Page:The Massacre at Paris - Marlowe (1600).pdf/41

 I love your Minions, dote on them your selfe, I know none els but holdes them in disgrace: And heer by all the Saints in heaven I sweare, That villain for whom I beare this deep disgrace: Even for your words that have incenst me so, Shall buy that strumpets favour with his blood. Whether he have dishonoured me or no. Par la mor du, Il mora.

King. Beleeve me this jest bites sore.

Eper. My Lord, twere good to make them frends For his othes are seldome spent in vaine.

King. How now Mugeroun, metst thou not the Guise at the doore?

Muge. Not I my Lord, what if I had?

King. Marry if thou hadst, thou mightst have had the stab, For he hath solemnely sworne thy death.

Muge. I may be stabd, and live till he be dead, But wherfore beares he me such deadly hate?

King. Because his wife beares thee such kindely love.

Muge. If that be all, the next time that I meet her, Ile make her shake off love with her heeles. But which way is he gone, Ile goe take a walk on purpose from the Court to meet with him.

King. I like not this, come Epernoune lets goe seek the Duke and make them freends.