Queen. Nay, to my death, for too long have I lived,

Whenas my son thinks to abridge my days.

King. Away with her, her words enforce these tears,

And I shall pity her if she speak again. Queen. Shall I not mourn for my beloved lord,

And with the rest accompany him to his grave?

Lord. Thus, madam, 'tis the king's will you shall hence.

Queen. He hath forgotten me; stay, I am his mother.

Lord. That boots not; therefore, gentle madam, go.

Queen. Then come, sweet death, and rid me of this grief. [Exit.

Re-enter a Lord, with the head of
Mortimer.

Lord. My lord, here is the head of
Mortimer.

King. Go fetch my father's hearse, where it shall lie ;

And bring my funeral robes. Accursed head,

Could I have ruled thee then, as I do now, Thou had'st not hatched this monstrous treachery.

Here comes the hearse; help me to mourn, my lords.

Sweet father, here unto thy murdered ghost
I offer up this wicked traitor's head;
And let these tears, distilling from mine eyes,
Be witness of my grief and innocency.

[Exeunt,

ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. Enter Charles, the French King; the Queen Mother; King of Navarre; Margaret; the Prince of Condé; the Lord High Admiral; the Old Queen of Navarre, and others.

Char. Prince of Navarre, my honourable
brother,

Prince Condé, and my good Lord Admiral,
I wish this union and religious league,
Knit in these hands, thus joined in nuptial
rites,

May not dissolve, till death dissolve our lives

And that the native sparks of princely love, That kindled first this motion in our hearts, May still be fuelled in our progeny.

Nav. The many favours which your grace hath shown,

From time to time, but specially in this,
Shall bind me ever to your highness' will,
In what Queen Mother or your grace com-
mands.

Q. Mo. Thanks, son Navarre; you see we love you well,

That link you in marriage with our daughter here;

And, as you know, our difference in religion

Might be a means to cross you in your love

Char. Well, madam, let that rest.—

And now, my lords, the marriage rites:
We think it good to go and consummate
performed,
The rest with hearing of an holy mass.
Sister, I think yourself will bear us company.
Mar. I will, my good lord.

Char. The rest that will not go, my lords,. may stay.

Come, mother, let us go to honour this solemnity.

Q. Mo. Which I'll dissolve with blood! and cruelty.

[Aside. [Exeunt all but Navarre, Condé, and the Lord High Admiral. Nav. Prince Condé and my good Lord Admiral,

Now Guise may storm, but do us little hurt,

Having the king-Queen Mother on our sides

To stop the malice of his envious heart, That seeks to murder all the Protestants. Have you not heard of late, how he decreed (If that the king had given consent thereto,) That all the Protestants that are in Paris

Adm. My lord, I marvel that the aspiring Guise,

Dares once adventure, without the king's assent,

To meddle or attempt such dangerous things.

Con. My lord, you need not marvel at the
Guise,

For what he doth the Pope will ratify,
In murder, mischief, or in tyranny.

Nav. But he that sits and rules above the clouds

Doth hear and see the prayers of the just, And will revenge the blood of innocents, That Guise hath slain by treason of his heart,

And brought by murder to their timeless ends.

Adm. My lord, but did you mark the cardinal,

The Guise's brother, and the Duke Dumaine, How they did storm at these your nuptial rites,

Because the house of Bourbon now comes in,

And joins your lineage to the crown of France?

Nav. And that's the cause that Guise so frowns at us,

And beats his brains to catch us in his trap, Which he hath pitched within his deadly toil. Come, my lords, let's go to the church and pray

That God may still defend the right of France,

And make His Gospel flourish in this land.

Guise.

Guise. Now, Guise, begin those deepengendered thoughts

To burst abroad those never-dying flames, Which cannot be extinguished but by blood.

Oft have I levelled, and at last have learned
That peril is the chiefest way to happiness
And resolution, honour's fairest aim.
What glory is there in a common good,
That hangs for every peasant to achieve?
That like I best, that flies beyond my

reach.

Set me to scale the high Pyramides,

And thereon set the diadem of France; I'll either rend it with my nails to naught, Or mount the top with my aspiring wings, Although my downfall be the deepest hell. For this, I wake, when others think I sleep For this, I wait, that scorn attendance else For this, my quenchless thirst, whereon build,

Hath often pleaded kindred to the king;

sword,

Contrives, imagines, fully executes
Matters of import aimed at by many,
Yet understood by none.

For this, hath heaven engendered me of earth;

For this, the earth sustains my body's weight;

And with this weight I'll counterpoise a

crown,

Or with seditions weary all the world.
For this, from Spain the stately Catholic
Sends Indian gold to coin me French ecus;
For this, have I a largess from the Pope;
A pension, and a dispensation too;
And by that privilege to work upon,
My policy had framed religion.
Religion! O Diabole!

Fie, I am ashamed, however that I seem,
To think a word of such a simple sound,
Of so great matter should be made the
ground.

The gentle king, whose pleasure uncontrolled

Weakeneth his body, and will waste his realm,

If I repair not what he ruinates,----
Him, as a child, I daily win with words,
So that for proof he barely bears the

name:

I execute, and he sustains the blame.

