Front Page Titles (by Subject) SCENE IX. - The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 2
SCENE IX. - Christopher Marlowe, The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 2 
The Works of Christopher Marlowe, ed. A.H. Bullen (London: John C. Nimmo, 1885). Vol. 2.
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EnterRamus, in his study.
- What fearful cries come from the river Seine.
- That fright poor Ramus sitting at his book!
- I fear the Guisians have pass'd the bridge,
- And mean once more to menace me.
- Fly, Ramus, fly, if thou wilt save thy life!
- Tell me, Talæus, wherefore should I fly?
- The Guisians are
- Hark at thy door, and mean to murder us:
- Hark, hark, they come! I'll leap out at the window.
- Sweet TalÆus, stay.
- 'Tis TalÆus, Ramus' bedfellow.
- I am, as Ramus is, a Christian.
- O, let him go; he is a Catholic.
- Come, Ramus, more gold, or thou shalt have the stab.
- Alas, I am a scholar! how should I have gold?
- All that I have is but my stipend from the king,
- Which is no sooner receiv'd but it is spent.
- EnterGuise, Anjou, Dumaine, Mountsorrell, and Soldiers.
- 'Tis Ramus, the king's Professor of Logic.
- O, good my lord,
- Wherein hath Ramus been so offensious?
- Marry, sir, in having a smack in all,
- And yet didst never sound anything to the depth.
- Was it not thou that scoff'dst the Organon,
- And said it was a heap of vanities?
- He that will be a flat dichotomist,
- And seen in nothing but epitomes,
- Is in your judgment thought a learnèd man;
- And he, forsooth, must go and preach in Germany,
- Excepting against doctors' axioms,
- And ipse dixi with this quiddity,
- Argumentum testimonii est inartificiale.
- To contradict which, I say, Ramus shall die:
- How answer you that? your nego argumentum
- Cannot serve, sirrah.—Kill him.
- “Argumentum testmonii est inartificiale.”
- O, good my lord, let me but speak a word!
- Not for my life do I desire this pause;
- But in my latter hour to purge myself,
- In that I know the things that I have wrote,
- Which, as I hear, one Scheckius takes it ill,
- Because my places, being but three, contain all his.
- I knew the Organon to be confus'd,
- And I reduc'd it into better form:
- And this for Aristotle will I say,
- That he that despiseth him can ne'er
- Be good in logic or philosophy;
- And that's because the blockish Sorbonnists
- Attribute as much unto their [own] works
- As to the service of the eternal God.
- Why suffer you that peasant to declaim?
- Stab him, I say, and send him to his friends in hell.
- Ne'er was there collier's son so full of pride.
- [StabsRamus, who dies.
- My Lord of Anjou, there are a hundred Protestants
- Which we have chased into the river Seine,
- That swim about, and so preserve their lives:
- How may we do? I fear me they will live.
- Go place some men upon the bridge,
- With bows and darts, to shoot at them they see,
- And sink them in the river as they swim.
- 'Tis well advis'd, Dumaine; go see it straight be done.
- And in the meantime, my lord, could we devise
- To get those pedants from the King Navarre,
- That are tutors to him and the Prince of Condè—
- For that, let me alone: cousin, stay you here,
- And when you see me in, then follow hard.
- Anjouknocketh at the door: and enter theKingofNavarreand thePrinceofCondè,with their two Schoolmasters.
- How now, my lords! how fare you?
- My lord, they say
- That all the Protestants are massacred.
- Ay, so they are; but yet, what remedy?
- I have done what I could to stay this broil.
- But yet, my lord, the report doth run
- That you were one that made this massacre.
- Who, I? you are deceiv'd; I rose but now.
- [Guiseand the others come forward from the back of the stage.
- Murder the Huguenots! take those pedants hence!
- Thou traitor, Guise, lay off thy bloody hands!
- Come, let us go tell the king.
- [Exit with theKingofNavarre.
- Come, sirs,
- I'll whip you to death with my poniard's point.
- [Stabs the Schoolmasters, who die.
- Away with them both!
- [ExeuntAnjouand Soldiers with the bodies.
- And now, sirs, for this night let our fury stay.
- Yet will we not that the massacre shall end:
- Gonzago, post you to Orleans,
- Retes to Dieppe, Mountsorrell unto Rouen,
- And spare not one that you suspect of heresy.
- And now stay
- That bell, that to the devil's matins rings.
- Now every man put off his burgonet,
- And so convey him closely to his bed.