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diff --git a/35330.txt b/35330.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b54e09 --- /dev/null +++ b/35330.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4549 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spanish Tragedy, by Thomas Kyd + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Spanish Tragedy + +Author: Thomas Kyd + +Release Date: February 19, 2011 [EBook #35330] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPANISH TRAGEDY *** + + + + +Produced by Richard Schwarz + + + + + + + + + +THE SPANISH TRAGEDY + +1587 + +By Thomas Kyd + + + + +Containing the lamentable end of DON HORATIO, and BEL-IMPERIA: +with the pitiful death of old HIERONIMO. + + +Newly corrected and amended of such gross faults as passed in the +first impression. + +At London + +Printed by Edward Allde, for + +Edward White + + + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE. + + GHOST OF ANDREA | + REVENGE | the Chorus. + KING OF SPAIN. + VICEROY OF PORTUGAL. + DON PEDRO, the viceroy's brother. + DON CIPRIAN, duke of Castile. + HIERONIMO, knight-marshall of Spain. + BALTHAZAR, the Viceroy's son. + LORENZO, Don Ciprian's son [and Bel-imperia's brother]. + HORATIO, Hieronimo's son. + ALEXANDRO | + VILLUPPO | lords of Portugal. + PEDRINGANO, servant of Bel-imperia. + SERBERINE, servant of Balthazar. + Spanish General, Portuguese Ambassador, + Hangman, Soldiers, Attendants, &c. + BEL-IMPERIA, Lorenzo's sister. + ISABELLA, Hieronimo's wife. + PAGE. + MESSENGER. + CHRISTOPHEL. + SERVANT. + SENEX (DON BAZULTO). + CITIZENS. + + +SCENE: Spain; and Portugal. + + + + + +ACTVS PRIMVS. + + + + +[Prologue] + + Enter the GHOST OF ANDREA, and with him REVENGE. + + GHOST. When this eternal substance of my soul + Did live imprison'd in my wanton flesh, + Each in their function serving others' need, + I was a courtier in the Spanish court: + My name was Don Andrea; my descent, + Though not ignoble, yet inferior far + To gracious fortunes of my tender youth, + For there, in prime and pride of all my years, + By duteous service and deserving love, + In secret I possess'd a worthy dame, + Which hight sweet Bel-imperia by name. + But in the harvest of my summer joys + Death's winter nipped the blossoms of my bliss, + Forcing divorce betwixt my love and me; + For in the late conflict with Portingal + My valour drew me into danger's mouth + Till life to death made passage through my wounds. + When I was slain, my soul descended straight + To pass the flowing stream of Acheron; + But churlish Charon, only boatman there, + Said that, my rites of burial not perform'd, + I might not sit amongst his passengers. + Ere Sol had slept three nights in Thetis' lap, + And slak'd his smoking chariot in her flood, + By Don Horatio, our knight-marshall's son, + My funerals and obsequies were done. + Then was the ferryman of hell content + To pass me over to the slimy strand + That leads to fell Avernus' ugly waves. + There, pleasing Cerberus with honeyed speech, + I passed the perils of the foremost porch. + Not far from hence, amidst ten thousand souls, + Sat Minos, Eacus and Rhadamant; + To whom no sooner 'gan I make approach, + To crave a passport for my wandering ghost, + But Minos in graven leaves of lottery + Drew forth the manner of my life and death. + "This knight," quoth he, "both liv'd and died in love; + And for his love tried fortune of the wars; + And by war's fortune lost both love and life." + "Why then," said Eacus, "convey him hence + To walk with lovers in our field of love + And the course of everlasting time + Under green myrtle-trees and cypress shades." + "No, no!" said Rhadamant, "it were not well + With loving souls to place a martialist. + He died in war, and must to martial fields, + Where wounded Hector lives in lasting pain, + And Achilles' Myrmidons do scour the plain." + Then Minos, mildest censor of the three, + Made this device, to end the difference: + "Send him," quoth he, "to our infernal king, + To doom him as best seems his Majesty." + To this effect my passport straight was drawn. + In keeping on my way to Pluto's court + Through dreadful shades of ever-glooming night, + I saw more sights than thousand tongues can tell + Or pens can write or mortal hearts can think. + Three ways there were: that on the right hand side + Was ready way unto the 'foresaid fields + Where lovers live and bloody martialists, + But either sort contain'd within his bounds; + The left hand path, declining fearfully, + Was ready downfall to the deepest hell, + Where bloody Furies shake their whips of steel, + And poor Ixion turns an endless wheel, + Where usurers are chok'd with melting gold, + And wantons are embrac'd with ugly snakes, + And murderers groan with never-killing wounds, + And perjur'd wights scalded in boiling lead, + And all foul sins with torments overwhelm'd; + 'Twixt these two ways I trod the middle path, + Which brought me to the fair Elysian green, + In midst whereof there stands a stately tower, + The walls of brass, the gates of adamant. + Here finding Pluto with his Proserpine, + I show'd my passport, humbled on my knee. + Whereat fair Proserpine began to smile, + And begg'd that only she might give me doom. + Pluto was pleas'd, and seal'd it with a kiss. + Forthwith, Revenge, she rounded thee in th' ear, + And bad thee lead me though the gates of horn, + Where dreams have passage in the silent night. + No sooner had she spoke but we were here, + I wot not how, in the twinkling of an eye. + + REVENGE. Then know, Andrea, that thou arriv'd + Where thou shalt see the author of thy death, + Don Balthazar, the prince of Portingal, + Depriv'd of life by Bel-imperia: + Here sit we down to see the mystery, + And serve for Chorus in this tragedy. + + + +[ACT I. SCENE 1.] + [The Spanish Court] + + Enter SPANISH KING, GENERAL, CASTILLE, HIERONIMO. + + KING. Now say, lord general: how fares our camp? + + GEN. All well, my sovereign liege, except some few + That are deceas'd by fortune of the war. + + KING. But what portends thy cheerful countenance + And posting to our presence thus in haste? + Speak, man: hath fortune given us victory? + + GEN. Victory, my liege, and that with little loss. + + KING. Our Portugals will pay us tribute then? + + GEN. Tribute, and wonted homage therewithal. + + KING. Then blest be Heav'n, and Guider of the heav'ns, + From whose fair influence such justice flows! + + CAST. O multum dilecte Deo, tibi militat aether, + Et conjuratae curvato poplite gentes + Succumbunt: recti soror est victoria juris! + + KING. Thanks to my loving brother of Castille. + But, general, unfold in brief discourse + Your form of battle and your war's success, + That, adding all the pleasure of thy news + Unto the height of former happiness, + With deeper wage and gentle dignity + We may reward thy blissful chivalry. + + GEN. Where Spain and Portingal do jointly knit + Their frontiers, leaning on each other's bound, + There met our armies in the proud array: + Both furnish'd well, both full of hope and fear, + Both menacing alike with daring shows, + Both vaunting sundry colours of device, + Both cheerly sounding trumpets, drums and fifes, + Both raising dreadful clamors to the sky, + That valleys, hills, and rivers made rebound + And heav'n itself was frighted with the sound. + Our battles both were pitch'd in squadron form, + Each corner strongly fenc'd with wings of shot; + But, ere we join'd and came to push of pike, + I brought a squadron of our readiest shot + From out our rearward to begin the fight; + They brought another wing to encounter us; + Meanwhile our ordnance play'd on either side, + And captains strove to have their valours try'd. + Don Pedro, their chief horsemen's colonel, + Did with his cornet bravely make attempt + To break the order of our battle ranks; + But Don Rogero, worthy man of war, + March'd forth against him with our musketeers + And stopp'd the malice of his fell approach. + While they maintain hot skirmish to and fro, + Both battles join and fall to handy blows, + Their violent shot resembling th' oceans rage + When, roaring loud and with a swelling tide, + It beats upon the rampiers of huge rocks, + And gapes to swallow neighbor-bounding lands. + Now, while Bellona rageth here and there, + Thick storms of bullets ran like winter's hail, + And shiver'd lances dark the troubled air; + Pede pes & cuspide cuspis, + Arma sonant armis, vir petiturque viro; + On every side drop captains to the ground, + And soldiers, some ill-maim'd, some slain outright: + Here falls a body sunder'd from his head; + There legs and arms lie bleeding on the grass, + Mingled with weapons and unbowel'd steeds, + That scattering over-spread the purple plain. + In all this turmoil, three long hours and more + The victory to neither part inclin'd, + Till Don Andrea with his brave lancers + In their main battle made so great a breach + That, half dismay'd, the multitude retir'd. + But Balthazar, the Portingales' young prince, + Brought rescue and encourag'd them to stay. + Here-hence the fight was eagerly renew'd, + And in that conflict was Andrea slain,-- + Brave