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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.



Sound Drumme and Trumpets, and enter the King of France, and Nauarre, Epernoune, Bartus, Pleshe, and Souldiers.


Brother of Nauarre I sorrow much,

That euer I was prou'd your enemy,

And that the sweet and princely minde you beare
Was euer troubled with iniurious warres :

I vow as I am lawfull King of France,
To recompence your reconciled loue
With all the honors and affections,

That euer I vouchsafte my dearest freends.


Nauarre. It is enough if that Nauarre may be Esteemed faithfull to the King of France,


Whose seruice he may still commaund till death.

King. Thankes to my Kingly Brother of Nauarre.


Then heere wee'l lye before Lutecia walles,
Girting this strumpet Cittie with our siege,
Till surfeiting with our afflicting armes,
She cast her hatefull stomack to the earth.

Enter a Messenger.


And it please your Maiestie heere is a Frier of the order of the Iacobins, sent from the President of Paris, that craues accesse vnto your grace.

King. Let him come in.


Enter Frier with a Letter.


I like not this Friers look.

Twere not amisse my Lord, if he were searcht.

King. Sweete Epernoune, our Friers are holy men,

And will not offer violence to their King,

For all the wealth and treasure of the world.

Frier, thou dost acknowledge me thy King?
Frier. I my good Lord, and will dye therein.


1151+(Act III.) Scene IV. add. Rob., Cunn.: Scene XIV add. Bull. 1164 Lutetia-walls Dyce, Bull. Lucrecia walles 0: Lutetia's walls Cunn.

King. Then come thou neer, and tell what newes the


Frier. My Lord,

The President of Paris greetes your grace,
And sends his dutie by these speedye lines,
Humblye crauing your gracious reply.


King. Ile read them Frier, and then Ile answere the Frier. Sancte Iacobus, now haue mercye vpon me. rs He stabs the King with a knife as he readeth the letter. and then the King getteth the knife and killes him.


O my Lord, let him liue a while.

King. No, let the villaine dye, and feele in hell Iust torments for his trechery.

Nauarre. What, is your highnes hurt?

King. Yes Nauarre, but not to death I hope.


Nauarre. God shield your grace from such a sodaine death:

Goe call a surgeon hether strait.

King. What irreligeous Pagans partes be these,
Of such as holde them of the holy church?

Take hence that damned villaine from my sight.
Eper. Ah, had your highnes let him liue,
We might haue punisht him to his deserts.

King. Sweet Epernoune all Rebels vnder heauen,
Shall take example by his punishment
How they beare armes against their soueraigne.
Goe call the English Agent hether strait,

Ile send my sister England newes of this,

And giue her warning of her trecherous foes.



Nauarre. Pleaseth your grace to let the Surgeon search your wound.

King. The wound I warrant ye is deepe my Lord, 1205 Search Surgeon and resolue me what thou seest.

The Surgeon searcheth.

Enter the English Agent.

Agent for England, send thy mistres word,

1180-3 Prose 0: corr. Dyce etc. add. Dyce, Bull. 1185 Jacobe Dyce etc. Dyce etc. 1192+S.D. Exit an Attendant +S.D. Attendants carry out the Friar's 1199-1200 Prose 0: corr. Dyce etc.

1183+S.D. Gives letter 1187-8 Prose 0; corr.

add. Dyce etc.


body add. Dyce etc. 1199 his Dyce etc.:

their O 1201+S.D. Exit an Attendant add. Dyce, Bull. 1203 +S.D. Enter a Surgeon add. Dyce etc.

What this detested Iacobin hath done.
Tell her for all this that I hope to liue,
Which if I doe, the Papall Monarck goes
To wrack and antechristian kingdome falles.
These bloudy hands shall teare his triple Crowne,
And fire accursed Rome about his eares.
Ile fire his crased buildings and inforse
The papall towers to kisse the holy earth.
Nauarre, giue me thy hand, I heere do sweare
To ruinate that wicked Church of Rome,
That hatcheth vp such bloudy practises,
And heere protest eternall loue to thee,
And to the Queene of England specially,
Whom God hath blest for hating Papestry.




Nauarre. These words reuiue my thoughts and com-
forts me,

To see your highnes in this vertuous minde.
King. Tell me Surgeon, shall I liue ?