The Mother-Queen works wonders for my sake,

And in my love entombs the hope of
France;

Rifling the bowels of her treasury,
To supply my wants and necessity.
Paris hath full five hundred colleges,

As monasteries, priories, abbeys, and halls,
Wherein are thirty thousand able men,
Besides a thousand sturdy student Catholics:
And more, of my knowledge, in one
cloister keep

Five hundred fat Franciscan friars and priests.

All this, and more, if more may be comprised,

Do bring the will of our desires to end.
Then, Guise,

Since thou hast all the cards within thy hands,

To shuffle or cut, take this as surest thing, That, right or wrong, thou deal'st thyself a king.

Aye, but Navarre,-'tis but a nook of
France,

Sufficient yet for such a petty king,
That with a rabblement of his heretics

estate.

Him will we- [Pointing to his sword.
But first let's follow those in France,
That hinder our possession to the crown.
As Cæsar to his soldiers, so say I ;
Those that hate me will I learn to loathe.
Give me a look, that when I bend the brows,
Pale death may walk in furrows of my face:
A hand, that with a grasp may gripe the
world:

An ear to hear what my detractors say;
A royal seat, a sceptre, and a crown,
That those which do behold them may be-

come

As men that stand and gaze against the sun. The plot is laid, and things shall come to pass,

Where resolution strives for victory. [Exit.

SCENE III.

Enter the King of Navarre, Margaret, the Old Queen of Navarre, the Prince of Condé, and the Admiral. They are met by the Apothecary, with the gloves, which he gives to the Old Queen. Apoth. Madam,

I beseech your grace to accept this simple gift.

Old Queen. Thanks, my good friend; hold, take thou this reward.

Apoth. I humbly thank your majesty.

[Exit.

Old Queen. Methinks the gloves have a very strong perfume,

The scent whereof doth make my head to ache.

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

Old Queen. Not well, but do remember such a man.

Adm. Your grace was ill-advised to take them then,

Considering of these dangerous times.

Old Queen. Help, son Navarre! I am poisoned !

Mar. The heavens forbid your highness such mishap!

Nav. The late suspicion of the Duke of Guise

Might well have moved your highness to be

ware

How you did meddle with such dangerous gifts.

Mar. Too late it is, my lord, if that be true,

To blame her highness; but I hope it be Only some natural passion makes her sick.

Old Queen. Oh! no, sweet Margaret; the fatal poison

Worketh within my heart; my brain-pan breaks;

My heart doth faint; I die!

[Dies. Nav. My mother poisoned here before my face!

Oh gracious God, what times are these! Oh, grant, sweet God, my days may end with hers,

That I with her may die, and live again.

Mar. Let not this heavy chance, my dearest lord,

(For whose effects my soul is massacred) Infect thy gracious breast with fresh supply, To aggravate our sudden misery.

Adm. Come, my lords, let us bear her body hence,

And see it honoured with just solemnity.

[As they are going the Soldier discharges his musket at the Admiral. Con. What, are you hurt, my Lord High Admiral?

Adm. Ay, my good lord, shot through the arm.

Nav. We are betrayed! come, my lords, and let us

Go tell the king of this.

Adm. These are the cursed Guisians, that do seek our death.

Oh! fatal was this marriage to us all!

[They bear away the Queen's body, and exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Enter King Charles, Queen Mother, Guise, Anjou, and Dumaine.

Q. Mo. My noble son, and princely Duke of Guise,

Now have we got the fatal straggling deer,
Within the compass of a deadly toil;
And as we late decreed, we may perform.
Char. Madam, it will be noted through
the world,

An action bloody and tyrannical;
Chiefly, since under safety of our word
They justly challenge their protection.
Besides, my heart relents that noble men,
Only corrupted in religion,

Ladies of honour, knights, and gentlemen, Should, for their conscience, taste such ruthless ends.

Anj. Though gentle minds should pity other's pains,

Yet will the wisest note their proper griefs; And rather seek to scourge their enemies, Than be themselves base subjects to the whip.

And to my nephew here, the Duke of Guise: What you determine I will ratify.

Q. Mo. Thanks to my princely son. Then tell me, Guise,

What order will you set down for the massacre?

Guise. Thus, madam :

They that shall be actors in this massacre, Shall wear white crosses on their burgonets, And tie white linen scarfs about their arms. He that wants these, and is suspect of heresy, Shall die, be he king or emperor. Then I'll have

A peal of ordnance shot from the tower, at which

They all shall issue out, and 'set the streets; And then

The watchword being given, a bell shall ring, Which when they hear, they shall begin to kill,

And never cease until that bell shall cease; Then breathe awhile.

Enter the Admiral's Serving Man. Char. How now, fellow, what news? Serv. M. An it please your grace, the Lord High Admiral,

Riding the streets, was traitorously shot;
And most humbly entreats your majesty
To visit him, sick in his bed.

Char. Messenger, tell him I will see him straight [Exit Serv. Man. What shall we do now with the Admiral? Q. Mo. Your majesty had best go visit him, And make a show as if all were well.

Char. Content; I will go visit the Admiral. Guise. And I will go take order for his death. [Exeunt.