man-at-arms, but weak to Balthazar. + Yet, while the prince, insulting over him, + Breath'd out proud vaunts, sounding to our reproach, + Friendship and hardy valour join'd in one + Prick'd forth Horatio, our knight-marshall's son, + To challenge forth that prince in single fight. + Not long between these twain the fight endur'd, + But straight the prince was beaten from his horse + And forc'd to yield him prisoner to his foe. + When he was taken, all the rest fled, + And our carbines pursu'd them to death, + Till, Phoebus waning to the western deep, + Our trumpeters were charg'd to sound retreat. + + KING. Thanks, good lord general, for these good news! + And, for some argument of more to come, + Take this and wear it for thy sovereign's sake. + + Give him his chain. + + But tell me now: hast thou confirm'd a peace? + + GEN. No peace, my liege, but peace conditional, + That, if with homage tribute be well paid, + The fury of your forces will be stay'd. + And to this peace their viceroy hath subscrib'd, + + Give the King a paper. + + And made a solemn vow that during life + His tribute shall be truly paid to Spain. + + KING. These words, these deeds become thy person well. + But now, knight-marshall, frolic with thy king, + For 'tis thy son that wins this battle's prize. + + HIERO. Long may he live to serve my sovereign liege! + And soon decay unless he serve my liege! + + A trumpet afar off. + + KING. Nor thou nor he shall die without reward. + What means this warning of this trumpet's sound? + + GEN. This tells me that your Grace's men of war, + Such as war's fortune hath reserv'd from death, + Come marching on towards your royal seat, + To show themselves before your Majesty; + For so gave I in charge at my depart. + Whereby by demonstration shall appear + That all, except three hundred or few more, + Are safe return'd and by their foes enrich'd. + + The army enters, BALTHAZAR between LORENZO + and HORATIO, captive. + + KING. A gladsome sight! I long to see them here. + + They enter and pass by. + + Was that the warlike prince of Portingal + That by our nephew was in triumph led? + + GEN. It was, my liege, the prince of Portingal. + + KING. But what was he that on the other side + Held him by th' arm as partner of the prize? + + HIERO. That was my son, my gracious sovereign; + Of whom though from his tender infancy + My loving thoughts did never hope but well, + He never pleasd his father's eyes till now, + Nor fill'd my heart with overcloying joys. + + KING. Go, let them march once more about these walls, + That staying them we may confer and talk + With our brave prisoner and his double guard. + + [Exit a MESSENGER.] + + Hieoronimo, it greatly pleaseth us + That in our victory thou have a share + By virtue of thy worthy son's exploit. + + Enter again. + + Bring hither the young prince of Portingal! + The rest march on, but, ere they be dismiss'd, + We will bestow on every soldier + Two ducats, and on every leader ten, + That they may know our largesse welcomes them. + + Exeunt all [the army] but BAL[THAZAR], + LOR[ENZO], and HOR[ATIO]. + + KING. Welcome, Don Balthazar! Welcome nephew! + And thou, Horatio, thou art welcome too! + Young prince, although thy father's hard misdeeds + In keeping back the tribute that he owes + Deserve but evil measure at our hands, + Yet shalt thou know that Spain is honourable. + + BALT. The trespass that my father made in peace + Is now controll'd by fortune of the wars; + And cards once dealt, it boots not ask why so. + His men are slain,--a weakening to his realm; + His colours seiz'd,--a blot unto his name; + His son distress'd,--a corsive to his heart; + These punishments may clear his late offence. + + KING. Aye, Balthazar, if he observe this truce, + Our peace will grow the stronger for these wars. + Meanwhile live thou, though not in liberty, + Yet free from bearing any servile yoke; + For in our hearing thy deserts were great. + And in our sight thyself art gracious. + + BALT. And I shall study to deserve this grace. + + KING. But tell me,--for their holding makes me doubt: + To which of these twain art thou prisoner? + + LOR. To me, my liege. + + HOR. To me, my sovereign. + + LOR. This hand first took his courser by the reins. + + HOR. But first my lance did put him from his horse. + + LOR. I seiz'd the weapon and enjoy'd it first. + + HOR. But first I forc'd him lay his weapons down. + + KING. Let go his arm, upon my privilege! + + Let him go. + + Say, worthy prince: to whether didst thou yield? + + BALT. To him in courtesy; to this perforce; + He spake me fair, this other gave me strokes; + He promis'd life, this other threaten'd death; + He won my love, this other conquer'd me; + And, truth to say, I yield myself to both. + + HIERO. But that I know your Grace is just and wise, + And might seem partial in this difference, + Enforc'd by nature and by law of arms, + My tongue should plead for young Horatio's right. + He hunted well that was a lion's death, + Not he that in a garment wore his skin; + So hares may pull dead lions by the beard. + + KING. Content thee, marshall; thou shalt have no wrong, + And for thy sake thy son shall want to right. + Will both abide the censure of my doom? + + LOR. I crave no better than your Grace awards. + + HOR. Nor I, although I sit beside my right. + + KING. Then by judgment thus your strife shall end: + You both deserve and both shall have reward. + Nephew, thou took'st his weapons and his horse: + His weapons and his horse are thy reward. + Horatio, thou did'st force him first to yield: + His ransom therefore is thy valour's fee; + Appoint the sum as you shall both agree. + But, nephew, thou shalt have the prince in guard, + For thine estate best fitteth such a guest; + Horatio's house were small for all his train. + Yet, in regard thy substance passeth his, + And that just guerdon may befall desert, + To him we yield the armour of the prince. + How likes Don Balthazar of this device? + + BALT. Right well, my liege, if this proviso were: + That Don Horatio bear us company, + Whom I admire and love for chivalry. + + KING. Horatio, leave him not that loves thee so. + Now let us hence, to see our soldiers paid, + And feast our prisoner as our friendly guest. + + Exeunt. + + + +[ACT I. SCENE 2.] + + [Portugal: the VICEROY'S palace.] + + Enter VICEROY, ALEXANDRO, VILLUPPO. + + VICE. Is our ambassador dispatch'd for Spain? + + ALEX. Two days, my liege, are past since his depart. + + VICE. And tribute payment gone along with him? + + ALEX. Aye, my good lord. + + VICE. Then rest we here a-while in our unrest; + And feed our sorrows with inward sighs, + For deepest cares break never into tears. + But wherefore sit I in a regal throne? + This better fits a wretch's endless moan. + Yet this is higher then my fortunes reach, + And therefore better than my state deserves. + + Falls to the ground. + + Aye, aye, this earth, image of melancholy, + Seeks him whom fates adjudge to misery! + Here let me lie! Now am I at the lowest! + Qui jacet in terra non habet unde cadat. + In me consumpsit vires fortuna nocendo, + Nil superest ut jam possit obesse magis. + Yes, Fortune may bereave me of my crown-- + Here, take it now; let Fortune do her worst, + She shall not rob me of this sable weed. + O, no, she envies none but pleasant things. + Such is the folly of despiteful chance, + Fortune is blind and sees not my deserts, + So is she deaf and hears not my laments; + And, could she hear, yet is she willful mad, + And therefore will not pity my distress. + Suppose that she could pity me, what then? + What help can be expected at her hands + Whose foot is standing on a rolling stone + And mind more mutable then fickle winds? + Why wail I, then, where's hope of no redress? + O, yes, complaining makes my grief seem less. + My late ambition hath distain'd my faith, + My breach of faith occasion'd bloody wars, + Those bloody wars have spent my treasury, + And with my treasury my people's blood, + And with the blood my joy and best belov'd,-- + My best belov'd, my sweet and only son! + O, wherefore went I not to war myself? + The cause was mine; I might have died for both. + My years were mellow, but his young and green: + My death were natural, but his was forc'd. + + ALEX. No doubt, my liege, but still the prince survives. + + VICE. Survives! Ay, where? + + ALEX. In Spain, a prisoner by mischance of war. + + VICE. Then they have slain him for his father's fault. + + ALEX. That were a breach to common law of arms. + + VICE. They reck no laws that meditate revenge. + + ALEX. His ransom's worth will stay from foul revenge. + + VICE. No; if he liv'd, the news would soon be here. + + VILLUP. My sovereign, pardon the author of ill news, + And I'll bewray the fortune of thy son. + + VICE. Speak on; I'll guerdon thee, whate'er it be. + Mine ear is ready to receive ill news, + My heart grown hard 'gainst mischief's battery; + Stand up, I say, and tell thy tale at large. + + VILLUP. Then hear that truth which these mine eyes have seen: + When both the armies were in battle join'd. + Don Balthazar amidst the thickest troops, + To win renown, did wondrous feats of arms; + Amongst