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.
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.