Massacre at Paris. Christopher Marlowe

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         POTHECARIE. Maddame, I beseech your grace to except this simple gift.

         OLD QUEENE. Thanks my good freend, holde, take thou this reward.

         POTHECARIE. I humbly thank your Majestie.

         OLD QUEENE. Me thinkes the gloves have a very strong perfume,

         The sent whereof doth make my head to ake.

         NAVARRE. Doth not your grace know the man that gave them you?

         OLD QUEENE. Not wel, but do remember such a man.

         ADMIRALL. Your grace was ill advisde to take them then,

         Considering of these dangerous times.

         OLD QUEENE. Help sonne Navarre, I am poysoned.

         QUEENE MARGARET. The heavens forbid your highnes such mishap.

         NAVARRE. The late suspition of the Duke of Guise,

         Might well have moved your highnes to beware

         How you did meddle with such dangerous giftes.

         QUEENE MARGARET. Too late it is my Lord if that be true

         To blame her highnes, but I hope it be

         Only some naturall passion makes her sicke.

         OLD QUEENE. O no, sweet Margaret, the fatall poyson

         Doth work within my heart, my brain pan breakes,

         My heart doth faint, I dye.

              She dyes.

         NAVARRE. My Mother poysoned heere before my face:

         O gracious God, what times are these?

         O graunt sweet God my daies may end with hers,

         That I with her may dye and live againe.

         QUEENE MARGARET. Let not this heavy chaunce my dearest Lord,

         (For whose effects my soule is massacred)

         Infect thy gracious brest with fresh supply,

         To agravate our sodaine miserie.

         ADMIRALL. Come my Lords let us beare her body hence,

         And see it honoured with just solemnitie.

         CONDY. What are you hurt my Lord high Admiral?

         ADMIRALL. I my good Lord, shot through the arme.

         NAVARRE. We are betraide, come my Lords, and let us goe tell

         the King of this.

         ADMIRALL. These are the cursed Guisians that doe seeke our death.

         Oh fatall was this mariage to us all.

         QUEENE MOTHER. My noble sonne, and princely Duke of Guise,

         Now have we got the fatall stragling deere,

         Within the compasse of a deadly toyle,

         And as we late decreed we may perfourme.

         CHARLES. Madam, it wilbe noted through the world,

         An action bloudy and tirannicall:

         Cheefely since under safetie of our word,

         They justly challenge their protection:

         Besides my heart relentes that noble men,

         Onely corrupted in religion,

         Ladies of honor, Knightes and Gentlemen,

         Should for their conscience taste such rutheles ends.

         ANJOY. Though gentle minces should pittie others paines,

         Yet will the wisest note their proper greefes:

         And rather seeke to scourge their enemies,

         Then be themselves base subjects to the whip.

         GUISE. Me thinkes my Lord, Anjoy hath well advisde

         Your highnes to consider of the thing,

         And rather chuse to seek your countries good,

         Then pittie or releeve these upstart hereticks.

         QUEENE MOTHER. I hope these reasons mayserve my princely, Sonne,

         To have some care for feare of enemies.

         CHARLES. Well Madam, I referre it to your Majestie,

         And to my Nephew heere the Duke of Guise:

         What you determine, I will ratifie.

         QUEENE MOTHER. Thankes to my princely sonne, then tell me Guise,

         What order wil you set downe for the Massacre?

         GUISE. Thus Madame.

         They that shalbe actors in this Massacre,

         Shall weare white crosses on their Burgonets,

         And tye white linnen scarfes about their armes.

         He that wantes these, and is suspect of heresie,

         Shall dye, or be he King or Emperour.

         Then Ile have a peale of ordinance shot from the tower,

         At which they all shall issue out and set the streetes.

         And then the watchword being given, a bell shall ring,

         Which when they heare, they shall begin to kill:

         And never cease untill that bell shall cease,

         Then breath a while.

         CHARLES. How now fellow, what newes?

         MAN. And it please your grace the Lord high Admirall,

         Riding the streetes was traiterously shot,

         And most humbly intreates your Majestie

         To visite him sick in his bed.

         CHARLES. Messenger, tell him I will see him straite.

         What shall we doe now with the Admirall?

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