the rest I saw him hand-to-hand + In single fight with their lord general. + Till Alexandro, that here counterfeits + Under the colour of a duteous friend, + Discharg'd a pistol at the princes back, + As though he would have slain their general, + But therewithal Don Balthazar fell down; + And when he fell, then we began to fly; + But, had he liv'd, the day had sure been ours. + + ALEX. O wicked forgery! O trait'rous miscreant! + + VICE. Hold thou thy peace! But now, Villuppo, say: + Where then became the carcass of my son? + + VILLUP. I saw them drag it to the Spanish tents. + + VICE. Aye, aye, my nightly dreams have told me this! + Thou false, unkind, unthankful, traitorous beast! + Wherein had Balthazar offended thee, + That thou should betray him to our foes? + Was't Spanish gold that bleared so thine eyes + That thou couldst see no part of our deserts? + Perchance, because thou art Terserae's lord, + Thou hadst some hope to wear this diadem + If first my son and then myself were slain; + But thy ambitious thought shall break thy neck. + Aye, this was it that made thee spill his blood! + + Takes the crown and puts it on again. + + But I'll now wear it till thy blood be spilt. + + ALEX. Vouchsafe, dread sovereign, to hear me speak! + + VICE. Away with him! his sight is second hell! + Keep him till we determine his death. + If Balthazar be dead, he shall not live. + + [They take him out.] + + Villuppo, follow us for thy reward. + + Exit VICE[ROY]. + + VILLUP. Thus have I with an envious forged tale + Deceiv'd the king, betray'd mine enemy, + And hope for guerdon of my villainy. + + + +[ACT I. SCENE 3.] + + [Spain: the palace] + + Enter HORATIO and BEL-IMPERIA. + + BEL. Signior Horatio, this is the place and hour + Wherein I must entreat thee to relate + The circumstance of Don Andrea's death, + Who living was my garland's sweetest flower, + And in his death hath buried my delights. + + HOR. For love of him and service to yourself, + I'll not refuse this heavy doleful charge; + Yet tears and sighs, I fear, will hinder me. + When both our armies were enjoin'd in fight, + Your worthy cavalier amidst the thickest, + For glorious cause still aiming at the fairest, + Was at the last by young Don Balthazar + Encounter'd hand-to-hand. Their fight was long, + Their hearts were great, their clamours menacing, + Their strength alike, their strokes both dangerous; + But wrathful Nemesis, that wicked power, + Envying at Andrea's praise and worth, + Cut short his life to end his praise and worth. + She, she herself, disguis'd in armour's mask, + As Pallas was before proud Pergamus, + Brought in a fresh supply of halberdiers, + Which punch'd his horse and ding'd him to the ground. + Then young Don Balthazar, with ruthless rage, + Taking advantage of his foe's distress, + Did finish what his halberdiers begun; + And left not till Andrea's life was done. + Then, though too late, incens'd with just remorse, + I with my band set forth against the prince, + And brought him prisoner from his halberdiers. + + BEL. Would thou hadst slain him that so slew my love! + But then was Don Andrea's carcass lost? + + HOR. No; that was it for which I chiefly strove, + Nor stepp'd I back till I recover'd him. + I took him up, and wound him in mine arms, + And, wielding him unto my private tent, + There laid him down and dew'd him with my tears, + And sigh'd and sorrow'd as became a friend. + But neither friendly sorrow, sighs and tears + Could win pale Death from his usurped right. + Yet this I did, and less I could not do: + I saw him honour'd with due funeral. + This scarf I pluck'd from off his lifeless arm, + And wear it in remembrance of my friend. + + BEL. I know the scarf: would he had kept it still! + For, had he liv'd, he would have kept it still, + And worn it for his Bel-imperia's sake; + For 'twas my favour at his last depart. + But now wear thou it both for him and me; + For, after him, thou hast deserv'd it best. + But, for thy kindness in his life and death, + Be sure, while Bel-imperia's life endures, + She will be Don Horatio's thankful friend. + + HOR. And, madame, Don Horatio will not slack + Humbly to serve fair Bel-imperia. + But now, if your good liking stand thereto, + I'll crave your pardon to go seek the prince; + For so the duke, your father, gave me charge. + + Exit. + + BEL. Aye, go, Horatio; leave me here alone, + For solitude best fits my cheerless mood.-- + Yet what avails to wail Andreas death, + From whence Horatio proves my second love? + Had he not lov'd Andrea as he did, + He could not sit in Bel-imperia's thoughts. + But how can love find harbour in my breast, + Till I revenge the death of my belov'd? + Yes, second love shall further my revenge: + I'll love Horatio, my Andrea's friend, + The more to spite the prince that wrought his end; + And, where Don Balthazar, that slew my love, + Himself now pleads for favor at my hands, + He shall, in rigour of my just disdain, + Reap long repentance for his murderous deed,-- + For what was't else but murderous cowardice, + So many to oppress one valiant knight, + Without respect of honour in the fight? + And here he comes that murder'd my delight. + + Enter LORENZO and BALTHAZAR. + + LOR. Sister, what means this melancholy walk? + + BEL. That for a-while I wish no company. + + LOR. But here the prince is come to visit you. + + BEL. That argues that he lives in liberty. + + BAL. No madam, but in pleasing servitude. + + BEL. Your prison then, belike, is your conceit. + + BAL. Aye, by conceit my freedom is enthrall'd. + + BEL. Then with conceit enlarge yourself again. + + BAL. What if conceit have laid my heart to gage? + + BEL. Pay that you borrow'd, and recover it. + + BAL. I die if it return from whence it lies. + + BEL. A heartless man, and live? A miracle! + + BAL. Aye, lady, love can work such miracles. + + LOR. Tush, tush, my lord! let go these ambages, + And in plain terms acquaint her with your love. + + BEL. What boots complaint, when there's no remedy? + + BAL. Yes, to your gracious self must I complain, + In whose fair answer lies my remedy, + On whose perfection all my thoughts attend, + On whose aspect mine eyes find beauty's bower, + In whose translucent breast my heart is lodg'd. + + BEL. Alas, my lord! These are but words of course, + And but devis'd to drive me from this place. + + She, going in, lets fall her glove, which + HORATIO, coming out, takes up. + + HOR. Madame, your glove. + + BEL. Thanks, good Horatio; take it for thy pains. + + [BEL-IMPERIA exits.] + + BAL. Signior Horatio stoop'd in happy time! + + HOR. I reap'd more grace that I deserv'd or hop'd. + + LOR. My lord, be not dismay'd for what is past; + You know that women oft are humorous: + These clouds will overblow with little wind; + Let me alone, I'll scatter them myself. + Meanwhile let us devise to spend the time + In some delightful sports and revelling. + + HOR. The king, my lords, is coming hither straight + To feast the Portingal ambassador; + Things were in readiness before I came. + + BAL. Then here it fits us to attend the king, + To welcome hither our ambassador, + And learn my father and my country's health. + + Enter the banquet, TRUMPETS, the KING, + and AMBASSADOR. + + KING. See, lord ambassador, how Spain entreats + Their prisoner Balthazar, thy viceroy's son: + We pleasure more in kindness than in wars. + + AMBASS. Sad is our king, and Portingal laments, + Supposing that Don Balthazar is slain. + + BAL. [aside] So am I, slain by beauty's tyranny!-- + You see, my lord, how Balthazar is slain: + I frolic with the Duke of Castille's son, + Wrapp'd every hour in pleasures of the court, + And grac'd with favours of his Majesty. + + KING. Put off your greetings till our feast be done; + Now come and sit with us, and taste our cheer. + + Sit to the banquet. + + Sit down, young prince, you are our second guest; + Brother, sit down; and nephew, take your place. + Signior Horatio, wait thou upon our cup, + For well thou hast deserved to be honour'd. + Now, lordings, fall too: Spain is Portugal, + And Portugal is Spain; we both are friends; + Tribute is paid, and we enjoy our right. + But where is old Hieronimo, our marshall? + He promis'd us, in honour of our guest, + To grace our banquet with some pompous jest. + + Enter HIERONIMO with a DRUM, three KNIGHTS, + each with scutcheon; then he fetches three + KINGS; they take their crowns and them + captive. + + Hieronimo, this makes content mine eye, + Although I sound not well the mystery. + + HIERO. The first arm'd knight that hung his scutcheon up + + He takes the scutcheon and gives it to + the KING. + + Was English Robert, Earle of Gloucester, + Who, when King Stephen bore sway in Albion, + Arriv'd with five and twenty thousand men + In Portingal, and, by success of war, + Enforc'd the king, then but a Saracen, + To bear the yoke of the English monarchy. + + KING. My lord of Portingal, by this you see + That which may comfort both your king and you, + And make your late discomfort seem the less. + But say, Hieronimo: what was the next? + + HIERO. The second knight that hung his scutcheon up + + He doth as he did before. + + Was