Front Page Titles (by Subject) SCENE XXIV. - The Works of Christopher Marlowe, vol. 2
SCENE XXIV. - 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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Drums and Trumpets. EnterKing Henry, theKing Of Navarre, Epernoun, Bartus, Pleshè, Soldiers, and Attendants.
- 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.
- It is enough if that Navarre may be
- Esteemèd faithful to the king of France,
- Whose service he may still command till death.
- 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.
- 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.
- Let him come in.
- [Exit Mess.
- Enter Friar, with a letter.
- I like not this friar's look:
- 'Twere not amiss, my lord, if he were search'd.
- 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?
- Ay, my good lord, and will die therein.
- Then come thou near, and tell what news thou bring'st.
- My lord,
- The President of Paris greets your grace,
- And sends his duty by these speedy lines,
- Humbly craving your gracious reply.
- [Gives letter
- I'll read them, friar, and then I'll answer thee.
- 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.
- O my lord, let him live a while!
- No, let the villain die, and feel in hell
- Just torments for his treachery.
- What, is your highness hurt?
- Yes, Navarre; but not to death, I hope.
- God shield your grace from such a sudden death!—
- Go call a surgeon hither straight. [Exit an Attendant.
- 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.
- Ah, had your highness let him live,
- We might have punish'd him to his deserts!
- 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.
- Pleaseth your grace to let the surgeon search your wound?
- 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.
- These words revive my thoughts, and comfort me.
- To see your highness in this virtuous mind.
- Tell me, surgeon, shall I live?
- Alas, my lord, the wound is dangerous,
- For you are stricken with a poison'd knife!
- A poison'd knife! what, shall the French king die,
- Wounded and poison'd both at once?
- O, that
- That damnèd villain were alive again,
- That we might torture him with some new-found death
- He died a death too good:
- The devil of hell torture his wicked soul!
- Ah, curse him not, sith he is dead!—
- O, the fatal poison works within my breast!—
- Alas, my lord, your highness cannot live!
- Surgeon, why say'st thou so? the king may live.
- O no, Navarre! thou must be king of France,
- Long may you live, and still be king of France!
- 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.
- 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 those 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 ofKing Henrylying on four men's shoulders, with a dead march, drawing weapons on the ground.
THE TRAGEDY OF DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE.
Dido was published in 1594, with the following title —
The Tragedie of Dido Queene of Carthage Played by the Children of her Maiesties Chappell. Written by Christopher Marlowe and Thomas Nash, Gent.
|Mercurie, or Hermes.||Iarbas.|
At London, Printed, by the Widdowe Orwin, for Thomas Wooa-cocke, and are to be sold at his shop, in Paules Churchyeard, at the signe of the blacke Beare.
A copy of this edition is in the Bodleian Library; and I am indebted to my friend Mr. C. H Firth for kindly comparing Dyce's text with the text of the Bodleian copy.
- Ascanius, his son.
- Other Trojans.
- Carthaginian Lords.
- Anna, her sister.
THE TRAGEDY OF DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE.
- “I'll fire thy crazèd buildings, and enforce
- The papal towers to kiss the lowly ground.”