Massacre at Paris

   GUISE. So,   Now sues the King for favour to the Guise,   And all his Minions stoup when I commaund:   Why this tis to have an army in the fielde.   Now by the holy sacrament I sweare,   As ancient Romanes over their Captive Lords,   So will I triumph over this wanton King,   And he shall follow my proud Chariots wheeles.   Now doe I but begin to look about,   And all my former time was spent in vaine:   Holde Sworde,   For in thee is the Guises hope.

Enter one of the Murtherers.

   Villaine, why cost thou look so gastly? speake.   3. O pardon me my Lord of Guise.   GUISE. Pardon thee, why what hast thou done?   3. O my Lord, I am one of them that is set to murder you.   GUISE. To murder me, villaine?   3. I my Lord, the rest have taine their standings in the next   roome, therefore good my Lord goe not foorth.   GUISE. Yet Caesar shall goe forth.   Let mean consaits, and baser men feare death,   Tut they are pesants, I am Duke of Guise:   And princes with their lookes ingender feare.   2 MURD. Stand close, he is comming, I know him by his voice.   GUISE. As pale as ashes, nay then tis time to look about.   ALL. Downe with him, downe with him.        They stabbe him.   GUISE. Oh I have my death wound, give me leave to speak.   2. Then pray to God, and aske forgivenes of the King.   GUISE. Trouble me not, I neare offended him,   Nor will I aske forgivenes of the King.   Oh that I have not power to stay my life,   Nor immortalitie to be reveng'd:   To dye by Pesantes, what a greefe is this?   Ah Sextus, be reveng'd upon the King,   Philip and Parma, I am slaine for you:   Pope excommunicate, Philip depose,   The wicked branch of curst Valois's line.   Vive la messe, perish Hugonets,   Thus Caesar did goe foorth, and thus he dies.        He dyes.

Enter Captaine of the Guarde.

   CAPTAINE. What, have you done?   Then stay a while and Ile goe call the King,

[Enter King and Epernoune attended.]

   But see where he comes.   My Lord, see where the Guise is slaine.   KING. Oh this sweet sight is phisick to my soule,   Goe fetch his sonne for to beholde his death:

[Exit attendant.]

   Surchargde with guilt of thousand massacres,   Mounser of Loraine sinke away to hell,   In just remembrance of those bloudy broyles,   To which thou didst alure me being alive:   And heere in presence of you all I sweare,   I nere was King of France untill this houre:   This is the traitor that hath spent my golde,   In making forraine warres and cruel broiles.   Did he not draw a sorte of English priestes   From Doway to the Seminary at Remes,   To hatch forth treason gainst their naturall Queene?   Did he not cause the King of Spaines huge fleete,   To threaten England and to menace me?   Did he not injure Mounser thats deceast?   Hath he not made me in the Popes defence,   To spend the treasure that should strength my land,   In civill broiles between Navarre and me?   Tush, to be short, he meant to make me Munke,   Or else to murder me, and so be King.   Let Christian princes that shall heare of this,   (As all the world shall know our Guise is dead)   Rest satisfed with this that heer I sweare,   Nere was there King of France so yoakt as I.   EPERNOUNE. My Lord heer is his sonne.

Enter the Guises sonne.

   KING. Boy, look where your father lyes.   YONG GUISE. My father slaine, who hath done this deed?   KING. Sirra twas I that slew him, and will slay   Thee too, and thou prove such a traitor.   YONG GUISE. Art thou King, and hast done this bloudy deed?   Ile be revengde.        He offereth to throwe his dagger.   KING. Away to prison with him, Ile clippe his winges   Or ere he passe my handes, away with him.

Exit Boy.

   But what availeth that this traitors dead,   When Duke Dumaine his brother is alive,   And that young Cardinall that is growne so proud?   Goe to the Governour of Orleance,   And will him in my name to kill the Duke.

[Exit Captaine of the Guarde.]

   Get you away and strangle the Cardinall.

[Exit murtherers.]

   These two will make one entire Duke of Guise,   Especially with our olde mothers helpe.   EPERNOUNE. My Lord, see where she comes, as if she droupt   To heare these newest

Enter Queene Mother [attended].

   KING. And let her croup, my heart is light enough.   Mother, how like you this device of mine?   I slew the Guise, because I would be King.   QUEENE MOTHER. King, why so thou wert before.   Pray God thou be a King now this is done.   KING. Nay he was King and countermanded me,   But now I will be King and rule my selfe,   And make the Guisians stoup that are alive.   QUEENE MOTHER. I cannot speak for greefe: when thou went home,   I would that I had murdered thee my sonne.   My sonne: thou art a changeling, not my sonne.   I curse thee and exclaime thee miscreant,   Traitor to God, and to the realme of France.   KING. Cry out, exclaime, houle till thy throat be hoarce,   The Guise is slaine, and I rejoyce therefore:   And now will I to armes, come Epernoune:   And let her greeve her heart out if she will.

Exit the King and Epernoune.

   QUEENE MOTHER. Away, leave me alone to meditate.   Sweet Guise, would he had died so thou wert heere:   To whom shall I bewray my secrets now,   Or who will helpe to builde Religion?   The Protestants will glory and insulte,   Wicked Navarre will get the crowne of France,   The Popedome cannot stand, all goes to wrack,   And all for thee my Guise: what may I doe?   But sorrow seaze upon my toyling soule,   For since the Guise is dead, I will not live.Exit [the attendants taking up body of the Guise]

[Scene xx]

Enter two [Murtherers] dragging in the Cardenall [of Loraine].