Edmond, Earle of Kent in Albion. + When English Richard wore the diadem, + He came likewise and razed Lisbon walls, + And took the king of Portingal in fight,-- + For which, and other such service done, + He after was created Duke of York. + + KING. This is another special argument + That Portingal may deign to bear our yoke, + When it by little England hath been yok'd. + But now, Hieronimo, what were the last? + + HIERO. The third and last, not least in our account, + + Doing as before. + + Was, as the rest, a valiant Englishman, + Brave John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster, + As by his scutcheon plainly may appear: + He with a puissant army came to Spain + And took our King of Castille prisoner. + + AMBASS. This is an argument for our viceroy + That Spain may not insult for her success, + Since English warriors likewise conquer'd Spain + And made them bow their knees to Albion. + + KING. Hieronimo, I drink to thee for this device, + Which hath pleas'd both the ambassador and me: + Pledge me, Hieronimo, if thou love the king! + + Takes the cup of HORATIO. + + My lord, I fear we sit but over-long, + Unless our dainties were more delicate,-- + But welcome are you to the best we have. + Now let us in, that you may be dispatch'd; + I think our council is already set. + + Exeunt omnes. + + [CHORUS.] + + ANDREA. Come we for this from depth of under ground,-- + To see him feast that gave me my death's wound? + These pleasant sights are sorrow to my soul: + Nothing but league and love and banqueting! + + REVENGE. Be still, Andrea; ere we go from hence, + I'll turn their friendship into fell despite, + Their love to mortal hate, their day to night, + Their hope into despair, their peace to war, + Their joys to pain, their bliss to misery. + + + + +ACTUS SECUNDUS. + + +[ACT II. SCENE 1.] + + + [The DUKE's castle.] + + Enter LORENZO and BALTHAZAR. + + LORENZO. My lord, though Bel-imperia seem thus coy, + Let reason hold you in your wonted joy: + In time the savage bull sustains the yoke, + In time all haggard hawks will stoop to lure, + In time small wedges cleave the hardest oak, + In time the flint is pierc'd with softest shower; + And she in time will fall from her disdain, + And rue the sufferance of your friendly pain. + + BAL. No; she is wilder, and more hard withal, + Then beast or bird, or tree or stony wall! + But wherefore blot I Bel-imperia's name? + It is my fault, not she that merits blame. + My feature is not to content her sight; + My words are rude and work her no delight; + The lines I send her are but harsh and ill, + Such as do drop from Pan and Marsya's quill; + My presents are not of sufficient cost; + And, being worthless, all my labours lost. + Yet might she love me for my valiancy. + Aye; but that's slander'd by captivity. + Yet might she love me to content her sire. + Aye; but her reason masters her desire. + Yet might she love me as her brother's friend. + Aye; but her hopes aim at some other end. + Yet might she love me to uprear her state. + Aye; but perhaps she loves some nobler mate. + Yet might she love me as her beauty's thrall. + Aye; but I fear she cannot love at all. + + LOR. My lord, for my sake leave these ecstasies, + And doubt not but we'll find some remedy. + Some cause there is that lets you not be lov'd: + First that must needs be known, and then remov'd. + What if my sister love some other knight? + + BAL. My summer's day will turn to winter's night. + + LOR. I have already found a stratagem + To sound the bottom of this doubtful theme. + My lord, for once you shall be rul'd by me; + Hinder me not what ere you hear or see: + By force or fair means will I cast about + To find the truth of all this question out. + Ho, Pedringano! + + PED. Signior. + + LOR. Vien qui presto! + + Enter PEDRINGANO. + + PED. Hath your lordship any service to command me? + + LOR. Aye, Pedringano, service of import. + And, not to spend the time in trifling words, + Thus stands the case: it is not long, thou know'st, + Since I did shield thee from my father's wrath + For thy convenience in Andrea's love, + For which thou wert adjudg'd to punishment; + I stood betwixt thee and thy punishment, + And since thou knowest how I have favour'd thee. + Now to these favours will I add reward, + Not with fair words, but store of golden coin + And lands and living join'd with dignities, + If thou but satisfy my just demand; + Tell truth and have me for thy lasting friend. + + PED. Whate'er it be your lordship shall demand, + My bounden duty bids me tell the truth, + If case it lie in me to tell the truth. + + LOR. Then, Pedringano, this is my demand; + Whom loves my sister Bel-imperia? + For she reposeth all her trust in thee. + Speak, man, and gain both friendship and reward: + I mean, whom loves she in Andrea's place? + + PED. Alas, my lord, since Don Andrea's death + I have no credit with her as before, + And therefore know not if she love or no. + + LOR. Nay, if thou dally, then I am thy foe, + And fear shall force what friendship cannot win. + Thy death shall bury what thy life conceals. + Thou die'st for more esteeming her than me! + + [Draws his sword.] + + PED. Oh stay, my lord! + + LOR. Yet speak the truth, and I will guerdon thee + And shield thee from whatever can ensue, + And will conceal whate'er proceeds from thee; + But, if thou dally once again, thou diest! + + PED. If madame Bel-imperia be in love-- + + LOR. What, villain! ifs and ands? + + PED. Oh stay, my lord! she loves Horatio! + + BALTHAZAR starts back. + + LOR. What! Don Horatio, our knight-marshall's son? + + PED. Even him, my lord. + + LOR. Now say but how know'st thou he is her love, + And thou shalt find me kind and liberal. + Stand up, I say, and fearless tell the truth. + + PED. She sent him letters,--which myself perus'd,-- + Full-fraught with lines and arguments of love, + Preferring him before Prince Balthazar. + + LOR. Swear on this cross that what thou say'st is true, + And that thou wilt conceal what thou hast told. + + PED. I swear to both, by him that made us all. + + LOR. In hope thine oath is true, here's thy reward. + But, if I prove thee perjur'd and unjust, + This very sword whereon thou took'st thine oath + Shall be the worker of thy tragedy. + + PED. What I have said is true, and shall, for me, + Be still conceal'd from Bel-imperia. + Besides, your Honour's liberality + Deserves my duteous service ev'n till death. + + LOR. Let this be all that thou shall do for me: + Be watchful when and where these lovers meet, + And give me notice in some secret sort. + + PED. I will, my lord. + + LOR. Then thou shalt find that I am liberal. + Thou know'st that I can more advance thy state + Than she: be therefore wise and fail me not. + Go and attend her as thy custom is, + Least absence make her think thou dost amiss. + + Exit PEDRINGANO. + + Why, so, Tam armis quam ingenio: + Where words prevail not, violence prevails. + But gold doth more than either of them both. + How likes Prince Balthazar this stratagem? + + BAL. Both well and ill; it makes me glad and sad: + Glad, that I know the hind'rer of my love; + Sad, that I fear she hates me whom I love; + Glad, that I know on whom to be reveng'd; + Sad, that she'll fly me if I take revenge. + Yet must I take revenge or die myself; + For love resisted grows impatient. + I think Horatio be my destin'd plague: + First, in his hand he brandished a sword, + And with that sword he fiercely waged war, + And in that war he gave me dangerous wounds, + And by those wounds he forced me to yield, + And by my yielding I became his slave; + Now, in his mouth he carries pleasing words, + Which pleasing words do harbour sweet conceits, + Which sweet conceits are lim'd with sly deceits, + Which sly deceits smooth Bel-imperia's ears, + And through her ears dive down into her heart, + And in her heart set him, where I should stand. + Thus hath he ta'en my body by his force, + And now by sleight would captivate my soul; + But in his fall I'll tempt the Destinies, + And either lose my life or win my love. + + LOR. Let's go, my lord; our staying stays revenge. + Do but follow me, and gain your love; + Her favour must be won by his remove. + + Exeunt. + + + + +[ACT II. SCENE 2.] + +[The Duke's Castle] + + Enter HORATIO and BEL-IMPERIA. + + HOR. Now, madame, since by favour of your love + Our hidden smoke is turn'd to open flame, + And that with looks and words we feed our thought,-- + Two chief contents where more cannot be had,-- + Thus in the midst of love's fair blandishments + Why show you sign of inward languishments? + + PEDRINGANO showeth all to the PRINCE and + LORENZO, placing them in secret. + + BEL. My heart, sweet friend, is like a ship at sea: + She wisheth port, where, riding all at ease, + She may repair what stormy times have worn, + And, leaning on the shore, may sing with joy + That pleasure follows pain, and bliss annoy. + Possession of thy love is th' only port + Wherein my heart, with fears and hopes long toss'd, + Each hour doth wish and long to make resort, + There to repair the joys that it hath lost, + And, sitting safe, to sing in Cupid's choir + That sweetest