Christopher Marlowe - The Ma**acre at Paris SCENE 21. lyrics

Enter Duke Dumayn reading of a letter, with others. Dunaine. My noble brother murthered by the King, Oh what may I doe, to revenge thy d**h? 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 d**h, 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 d**h. 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 d**h. DUMAINE. My brother Cardenall slaine and I alive? O wordes of power to k** a thousand men. Come let us away and leavy men, Tis warre that must a**wage 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 k** 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.