And ore his ships will soare vnto the Sunne,
That they may melt and I fall in his armes :
Or els Ile make a prayer vnto the waues,
That I may swim to him like Tritons neece :
O Anna, fetch Orions Harpe,

That I may tice a Dolphin to the shoare,
And ride vpon his backe vnto my loue:
Looke sister, looke, louely Eneas ships,
See see, the billowes heaue him vp to heauen,

1655

1660

And now downe falles the keeles into the deepe :
O sister, sister, take away the Rockes,

Theile breake his ships. O Proteus, Neptune, Ioue,
Saue, saue Eneas, Didos leefest loue!

Now is he come on shoare safe without hurt :
But see, Achates wils him put to sea,

1665

And all the Sailers merrie make for ioy,

But he remembring me shrinkes backe againe :

See where he comes, welcome, welcome my loue.
Anna. Ah sister, leaue these idle fantasies,
Sweet sister cease, remember who you are.
Dido. Dido I am, vnlesse I be deceiu'd,
And must I raue thus for a runnagate ?
Must I make ships for him to saile away?
Nothing can beare me to him but a ship,
And he hath all my fleete, what shall I doe
But dye in furie of this ouersight ?

1670

1675

I, I must be the murderer of my selfe :

No but I am not, yet I will be straight.

Anna be glad, now haue I found a meane
To rid me from these thoughts of Lunacie :
Not farre from hence

There is a woman famoused for arts,
Daughter vnto the Nimphs Hesperides,
Who wild me sacrifize his ticing relliques:
Goe Anna, bid my seruants bring me fire.

Enter Iarbus.

1680

1685

Exit Anna.

Iar. How long will Dido mourne a strangers flight, That hath dishonord her and Carthage both?

1656 Anna repeat conj. Dyce, Cunn. 1660 him] 'em Dyce: them 1678 I, I] Aye,

Arions Dyce to Gros.
1676 my Hurst etc. thy 1594

I Hurst to Bull. 1679+S.D. Aside add. Dyce, Bull. 1682 Not.

hence omit conj. Mitford

1682-3 One line 1594: div. Dyce 1684 Daughter] Guardian conj. Bull.: Drugster conj. Deighton

How long shall I with griefe consume my daies,
And reape no guerdon for my truest loue?

Dido. Iarbus, talke not of Æneas, let him goe,
Lay to thy hands and helpe me make a fire,
That shall consume all that this stranger left,
For I entend a priuate Sacrifize,

To cure my minde that melts for vnkind loue.
Iar. But afterwards will Dido graunt me loue?
Dido. I, I, Iarbus, after this is done,
None in the world shall haue my loue but thou:
So, leaue me now, let none approach this place.

1690

1695

Exit Iarbus.

Now Dido, with these reliques burne thy selfe,
And make Eneas famous through the world,
For periurie and slaughter of a Queene:
Here lye the Sword that in the darksome Caue
He drew, and swore by to be true to me,

1700

1710

Thou shalt burne first, thy crime is worse then his : 1705
Here lye the garment which I cloath'd him in,
When first he came on shoare, perish thou to:
These letters, lines, and periurd papers all,
Shall burne to cinders in this pretious flame.
And now ye Gods that guide the starrie frame,
And order all things at your high dispose,
Graunt, though the traytors land in Italy,
They may be still tormented with vnrest,
And from mine ashes let a Conquerour rise,
That may reuenge this treason to a Queene,
By plowing vp his Countries with the Sword:
Betwixt this land and that be neuer league,
Littora littoribus contraria, fluctibus vndas
Imprecor: arma armis: pugnent ipsíq nepotes:
Liue false Æneas, truest Dido dyes,

Sic sic iuuat ire sub vmbras.

1715

1720

(Stabs herself and throws herself into the flames.)

Enter Anna.

Anna. O helpe Iarbus, Dido in these flames Hath burnt her selfe, aye me, vnhappie me!

1690+S.D. Enter Attendants with wood and torches add. Dyce 1691 Iarbus] Oh conj. Mitford

1698+S.D. They make a fire add. Dyce 1703, 1706 lies Hurst, Dyce 1721 S.D. add. Gros. 1723, 1726 aye] ah Hurst, Cunn.

Enter Iarbus running.