bliss is crown of love's desire. + + BALTHAZAR, above. + + BAL. O sleep, mine eyes; see not my love profan'd! + Be deaf, my ears; hear not my discontent! + Die, heart; another joys what thou deserv'st! + + LOR. Watch still, mine eyes, to see this love disjoin'd! + Hear still, mine ears, to hear them both lament! + Live, heart, to joy at fond Horatio's fall! + + BEL. Why stands Horatio speechless all this while? + + HOR. The less I speak, the more I meditate. + + BEL. But whereon dost thou chiefly meditate? + + HOR. On dangers past and pleasures to ensue. + + BAL. On pleasures past and dangers to ensue! + + BEL. What dangers and what pleasures dost thou mean? + + HOR. Dangers of war and pleasures of our love. + + LOR. Dangers of death, but pleasures none at all! + + BEL. Let dangers go; thy war shall be with me, + But such a war as breaks no bond of peace. + Speak thou fair words, I'll cross them with fair words; + Send thou sweet looks, I'll meet them with sweet looks; + Write loving lines, I'll answer loving lines; + Give me a kiss, I'll countercheck thy kiss: + Be this our warring peace, or peaceful war. + + HOR. But, gracious madame, then appoint the field + Where trial of this war shall first be made. + + BAL. Ambitious villain, how his boldness grows! + + BEL. Then be thy father's pleasant bow'r the field,-- + Where first we vow'd a mutual amity. + The court were dangerous; that place is safe. + Our hour shall be when Vesper 'gins to rise, + That summons home distressful travelers. + There none shall hear us but the harmless birds: + Haply the gentle nightingale + Shall carroll us asleep ere we be ware, + And, singing with the prickle at her breast, + Tell our delight and mirthful dalliance. + Till then, each hour will seem a year and more. + + HOR. But, honey-sweet and honourable love, + Return we now into your father's sight; + Dang'rous suspicion waits on our delight. + + LOR. Aye, danger mix'd with jealous despite + Shall send thy soul into eternal night! + + Exeunt. + + + + +[ACT II. SCENE 3.] + + [The Spanish court.] + + Enter the KING OF SPAIN, PORTINGAL + AMBASSADOR, DON CIPRIAN, &c. + + KING. Brother of Castille, to the prince's love + What says your daughter Bel-imperia? + + CIP. Although she coy it, as becomes her kind, + And yet dissemble that she loves the prince, + I doubt not, aye, but she will stoop in time; + And, were she froward,--which she will not be,-- + Yet herein shall she follow my advice, + Which is to love him or forgo my love. + + KING. Then, lord ambassador of Portingal, + Advise thy king to make this marriage up + For strengthening of our late-confirmed league; + I know no better means to make us friends. + Her dowry shall be large and liberal; + Besides that she is daughter and half heir + Unto our brother here, Don Ciprian, + And shall enjoy the moiety of his land, + I'll grace her marriage with an uncle's gift, + And this is it: in case the match go forward, + The tribute which you pay shall be releas'd; + And, if by Balthazar she have a son, + He shall enjoy the kingdom after us. + + AMBASS. I'll make the motion to my sovereign liege, + And work it if my counsel may prevail. + + KING. Do so, my lord; and, if he give consent, + I hope his presence here will honour us + In celebration of the nuptial day,-- + And let himself determine of the time. + + AMBASS. Wilt please your Grace command me ought beside? + + KING. Commend me to the king; and so, farewell! + But where's Prince Balthazar, to take his leave? + + AMBASS. That is perform'd already, my good lord. + + KING. Amongst the rest of what you have in charge, + The prince's ransom must not be forgot: + That's none of mine, but his that took him prisoner,-- + And well his forwardness deserves reward: + It was Horatio, our knight-marshall's son. + + AMBASS. Between us there's a price already pitch'd, + And shall be sentwith all convenient speed. + + KING. Then once again farewell, my lord! + + AMBASS. Farwell, my lord of Castile, and the rest! + + Exit. + + KING. Now, brother, you must make some little pains + To win fair Bel-imperia from her will; + Young virgins must be ruled by their friends. + The prince is amiable, and loves her well; + If she neglect him and forgo his love, + She both will wrong her own estate and ours. + Therefore, whiles I do entertain the prince + With greatest pleasure that our court affords, + Endeavor you to win your daughter's thought. + If she give back, all this will come to naught. + + Exeunt. + + + + +[ACT II. SCENE 4.] + + [HORATIO's garden.] + + Enter HORATIO, BEL-IMPERIA, and PEDRINGANO. + + HOR. Now that the night begins with sable wings + To over-cloud the brightness of the sun, + And that in darkness pleasures may be done, + Come, Bel-imperia, let us to the bower, + And there is safety pass a pleasant hour. + + BEL. I follow thee, my love, and will not back, + Although my fainting heart controls my soul. + + HOR. Why, make you doubt of Pedringano's faith? + + BEL. No; he is as trusty as my second self. + Go, Pedringano, watch without the gate, + And let us know if any make approach. + + PED. [aside] Instead of watching, I'll deserve more gold + By fetching Don Lorenzo to this match. + + Exit PEDRINGANO. + + HOR. What means my love? + + BEL. I know not what, myself; + And yet my heart foretells me some mischance. + + HOR. Sweet, say not so; fair Fortune is our friend, + And heav'ns have shut up day to pleasure us. + The stars, thou see'st, hold back their twinkling shine + And Luna hides herself to pleasure us. + + BEL. Thou hast prevail'd! I'll conquer my misdoubt, + And in thy love and counsel drown my fear. + I fear no more; love now is all my thoughts! + Why sit we not? for pleasure asketh ease. + + HOR. The more thou sitt'st within these leafy bowers, + The more will Flora deck it with her flowers. + + BEL. Aye; but, if Flora spy Horatio here, + Her jealous eye will think I sit too near. + + HOR. Hark, madame, how the birds record by night, + For joy that Bel-imperia sits in sight! + + BEL. No; Cupid counterfeits the nightingale, + To frame sweet music to Horatio's tale. + + HOR. If Cupid sing, then Venus is not far,-- + Aye, thou art Venus, or some fairer star! + + BEL. If I be Venus, thou must needs be Mars; + And where Mars reigneth, there must needs be wars. + + HOR. Then thus begin our wars: put forth thy hand, + That it may combat with my ruder hand. + + BEL. Set forth thy foot to try the push of mine. + + HOR. But, first, my looks shall combat against thee. + + BEL. Then ward thyself! I dart this kiss at thee. + + HOR. Thus I return the dart thou throwest at me! + + BEL. Nay then, to gain the glory of the field, + My twining arms shall yoke and make thee yield. + + HOR. Nay then, my arms are large and strong withal: + Thus elms by vines are compass'd till they fall. + + BEL. O, let me go, for in my troubled eyes + Now may'st thou read that life in passion dies! + + HOR. O, stay a-while, and I will die with thee; + So shalt thou yield, and yet have conquer'd me. + + BEL. Who's there? Pedringano? We are betray'd! + + Enter LORENZO, BALTHAZAR, SERBERINE, + PEDRINGANO, disguised. + + LOR. My lord, away with her! take her aside! + O sir, forbear, your valour is already tried. + Quickly dispatch, my masters. + + They hang him in the arbor. + + HOR. What, will you murder me? + + LOR. Aye; thus! and thus! these are the fruits of love! + + They stab him. + + BEL. O, save his life, and let me die for him! + O, save him, brother! save him, Balthazar! + I lov'd Horatio, but he lov'd not me. + + BAL. But Balthazar loves Bel-imperia. + + LOR. Although his life were still ambitious, proud, + Yet is he at the highest now he is dead. + + BEL. Murder! murder! help! Hieronimo, help! + + LOR. Come, stop her mouth! away with her! + + Exeunt. + + Enter HIERONIMO in his shirt, &c. + + HIERO. What outcries pluck me from my naked bed, + And chill my throbbing heart with trembling fear, + Which never danger yet could daunt before? + Who calls Hieronimo? speak; hear I am! + I did not slumber; therefore 'twas no dream. + No, no; it was some woman cried for help. + And here within this garden did she cry, + And in this garden must I rescue her. + But stay! what murderous spectacle is this? + A man hang'd up, and all the murderers gone! + And in the bower, to lay the guilt on me! + This place was made for pleasure not for death. + + He cuts him down. + + Those garments that he wears I oft have seen,-- + Alas! it is Horatio, my sweet son! + O, no; but he that whilome was my son! + O, was it thou that call'dst me from my bed? + O, speak, if any spark of life remain! + I am thy father. Who hath slain my son? + What savage monster, not of human kind, + Hath here been glutted with thy harmless blood, + And left thy bloody corpse dishonour'd here, + For me amidst these dark and dreadful shades + To drown thee with an ocean of my tears? + O heav'ns, why made you night, to cover sin? + By day this deed of darkness had not been. + O earth, why didst thou not in time devour + The vile profaner of this sacred bower? + O poor Horatio, what hadst thou misdone + To leese thy life ere life was new begun? + O wicked butcher, whatsoe'er