Sur. Alas my Lord, the wound is dangerous,
For you are stricken with a poysoned knife.


King. A poysoned knife, what shall the French king dye,

Wounded and poysoned, both at once?

Eper. O that that damned villaine were aliue againe, That we might torture him with some new found death. 1230 Bar. He died a death too good, the deuill of hell

Torture his wicked soule.


King. Ah curse him not sith he is dead. O,
The fatall poyson workes within my brest,
Tell me Surgeon and flatter not, may I liue?
Sur. Alas my Lord, your highnes cannot liue.
Nauarre. Surgeon, why saist thou so? the King may

King. Oh no Nauarre, thou must be King of France.
Nauarre. Long may you liue, and still be King of France.
Eper. Or else dye Epernoune.


King. Sweet Epernoune thy King must dye. My Lords Fight in the quarrell of this valiant Prince,

For he is your lawfull King and my next heire:

Valoyses lyne ends in my tragedie.

1210 Ends wrack 0: corr. Malone

Dyce, Cunn.

1211 and] and th'

1214 enforce conj. Dyce', Dyce, etc.: incense O 1221 Papestry] popery Cunn. 1231-2 Prose O: div. after div. after dead, breast Dyce

1215 holy] lowly Dyce etc. 1225-6 Prose 0: corr. Dyce etc. good Dyce etc.


1233-5 Prose O: 1241 Ends dye 0: corr. Dyce

Now let the house of Bourbon weare the crowne,
And may it neuer end in bloud as mine hath done.
Weep not sweet Nauarre, but reuenge my death.
Ah Epernoune, is this thy loue to me?
Henry thy King wipes of these childish teares,
And bids thee whet thy sword on Sextus bones,
That it may keenly slice the Catholicks.

He loues me not (the most) that sheds most teares,
But he that makes most lauish of his bloud.

Fire Paris where these trecherous rebels lurke.

I dye Nauarre, come beare me to my Sepulchre.
Salute the Queene of England in my name,
And tell her Henry dyes her faithfull freend.




He dves.

Nauarre. Come Lords, take vp the body of the King, That we may see it honourably interde: And then I vow for to reuenge his death,

As Rome and all those popish Prelates there,

Shall curse the time that ere Nauarre was King,
And rulde in France by Henries fatall death.

They march out with the body of the King, lying
on foure mens shoulders with a dead
march, drawing weapons
on the ground.



[blocks in formation]


11. 812-827. In place of this passage, as given in the quarto, Collier published an amplified version which he claims to have derived from a manuscript source. The first allusion to the matter occurs in the introduction to Collier's edition of The Jew of Malta in the Dodsley of 1825, vol. viii, pp. 244, 245, where the editor says, alluding to the Massacre at Paris:

'A curious MS. fragment of one quarto leaf of this tragedy came into the hands of Mr. Rodd of Newport-street not long since, which, as it very materially differs from the printed edition, is here inserted literatim: it perhaps formed part of a copy belonging to the theatre at the time it was first acted, and it would be still more valuable should any accident hereafter shew that it is in the original handwriting of Marlow.' He then inserts the following version of the scene:

'Enter a SoULDIER wth a muskett.

Souldier. Now, ser, to you yt dares make a duke a cuckolde, and use a counterfeyt key to his privie chamber: thoughe you take out none but yor owne treasure, yet you put in yt displeases him, and fill up his rome yt he shold occupie. Herein, ser, you forestalle the markett, and sett upe yoTM standinge where you shold not. But you will say you leave him rome enoughe besides that's no answere: he's to have the choyce of his owne freeland, yf it be not to free, there's the questione. Now for where he is your landlorde, you take upon you to be his, and will needs enter by defaulte. What thoughe you weere once in possession yett comminge upon you once unawares, he frayde you out againe: therefore your entrye is mere intrusion: this is against the law, ser. And thoughe I come not to keep possessione as I wolde I mighte, yet I come to keepe you out, ser,


You are welcome, ser! have at you. [He kills him. Minion. Trayterous Guise ah, thou has morthered me !

Enter GUISE.

Guise. Hold thee, tale soldier: take thee this and flye.

Thus falls imperfett exhalation,

Which our great sonn of France cold not effecte;
A fyery meteor in the fermament.

Lye there, the kinge's delyght and Guise's scorne!
Revenge it, Henry, if thou list or dar'st;


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