to death.
But thats prevented, for to end his life,
And all those traitors to the Church of Rome,
That durst attempt to murder noble Guise.
Enter the Frier.
Frier.
My Lord, I come to bring you newes, that your brother
the Cardinall of Loraine by the Kings consent is lately strangled
unto death.
DUMAINE.
My brother Cardenall slaine and I alive?
O wordes of power to kill a thousand men.
Come let us away and leavy men,
Tis warre that must asswage the tyrantes pride.
Frier.
My Lord, heare me but speak.
I am a Frier of the order of the Jacobyns, that for my
conscience sake will kill the King.
DUMAINE.
But what doth move thee above the rest to doe the deed?
Frier.
O my Lord, I have beene a great sinner in my dayes, and
the deed is meritorious.
DUMAINE.
But how wilt thou get opportunitye?
Frier. Tush my Lord, let me alone for that.
Dumaine.
Frier come with me,
We will goe talke more of this within.
Exeunt.
Dunaine.
My noble brother murthered by the King,
Oh what may I doe, to revenge thy death?
The Kings alone, it cannot satisfie.
Sweet Duke of Guise our prop to leane upon,
Now thou art dead, heere is no stay for us:
I am thy brother, and ile revenge thy death,
And roote Valois's line from forth of France,
And beate proud Burbon to his native home,
That basely seekes to joyne with such a King,
Whose murderous thoughts will be his overthrow.
Hee wild the Governour of Orleance in his name,
That I with speed should have beene put to death.
But thats prevented, for to end his life,
And all those traitors to the Church of Rome,
That durst attempt to murder noble Guise.
Enter the Frier.
Frier.
My Lord, I come to bring you newes, that your brother
the Cardinall of Loraine by the Kings consent is lately strangled
unto death.
DUMAINE.
My brother Cardenall slaine and I alive?
O wordes of power to kill a thousand men.
Come let us away and leavy men,
Tis warre that must asswage the tyrantes pride.
Frier.
My Lord, heare me but speak.
I am a Frier of the order of the Jacobyns, that for my
conscience sake will kill the King.
DUMAINE.
But what doth move thee above the rest to doe the deed?
Frier.
O my Lord, I have beene a great sinner in my dayes, and
the deed is meritorious.
DUMAINE.
But how wilt thou get opportunitye?
Frier. Tush my Lord, let me alone for that.
Dumaine.
Frier come with me,
We will goe talke more of this within.
Exeunt.