thou wert, + How could thou strangle virtue and desert? + Ay me, most wretched! that have lost my joy + In leesing my Horatio, my sweet boy! + + Enter ISABELL. + + ISA. My husband's absence makes my heart to throb. + Hieronimo! + + HIERO. Here, Isabella. Help me to lament; + For sighs are stopp'd, and all my tears are spent. + + ISA. What world of grief--my son Horatio! + O where's the author of this endless woe? + + HIERO. To know the author were some ease of grief, + For in revenge my heart would find relief. + + ISA. Then is he gone? and is my son gone too? + O, gush out, tears! fountains and floods of tears! + Blow, sighs, and raise an everlasting storm; + For outrage fits our cursed wretchedness. + + HIERO. Sweet lovely rose, ill pluck'd before thy time! + Fair, worthy son, not conquer'd, but betray'd! + I'll kiss thee now, for words with tears are stay'd. + + ISA. And I'll close up the glasses of his sight; + For once these eyes were only my delight. + + HIERO. See'st thou this handkerchief besmear'd with blood? + It shall not from me till I take revenge; + See'st thou those wounds that yet are bleeding fresh? + I'll not entomb them till I have reveng'd: + Then will I joy amidst my discontent, + Till then, my sorrow never shall be spent. + + ISA. The heav'ns are just, murder cannot be hid; + Time is the author of both truth and right, + And time will bring this treachery to light. + + HIERO. Meanwhile, good Isabella, cease thy plaints, + Or, at the least, dissemble them awhile; + So shall we sooner find the practise out, + And learn by whom all this was brought about. + Come, Isabell, now let us take him up. + + They take him up. + + And bear him in from out this cursed place. + I'll say his dirge,--singing fits not this case. + O aliquis mihi quas pulchrum ver educat herbas + + HIERONIMO sets his breast unto his sword. + + Misceat, et nostro detur medicina dolori; + Aut, si qui faciunt annorum oblivia, succos + Praebeat; ipse metam magnum quaecunque per orbem + Gramina Sol pulchras effert in luminis oras. + Ipse bibam quicquid meditatur saga veneni, + Quicquid et herbarum vi caeca nenia nectit. + Omnia perpetiar, lethum quoque, dum semel omnis + Noster in extincto moriatur pectore sensus. + Ergo tuos oculos nunquam, mea vita videbo, + Et tua perpetuus sepelivit lumina somnus? + Emoriar tecum: sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras! + Attamen absistam properato cedere letho, + Ne mortem vindicta tuam tam nulla sequatur. + + Here he throws it from him and bears the + body away. + + [CHORUS.] + + ANDREA. Brought'st thou me hither to increase my pain? + I look'd that Balthazar should have been slain; + But 'tis my friend Horatio that is slain, + And they abuse fair Bel-imperia, + On whom I doted more then all the world, + Because she lov'd me more then all the world. + + REVENGE. Thou talk'st of harvest, when the corn is green; + The end is crown of every work well done; + The sickle comes not till the corn be ripe. + Be still, and, ere I lead thee from this place, + I'll show thee Balthazar in heavy case. + + + + +ACTUS TERTIUS. + + + + +[ACT III. SCENE 1.] + + [The Portuguese court.] + + Enter VICEROY OF PORTINGAL, NOBLES, ALEXANDRO, VILLUPPO. + + VICEROY. Infortunate condition of kings, + Seated amidst so many helpless doubts! + First, we are plac'd upon extremest height, + And oft supplanted with exceeding hate, + But ever subject to the wheel of chance; + And at our highest never joy we so + As we doubt and dread our overthrow. + So striveth not the waves with sundry winds + As fortune toileth in the affairs of kings, + That would be fear'd, yet fear to be belov'd, + Sith fear and love to kings is flattery. + For instance, lordings, look upon your king, + By hate deprived of his dearest son, + The only hope of our successive line. + + NOB. I had not thought that Alexandro's heart + Had been envenom'd with such extreme hate; + But now I see that words have several works, + And there's no credit in the countenance. + + VIL. No, for, my lord, had you beheld the train + That feigned love had colour'd in his looks + When he in camp consorted Balthazar, + Far more inconstant had you thought the sun, + That hourly coasts the center of the earth, + Then Alexandro's purpose to the prince. + + VICE. No more, Villuppo! thou hast said enough, + And with thy words thou slay'st our wounded thoughts. + Nor shall I longer dally with the world, + Procrastinating Alexandro's death. + Go, some of you, and fetch the traitor forth, + That, as he is condemned, he may die. + + Enter ALEXANDRO, with a NOBLE-MAN and + HALBERTS. + + NOB. In such extremes will nought but patience serve. + + ALEX. But in extremes what patience shall I use? + Nor discontents it me to leave the world, + With whom there nothing can prevail but wrong. + + NOB. Yet hope the best. + + ALEX. 'Tis heav'n is my hope: + As for the earth, it is too much infect + To yield me hope of any of her mould. + + VICE. Why linger ye? bring forth that daring fiend, + And let him die for his accursed deed. + + ALEX. Not that I fear the extremity of death-- + For nobles cannot stoop to servile fear-- + Do I, O king, thus discontented live; + But this, O this, torments my labouring soul, + That thus I die suspected of a sin + Whereof, as Heav'ns have known my secret thoughts, + So am I free from this suggestion! + + VICE. No more, I say; to the tortures! when? + Bind him, and burn his body in those flames, + + They bind him to the stake. + + That shall prefigure those unquenched fires + Of Phlegethon prepared for his soul. + + ALEX. My guiltless death will be aveng'd on thee! + On thee, Villuppo, that hath malice'd thus, + Or for thy meed hast falsely me accus'd! + + VIL. Nay, Alexandro, if thou menace me, + I'll lend a hand to send thee to the lake + Where those thy words shall perish with thy works, + Injurious traitor, monstrous homicide! + + Enter AMBASSADOR. + + AMBASS. Stay! hold a-while! + And here, with pardon of his Majesty, + Lay hands upon Villuppo! + + VICE. Ambassador, + What news hath urg'd this sudden enterance? + + AMBASS. Know, sovereign lord, that Balthazar doth live. + + VICE. What say'st thou? liveth Balthazar, our son? + + AMBASS. Your Highness' son, Lord Balthazar doth live, + And, well entreated in the court of Spain, + Humbly commends him to your Majesty. + These eyes beheld; and these my followers, + With these, the letters of the king's commends, + + Gives him letters. + + Are happy witnesses of his Highness' health. + + The KING looks on the letters, and proceeds. + + VICE. [reads] "Thy son doth live; your tribute is receiv'd; + Thy peace is made, and we are satisfied. + The rest resolve upon as things propos'd + For both our honours and thy benefit." + + AMBASS. These are his Highness' farther articles. + + He gives him more letters. + + VICE. Accursed wretch to intimate these ills + Against the life and reputation + Of noble Alexandro! come, my lord, unbind him! + [To ALEXANDRO] Let him unbind thee that is bound to death, + To make acquittal for thy discontent. + + They unbind him. + + ALEX. Dread lord, in kindness you could do no less, + Upon report of such a damned fact; + But thus we see our innocence hath sav'd + The hopeless life which thou, Villuppo, sought + By thy suggestions to have massacred. + + VICE. Say, false Villuppo, wherefore didst thou thus + Falsely betray Lord Alexandro's life? + Him whom thou know'st that no unkindness else + But even the slaughter of our dearest son + Could once have mov'd us to have misconceiv'd. + + ALEX. Say, treacherous Villuppo; tell the King! + Or wherein hath Alexandro us'd thee ill? + + VIL. Rent with remembrance of so foul a deed, + My guilty soul submits me to thy doom, + For, not for Alexandro's injuries, + But for reward and hope to be prefer'd, + Thus have I shamelessly hazarded his life. + + VICE. Which, villain, shall be ransom'd with thy death, + And not so mean a torment as we here + Devis'd for him who thou said'st slew our son, + But with the bitterest torments and extremes + That may be yet invented for thine end. + + ALEXANDRO seems to entreat. + + Entreat me not! Go, take the traitor hence! + + Exit VILLUPPO. + + And, Alexandro, let us honour thee + With public notice of thy loyalty. + To end those things articulated here + By our great lord, the mighty king of Spain, + We with our council will deliberate. + Come, Alexandro, keep us company. + + Exeunt. + + +[ACT III. SCENE 2.] + + [Spain: near the DUKE's castle.] + + Enter HIERONIMO. + + HIERO. Oh eyes! no eyes but fountains fraught with tears; + Oh life! no life, but lively form of death; + Oh world! no world, but mass of public wrongs, + Confus'd and fill'd with murder and misdeeds; + Oh sacred heav'ns, if this unhallow'd deed, + If this inhuman and barbarous attempt, + If this incomparable murder thus + Of mine, but now no more my son shall pass, + Unreveal'd and unrevenged pass, + How should we term your dealings to be just, + If you unjustly deal with those that in your justice trust? + The night, sad secretary to my moans, + With direful visions wake my vexed soul, + And with the wounds of my distressful son + Solicit me for notice of his death; + The ugly fiends do sally forth of hell, + And frame my heart with fierce inflamed thoughts; + The cloudy day my discontents records, + Early begins to register my dreams + And drive me forth to seek the murderer. + Eyes, life, world, heav'ns, hell, night and day, + See, search, show, send, some man, some mean, that may-- + + A letter falleth. + + What's here? a letter? Tush, it is not so! + A letter for Hieronimo. + [Reads] "For want of ink receive this bloody writ. + Me hath my hapless brother hid from thee. + Revenge thyself on Balthazar and him, + For these were they that murdered thy son. + Hieronimo, revenge Horatio's death, + And better fare then Bel-imperia doth!"