The bataille at paris monologue article

A monologue from the play by Captain christopher Marlowe

NOTE: This monologue is published from Masterpieces of the British Drama. Ed. William Lyon Phelps. New York: American Book Firm, 1912.

DUKE OF GUISE: Now, Fabrication, begin those deep-engender\d thoughts

To burst open abroad these never-dying flames

Which can not be extinguished nevertheless by blood vessels.

Oft have got I levell\d, and at last have learn\d

That peril is the chiefest way to happiness

And resolution honour\s fairest goal.

What glory is there within a common very good

That hangs for every typical to achieve?

That like We best, that flies beyond my reach.

Set me to scale the substantial Pyramides

And thereon collection the diadem of Italy

I\ll either rend this with my own nails to naught

Or perhaps mount the most notable with my aspiring wings

Although my own downfall become the greatest hell.

For this I wake, when others think I sleep

In this I wait, that scorn attendance different

For this, my personal quenchless being thirsty, whereon I build

Hath often pleaded kindred for the king

Just for this, this mind, this heart, this hand, and sword

Contrives, imagines, and fully executes

Issues of import aimed at by many

Yet realized by probably none

For this, hath heaven engender\d me of earth

With this, this earth sustains my body\s excess weight

And with this fat I\ll counterpoise a crown

Or with seditions tired all the globe

For this, from Spain the stately Catholics

Send Indian gold to coin me French ecues

For this, have I a largess through the Pope

A pension, and a dispensation too

And by that privilege to job upon

My policy hath fram\d religion.

Religion! O Diabole!

Fie, My spouse and i am asham\d, however which i seem

To consider a word on this simple sound

Of so excellent matter needs to be made the ground!

The delicate king, in whose pleasure uncontroll\d

Weakeneth his body, and can waste his realm

Merely repair not really what he ruinates

Him, as a child, My spouse and i daily earn with words

So that pertaining to proof this individual barely contains the term

I do, and this individual sustains the responsibility.

The Mother-Queen works wonders to get my sake

And in my love entombs the hope of France

Rifling the feces of her treasury

To offer my wants and need.

Paris hath full five-hundred colleges

As monasteries, priories, abbeys, and halls

In which are 25 thousand in a position men

Besides a thousand sturdy student Catholics

And more, of my knowledge, in one cloister keep

Five-hundred fat Franciscan friars and priests:

All of this, and more, in the event that more may be compris\d

To bring the will of our desires to end.

Then, Fabrication

Since thou hast all of the cards inside thy hands

To shuffle or slice, take this as surest issue

That, correct or incorrect, thou deal thyself a king.

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