The Massacre at Paris by Christopher Marlowe, Arthur Henry Bullen
Scene Xxiv
DRUMS AND TRUMPETS
[Enter King Henry, the King of Navarre, Epernoun, Bartus, Pleshè, Soldiers, and Attendants.]
HENRY Brother of Navarre, I sorrow much That ever I was prov'd your enemy, And that the sweet and princely mind you bear Was ever troubled with injurious wars. I vow, as I am lawful king of France, To recompense your reconcilèd love, With all the honours and affections That ever I vouchsaf'd my dearest friends.
NAV It is enough if that Navarre may be Esteemèd faithful to the king of France, Whose service he may still command till death.
HENRY Thanks to my kingly brother of Navarre. Then here we'll lie before Lutetia-walls, Girting this strumpet city with our siege, Till, surfeiting with our afflicting arms, She cast her hateful stomach to the earth.
[Enter a Messenger.]
MES. An it please your majesty, here is a friar of the order of the Jacobins, sent from the President of Paris, that craves access unto your grace.
HENRY Let him come in. [Exit Mess.
[Enter Friar, with a letter.]
EPER I like not this friar's look: 'Twere not amiss, my lord, if he were search'd.
HENRY Sweet Epernoun, our friars are holy men. And will not offer violence to their king For all the wealth and treasure of the world.— Friar, thou dost acknowledge me thy king?
FRI I, my good lord, and will die therein.
HENRY Then come thou near, and tell what news thou bring'st.
FRI My lord, The President of Paris greets your grace, And sends his duty by these speedy lines, GIVES LETTER g your gracious reply. [Gives letter.
HENRY I'll read them, friar, and then I'll answer thee.
FRI Sancte Jacobe, now have mercy upon me! [Stabs the king with a knife, as he reads the letter; and then the king gets the knife, and kills him.
EPER O my lord, let him live a while!
HENRY No, let the villain die, and feel in hell Just torments for his treachery.
NAV What, is your highness hurt?
HENRY Yes, Navarre; but not to death, I hope.
NAV God shield your grace from such a sudden death!— Go call a surgeon hither straight. [Exit an Attendant.
HENRY What irreligious pagans' parts be these, Of such as hold them of the holy church! Take hence that damnèd villain from my sight. [Attendants carry out the Friar's body.
EPER Ah, had your highness let him live, We might have punish'd him to his deserts!
HENRY Sweet Epernoun, all rebels under heaven Shall take example by his punishment, How they bear arms against their sovereign.— Go call the English agent hither straight: [Exit an Attendant. I'll send my sister England news of this, And give her warning of her treacherous foes.
[Enter a Surgeon.]
NAV Pleaseth your grace to let the surgeon search your wound?
HENRY The wound, I warrant ye, is deep, my lord.— Search, surgeon, and resolve me what thou see'st. [The Surgeon searches the wound.
[Enter the English Agent.]
Agent for England, send thy mistress word What this detested Jacobin hath done. Tell her, for all this, that I hope to live; Which if I do, the papal monarch goes To wreck, and antichristian kingdom falls: These bloody hands shall tear his triple crown, And fire accursèd Rome about his ears; I'll fire his crazèd buildings, and enforce The papal towers to kiss the lowly earth. Navarre, give me thy hand: I here do swear To ruinate that wicked Church of Rome, That hatcheth up such bloody practices; And here protest eternal love to thee, And to the Queen of England specially, Whom God hath bless'd for hating papistry.
NAV These words revive my thoughts, and comfort me, To see your highness in this virtuous mind.
HENRY Tell me, surgeon, shall I live?
SURG Alas, my lord, the wound is dangerous, For you are stricken with a poison'd knife!
HENRY A poison'd knife! what, shall the French king die, Wounded and poison'd both at once?
EPER O, that That damnèd villain were alive again, That we might torture him with some new-found death!
BAR He died a death too good: The devil of hell torture his wicked soul!
HENRY Ah, curse him not, sith he is dead!— O, the fatal poison works within my breast!— Tell me, surgeon, and flatter not—may I live?
SURG Alas, my lord, your highness cannot live!
NAV Surgeon, why say'st thou so? the king may live.
HENRY O no, Navarre! thou must be king of France.
NAV Long may you live, and still be king of France!
EPER Or else, die Epernoun!
HENRY Sweet Epernoun, thy king must die.—My lords, Fight in the quarrel of this valiant prince, For he's your lawful king, and my next heir; Valois's line ends in my tragedy. Now let the house of Bourbon wear the crown; And may it ne'er end in blood as mine hath done!— Weep not, sweet Navarre, but revenge my death.— Ah, Epernoun, is this thy love to me? Henry, thy king, wipes off these childish tears, And bids thee whet thy sword on Sixtus' bones, That it may keenly slice the Catholics. He loves me not [the most ] that sheds most tears, But he that makes most lavish of his blood. Fire Paris, where these treacherous rebels lurk.— I die, Navarre: come bear me to my sepulchre. Salute the Queen of England in my name, And tell her Henry dies her faithful friend. [Dies.
NAV Come, lords, take up the body of the king, That we may see it honourably interr'd: And then I vow so to revenge his death, As Rome, and all these popish prelates there, Shall curse the time that e'er Navarre was king, And ruled in France by Henry's fatal death. [They march out, with the body of King Henry lying on four men's shoulders, with a dead march, drawing weapons on the ground.