-- + What means this unexpected miracle? + My son slain by Lorenzo and the prince? + What cause had they Horatio to malign? + Or what might move thee, Bel-imperia, + To accuse thy brother, had he been the mean? + Hieronimo, beware! thou art betray'd, + And to entrap thy life this train is laid. + Advise thee therefore, be not credulous: + This is devised to endanger thee, + That thou, by this, Lorenzo should'st accuse. + And he, for thy dishonour done, should draw + Thy life in question and thy name in hate. + Dear was the life of my beloved son, + And of his death behooves me be aveng'd: + Then hazard not thine own, Hieronimo, + But live t'effect thy resolution! + I therefore will by circumstances try + What I can gather to confirm this writ, + And, harken near the Duke of Castile's house, + Close if I can with Bel-imperia, + To listen more, but nothing to bewray. + + Enter PEDRINGANO. + + Now, Pedringano! + + PED. Now, Hieronimo! + + HIERO. Where's thy lady? + + PED. I know not; here's my lord. + + Enter LORENZO. + + LOR. How now, who's this? Hieronimo? + + HIERO. My lord. + + PED. He asketh for my lady Bel-imperia. + + LOR. What to do, Hieronimo? Use me. + + HIERO. Oh, no, my lord, I dare not, it must not be; + I humbly thank your lordship. + + LOR. Why then, farewell! + + HIERO. My grief no heart, my thoughts no tongue can tell. + + Exit. + + LOR. Come hither, Pedringano; see'st thou this? + + PED. My lord, I see it, and suspect it too. + + LOR. This is that damned villain Serberine, + That hath, I fear, reveal'd Horatio's death. + + PED. My lord, he could not; 'twas so lately done, + And since he hath not left my company. + + LOR. Admit he have not; his conditions such + As fear or flattering words may make him false. + I know his humour, and therewith repent + That e'er I us'd him in this enterprise. + But, Pedringano, to prevent the worst, + And 'cause I know thee secret as my soul, + Here, for thy further satisfaction, take thou this! + + Gives him more gold. + + And hearken to me; thus it is devis'd: + This night thou must--and prithee so resolve-- + Meet Serberine at St. Luigi's Park,-- + Thou knowest 'tis here hard by behind the house; + There take thy stand, and see thou strike him sure, + For die he must, if we do mean to live. + + PED. But how shall Serberine be there, my lord? + + LOR. Let me alone, I'll send him to meet + The prince and me where thou must do this deed. + + PED. It shall be done, my lord; it shall be done; + And I'll go arm myself to meet him there. + + LOR. When things shall alter, as I hope they will, + Then shalt thou mount for this, thou knowest my mind. + + Exit PEDRINGANO. + + Che le Ieron! + + Enter PAGE. + + PAGE. My lord. + + LOR. Go, sirrah, + To Serberine, and bid him forthwith meet + The prince and me at S. Luigi's Park, + Behind the house, this evening, boy. + + PAGE. I go, my lord. + + LOR. But, sirrah, let the hour be eight o'clock. + Bid him not fail. + + PAGE. I fly, my lord. + + Exit. + + LOR. Now to confirm the complot thou hast cast + Of all these practices, I'll spread the watch, + Upon precise commandment from the king + Strongly to guard the place where Pedringano + This night shall murder hapless Serberine. + Thus must we work that will avoid distrust, + Thus must we practice to prevent mishap, + And thus one ill another must expulse. + This sly enquiry of Hieronimo + For Bel-imperia breeds suspicion; + And this suspicion bodes a further ill. + As for myself, I know my secret fault, + And so do they, but I have dealt for them. + They that for coin their souls endangered + To save my life, for coin shall venture theirs; + And better 'tis that base companions die + Than by their life to hazard our good haps. + Nor shall they live for me to fear their faith; + I'll trust myself, myself shall be my friend; + For die they shall,-- + Slaves are ordain'd to no other end. + + Exit. + + + +[ACT III. SCENE 3.] + + [San Luigi's Park.] + + Enter PEDRINGANO with a pistol. + + PED. Now, Pedringano, bid thy pistol hold; + And hold on, Fortune! Once more favour me! + Give but success to mine attempting spirit, + And let me shift for taking of mine aim. + Here is the gold! This is the gold propos'd! + It is no dream that I adventure for, + But Pedringano is posses'd thereof. + And he that would not strain his conscience + For him that thus his liberal purse hath stretch'd, + Unworthy such a favour, may he fail, + And, wishing, want, when such as I prevail! + As for the fear of apprehension, + I know, if need should be, my noble lord + Will stand between me and ensuing harms. + Besides, this place is free from all suspect. + Here therefore will I stay and take my stand. + + Enter the WATCH. + + I WATCH. I wonder much to what intent it is + That we are thus expressly charg'd to watch. + + II WATCH. This by commandment in the king's own + name. + + III WATCH. But we were never wont to watch and ward + So near the duke his brother's house before. + + II WATCH. Content yourself, stand close, there's somewhat + in't. + + Enter SERBERINE. + + SER. [aside] Here, Serberine, attend and stay thy pace; + For here did Don Lorenzo's page appoint + That thou by his command shouldst meet with him. + How fit a place, if one were so dispos'd, + Methinks this corner is to close with one. + + PED. [aside] Here comes the bird that I must seize upon; + Now, Pedringano, or never play the man! + + SER. [aside] I wonder that his lordship stays so long, + Or wherefore should he send for me so late. + + PED. For this, Serberine; and thou shalt ha't! + + Shoots. + + So, there he lies; my promise is perform'd. + + The WATCH. + + I WATCH. Hark, gentlemen, this is a pistol shot! + + II WATCH. And here's one slain; stay the murderer! + + PED. Now, by the sorrows of the souls in hell, + + He strives with the WATCH. + + Who first lays hands on me, I'll be his priest! + + III WATCH. Sirrah, confess, and therein play the priest. + Why hast thou thus unkindly kill'd the man? + + PED. Why, because he walk'd abroad so late. + + III WATCH. Come sir, you had been better kept your bed + Then have committed this misdeed so late. + + II WATCH. Come to the marshall's with the murderer! + + I WATCH. On to Hieronimo's! help me here + To bring the murder'd body with us too. + + PED. Hieronimo? Carry me before whom you will; + What e'er he be, I'll answer him and you. + And do your worst, for I defy you all! + + Exeunt. + + + + +[ACT III. SCENE 4.] + + [The DUKE's castle] + + Enter LORENZO and BALTHAZAR. + + BAL. How now, my lord? what makes you rise so soon? + + LOR. Fear of preventing our mishaps too late. + + BAL. What mischief is it that we not mistrust? + + LOR. Our greatest ills we least mistrust, my lord, + And unexpected harms do hurt us most. + + BAL. Why, tell me, Don Lorenz,--tell me, man, + If aught concerns our honour and your own! + + LOR. Nor you nor me, my lord, but both in one; + But I suspect--and the presumptions great-- + That by those base confed'rates in our fault + Touching the death of Don Horatio + We are all betray'd to old Hieronimo. + + BAL. Betray'd, Lorenzo? tush! it cannot be. + + LOR. A guilty conscience urged with the thought + Of former evils, easily cannot err: + I am persuaded--and dissuade me not-- + That all's revealed to Hieronimo. + And therefore know that I have cast it thus-- + + [Enter PAGE.] + + But here's the page. How now? what news with thee? + + PAGE. My lord, Serberine is slain. + + BAL. Who? Serberine, my man? + + PAGE. Your Highness' man, my lord. + + LOR. Speak, page: who murder'd him? + + PAGE. He that is apprehended for the fact. + + LOR. Who? + + PAGE. Pedringano. + + BAL. Is Serberine slain, that lov'd his lord so well? + Injurious villain! murd'rer of his friend! + + LOR. Hath Pedringano murder'd Serberine? + My lord, let me entreat you to take the pains + To exasperate and hasten his revenge + With your complaints unto my lord the king. + This their dissension breeds a greater doubt. + + BAL. Assure thee, Don Lorenzo, he shall die, + Or else his Highness hardly shall deny. + Meanwhile, I'll haste the marshall sessions, + For die he shall for this his damned deed. + + Exit BALTHAZAR. + + LOR. [aside] Why, so! this fits our former policy; + And thus experience bids the wise and deal. + I lay the plot, he prosecutes the point; + I set the trap, he breaks the worthless twigs, + And sees not that wherewith the bird was lim'd. + Thus hopeful men, that means to hold their own, + Must look, like fowlers, to their dearest friends. + He runs to kill whom I have holp to catch, + And no man knows it was my reaching fetch. + 'Tis hard to trust unto a multitude,-- + Or any one, in mine opinion, + When men themselves their secrets will reveal. + + Enter a MESSENGER with a letter. + + LOR. Boy. + + PAGE. My lord. + + LOR. What's he? + + MES. I have a letter to your lordship. + + LOR. From whence? + + MES. From Pedringano that's imprison'd. + + LOR. So he is in prison then? + + MES. Aye, my good lord. + + LOR. What would he with us? + + [Reads the letter.] + + He writes us here + To stand good lord and help him in distress. + Tell him I have his letters, know his mind; + And what we may, let him assure him of. + Fellow, be gone; my boy shall follow thee. + + Exit MESSENGER. + + [Aside] This works like wax! Yet once more try thy wits.