Iar. Cursed Iarbus, dye to expiate

The griefe that tires vpon thine inward soule,
Dido I come to thee, aye me, Æneas.

1725

(Kills himself.)

Anna. What can my teares or cryes preuaile me now?
Dido is dead, Iarbus slaine, Iarbus my deare loue.
O sweet Iarbus, Annas sole delight,

What fatall destinie enuies me thus,
To see my sweet Iarbus slay himselfe ?
But Anna now shall honor thee in death,

And mixe her bloud with thine, this shall I doe,
That Gods and men may pitie this my death,
And rue our ends senceles of life or breath :
Now sweet Iarbus stay, I come to thee.

1726 S.D. add. Hurst

1730

1735

(Kills herself.)

FINIS.

1736 S.D add. Hurst

v. i. 1724-1736

THE MASSACRE AT PARIS

Date. The play of The Massacre at Paris or The Guise, as Henslowe sometimes terms it with rather more propriety, must have been composed between August 2, 1589, and January 30, 1593. On the first of these dates occurred the event with which the tragedy closes, the death of Henri III of France; on the latter occasion the play was performed at Henslowe's theatre by the company of the Lord Strange. Since Henslowe marks 'the tragedey of the gvyes' as a new play on January 30, 1593, it was probably composed pretty shortly before, and is therefore to be reckoned one of the latest of Marlowe's dramatic works. Crude as the play undoubtedly is, there is nothing to indicate that it was written very immediately after the assassination of the French king, for that event, which in a contemporary topical' drama would naturally have formed the mainstay of the plot, is here given very little importance, while the principal interest centres about the ancient history of St. Bartholomew and the animosities of Guise and Navarre.

Stage history. In addition to the single performance by Lord Strange's servants already mentioned, which produced the large sum of £3 14s., Henslowe records ten representations by the Admiral's company between June 19 and September 25, 1594. Notes of expenditure for stage properties show that The Guise was revived in 1598, and again in 1601, and a further memorandum records the disbursement of £6 pd at the apoyntment of the companye the 18 of Janewary 1601 [1602, N.S.] vnto E. Alleyn for iij. boockes wch were played', second on the list being 'the massaker of france'. Mr. Greg is no doubt correct in his opinion1 that the manuscript of our play had been brought to the Admiral's company by Alleyn, when that famous actor left Lord Strange's men to join the other troupe. Text. The Massacre at Paris does not appear to have

been registered for publication. There exists, however, a single early edition printed by E. A. for Edward White, dwelling at the signe of the Gun'. The title-page bears no date and the publication has been conjecturally ascribed to various years between 1594 and 1600. I believe that the edition is somewhat later and that it rather follows than precedes the last revival of the play in 1601. In the first place, the very full character of the stage directions1 indicates that the text is based on a theatre copy, and such a copy would certainly have been more easily obtainable after it was no longer of immediate use to the company. Moreover, Edward White, though he is known to have published a book as early as 1577, was connected with only one other edition of a work by Marlowe-the Tamburlaine of 1605/6, where on the title-pages of both parts there is the same mention of White's name with the notice of his shop at the signe of the Gunne', and in the case of the second part E. A.' is again particularly named as the printer. Such evidence is of no great weight, but it is borne out by the general similarity in typographical details between the 1605/6 Tamburlaine and the undated edition of The Massacre.

Of all the extant plays of Marlowe this of The Massacre at Paris is in its present state much the least meritorious. There can hardly be any doubt that our text is shockingly garbled; it would seem to represent a theatrical abridgement, in which the poet's language and versification have been corrupted on nearly every page, while the very sense of the original can in several passages be only imperfectly preserved. We have no reason to suppose that the play ever possessed in a high degree either coherence or artistic finish; it appears to have been the result of a somewhat ill-digested conception hastily and carelessly worked out. There is nothing to indicate collaboration or methodical revision. Throughout the play, to the very end, occur lines of the most characteristically Marlovian quality, and there appears no trace of any second hand except that of the theatrical adapter. The fallacy of the theory, several times suggested, that Marlowe left the play to be completed by another is evident from the indisputable genuineness of the French king's last speeches (11. 1205-1221, 12411257), while the final words of Navarre, with which the piece

2

1 Cf., for instance, those after 11. 592, 1185.

e.g. ll. 91-166, 390-421, 582-588, 686-703, 854-871, 976-1027.