   CARDINALL. Murder me not, I am a Cardenall.   1. Wert thou the Pope thou mightst not scape from us.   CARDINALL. What, will you fyle your handes with Churchmens bloud?   2. Shed your bloud,   O Lord no: for we entend to strangle you.   CARDINALL. Then there is no remedye but I must dye?   1. No remedye, therefore prepare your selfe.   CARDINALL. Yet lives   My brother Duke Dumaine, and many moe:   To revenge our deaths upon that cursed King,   Upon whose heart may all the furies gripe,   And with their pawes drench his black soule in hell.   1. Yours my Lord Cardinall, you should have saide.        Now they strangle him.   So, pluck amaine,   He is hard hearted, therfore pull with violence.   Come take him away.Exeunt

[Scene xxi]

Enter Duke Dumayn reading of a letter, with others.

   DUMAINE. 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

[Scene xxii]

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

   KING. Brother of Navarre, I sorrow much,   That ever I was prov'd your enemy,   And that the sweet and princely minde you beare,   Was ever troubled with injurious warres:   I vow as I am lawfull King of France,   To recompence your reconciled love,   With all the honors and affections,   That ever I vouchsafte my dearest freends.   NAVARRE. It is enough if that Navarre may be   Esteemed faithfull to the King of France:   Whose service he may still commaund to death.   KING. Thankes to my Kingly Brother of Navarre.   Then there wee'l lye before Lutetia's 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.

   MESSENGER. And it please your Majestie heere is a Frier of the   order of the Jacobins, sent from the President of Paris, that   craves accesse unto your grace.   KING. Let him come in.

Enter Frier with a Letter.

   EPERNOUNE. 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.   KING. Then come thou neer, and tell what newes thou bringst.   FRIER. My Lord,   The President of Paris greetes your grace,   And sends his dutie by these speedye lines,   Humblye craving your gracious reply.   KING. Ile read them Frier, and then Ile answere thee.   FRIER. Sancte Jacobus, now have mercye on me.        He stabs the King with a knife as he readeth the letter, and        then the King getteth the knife and killes him.   EPERNOUNE. O my Lord, let him live a while.   KING. No, let the villaine dye, and feele in hell,   Just torments for his trechery.   NAVARRE. What, is your highnes hurt?   KING. Yes Navarre, but not to death I hope.   NAVARRE. God shield your grace from such a sodaine death:   Goe call a surgeon hether strait.

[Exit attendant.]

   KING. What irreligeous Pagans partes be these,   Of such as horde them of the holy church?   Take hence that damned villaine from my sight.

[Exeunt attendants with body]

   EPERNOUNE. Ah, had your highnes let him live,   We might have punisht him for his deserts.   KING. Sweet Epernoune all Rebels under heaven,   Shall take example by his punishment,   How they beare armes against their soveraigne.   Goe call the English Agent hether strait,   Ile send my sister England newes of this,   And give her warning of her trecherous foes.

[Enter Surgeon.]

   NAVARRE. Pleaseth your grace to let the Surgeon search your wound.   KING. The wound I warrant you is deepe my Lord,   Search Surgeon and resolve me what thou seest.        The Surgeon searcheth.

Enter the English Agent.

   Agent for England, send thy mistres word,   What this detested Jacobin hath done.   Tell her for all this that I hope to live,   Which if I doe, the Papall Monarck goes   To wrack, an antechristian kingdome falles.   These bloudy hands shall teare his triple Crowne,   And fire accursed Rome about his eares.   Ile fire his erased buildings and incense   The papall towers to kisse the holy earth.   Navarre, give me thy hand, I heere do sweare,   To ruinate this wicked Church of Rome,   That hatcheth up such bloudy practices.   And heere protest eternall love to thee,   And to the Queene of England especially,   Whom God hath blest for hating Popery.   NAVARRE. These words revive my thoughts and comfort me,   To see your highnes in this vertuous minde.   KING. Tell me Surgeon, shall I live?   SURGEON. 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?   EPERNOUNE. O that that damned villaine were alive againe,   That we might torture him with some new found death.   BARTUS. He died a death too good, the devill of hell   Torture his wicked soule.   KING. Oh curse him not since he is dead.   O the fatall poyson workes within my brest,   Tell me Surgeon and flatter not, may I live?   SURGEON. Alas my Lord, your highnes cannot live.   NAVARRE. Surgeon, why saist thou so? the King may live.   KING. Oh no Navarre, thou must be King of France.   NAVARRE. Long may you live, and still be King of France.   EPERNOUNE. 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.   Now let the house of Bourbon weare the crowne,   And may it never end in bloud as mine hath done.   Weep not sweet Navarre, but revenge my death.   Ah Epernoune, is this thy love 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 loves me not the best that sheds most teares,   But he that makes most lavish of his bloud.   Fire Paris where these trecherous rebels lurke.   I dye Navarre, come beare me to my Sepulchre.   Salute the Queene of England in my name,   And tell her Henry dyes her faithfull freend.        He dyes.   NAVARRE. Come Lords, take up the body of the King,   That we may see it honourably interde:   And then I vow so to revenge his death,   That Rome and all those popish Prelates there,   Shall curse the time that ere Navarre 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.        FINIS