-- + Boy, go convey this purse to Pedringano,-- + Thou know'st the prison,--closely give it him, + And be advis'd that none be thereabout. + Bid him be merry still, but secret; + And, though the marshall sessions be today, + Bid him not doubt of his delivery. + Tell him his pardon is already sign'd, + And thereon bid him boldly be resolv'd; + For, were he ready to be turned off,-- + As 'tis my will the uttermost be tried,-- + Thou with his pardon shalt attend him still. + Show him this box, tell him his pardon's in't; + But open't not, and if thou lov'st thy life, + But let him wisely keep his hopes unknown. + He shall not want while Don Lorenzo lives. + Away! + + PAGE. I go, my lord, I run! + + LOR. But, sirrah, see that this be cleanly done. + + Exit PAGE. + + Now stands our fortune on a tickle point, + And now or never ends Lorenzo's doubts. + One only thing is uneffected yet, + And that's to see the executioner,-- + But to what end? I list not trust the air + With utterance of our pretence therein, + For fear the privy whisp'ring of the wind + Convey our words amongst unfriendly ears, + That lie too open to advantages. + Et quel che voglio io, nessun lo sa, + Intendo io quel mi bastera. + + Exit. + + +[ACT III. SCENE 5.] + + [A street.] + + Enter BOY with the box. + + [BOY.] My master hath forbidden me to look in this box, and, by +my troth, 'tis likely, if he had not warned me, I should not have had so +much idle time; for we men-kind in our minority are like women in +their uncertainty; that they are most forbidden, they will soonest +attempt; so I now. By my bare honesty, here's nothing but the bare +empty box! Were it not sin against secrecy, I would say it were a +piece of gentlemanlike knavery. I must go to Pedringano and tell him +his pardon is in this box! Nay, I would have sworn it, had I not +seen the contrary. I cannot choose but smile to think how the villain +will flout the gallows, scorn the audience, and descant on the hangman, +and all presuming of his pardon from hence. Will't not be an odd jest, +for me to stand and grace every jest he makes, pointing my finger at +this box, as who should say: "Mock on, here's thy warrant!" Is't not +a scurvy jest that a man should jest himself to death? Alas, poor +Pedringano! I am in a sort sorry for thee, but, if I should be hanged +with thee, I could not weep. + + Exit. + + + + +[ACT III. SCENE 6.] + + [The court of justice.] + + Enter HIERONIMO and the DEPUTY. + + HIERO. Thus must we toil in others men's extremes + That know not how to remedy our own, + And do them justice, when unjustly we + For all our wrongs can compass no redress. + But shall I never live to see the day + That I may come by justice to the Heav'ns + To know the cause that may my cares allay? + This toils my body, this consumeth age, + That only I to all men just must be, + And neither gods nor men be just to me! + + DEP. Worthy Hieronimo, your office asks + A care to punish such as do transgress. + + HIERO. So is't my duty to regard his death + Who when he liv'd deserv'd my dearest blood. + But come; for that we came for, let's begin; + For here lies that which bids me to be gone. + + Enter OFFICERS, BOY, & PEDRINGANO with a letter + in his hand, bound. + + DEPU. Bring forth the prisoner for the court is set. + + PED. Gramercy, boy! but it was time to come, + For I had written to my lord anew + A nearer matter that concerneth him, + For fear his lordship had forgotten me; + But, sith he hath remember'd me so well, + Come, come, come on! when shall we to this gear? + + HIERO. Stand forth, thou monster, murderer of men, + And here, for satisfaction of the world, + Confess thy folly and repent thy fault, + For there's thy place of execution. + + PED. This is short work! Well, to your martiallship + First I confess, nor fear I death therefore, + I am the man,--'twas I slew Serberine. + But, sir, then you think this shall be the place + Where we shall satisfy you for this gear? + + DEPU. Aye, Pedrigano. + + PED. No I think not so. + + HEIRO. Peace, impudent! for thou shalt find it so; + For blood with blood shall, while I sit as judge, + Be satisfied, and the law discharg'd. + And, though myself cannot receive the like, + Yet will I see that others have their right. + Dispatch! the fault approved and confess'd, + And by our law he is condemn'd to die. + + HANG. Come on, sir! are you ready? + + PED. To do what, my fine officious knave? + + HANG. To go to this gear. + + PED. O, sir, you are to forward; thou wouldst fain + furnish me with a halter, to disfurnish me of my habit. + So should I go out of this gear, my raiment, into that + gear, the rope. But, hangman, now I spy your knavery, I'll + not change without boot; that's flat. + + HANG. Come, sir. + + PED. So then I must up? + + HANG. No remedy. + + PED. Yes, but there shall be for my coming down. + + HANG. Indeed here's a remedy for that. + + PED. How? be turn'd off? + + HANG. Aye, truly. Come, are you ready? + I pray you, sir, dispatch, the day goes away. + + PED. What, do you hang by the hour? If you do, I + may chance to break your old custom. + + HANG. Faith, you have no reason, for I am like to break + your young neck. + + PED. Dost thou mock me, hangman? Pray God I be not + preserved to break your knaves-pate for this! + + HANG. Alas, sir, you are a foot too low to reach it, and I + hope you will never grow so high while I am in office. + + PED. Sirrah, dost see yonder boy with the box in his + hand? + + HANG. What, he that points to it with his finger? + + PED. Aye, that companion. + + HANG. I know him not; but what of him? + + PED. Dost thou think to live till his old doublet will + make thee a new truss? + + HANG. Aye, and many a fair year after, to truss up many + an honester man then either thou or he. + + PED. What hath he in his box, as thou thinkst? + + HANG. Faith, I cannot tell, nor I care not greatly. + Me thinks you should rather hearken to your soul's health. + + PED. Why, sirrah hangman, I take it that that is good for + the body is likewise good for the soul: and it may be in + that box is balm for both. + + HANG. Well, thou art even the merriest piece of man's + flesh that e'er groaned at my office-door. + + PED. Is your roguery become an office, with a knave's + name? + + HANG. Aye, and that shall all they witness that see you seal + it with a thief's name. + + PED. I prithee, request this good company to pray for + me. + + HANG. Aye, marry, sir, this is a good motion! My masters, + you see here's a good fellow. + + PED. Nay, nay, now I remember me, let them alone till + some other time; for now I have no great need. + + HIERO. I have not seen a wretch so impudent. + O monstrous times where murders are so light, + And where the soul that should be shrin'd in heav'n + Solely delights in interdicted things, + Still wand'ring in the thorny passages + That intercepts itself of happiness! + Murder? O bloody monster! God forbid + A fault so foul should 'scape unpunished! + Dispatch and see this execution done; + This makes me to remember thee, my son. + + Exit HIERONIMO. + + PED. Nay, soft! no haste! + + DEPU. Why, wherefore stay you? Have you hope of life? + + PED. Why, aye. + + HANG. As how? + + PED. Why, rascal, by my pardon from the king. + + HANG. Stand you on that? then you shall off with this. + + He turns him off. + + DEPU. So, executioner, convey him hence; + But let his body be unburied. + Let not the earth be choked or infect + What that which Heav'ns contemns and men neglect. + + Exeunt. + + + + +[ACT III. SCENE 7.] + + [HIERONIMO's house.] + + Enter HIERONIMO. + +HIER. Where shall I run to breath abroad my woes,-- + My woes whose weight hath wearied the earth, + Or mine exclaims that have surcharg'd the air + With ceaseless plaints for my deceased son? + The blust'ring winds, conspiring with my words, + At my lament have mov'd to leafless trees, + Disrob'd the meadows of their flower'd green, + Made mountains marsh with spring-tides of my tears, + And broken through the brazen gates of hell; + Yet still tormented is my tortur'd soul + With broken sighs and restless passions, + That, winged, mount, and hovering in the air, + Beat at the windows of the brightest heav'ns, + Soliciting for justice and revenge. + But they are plac'd in those empyreal heights, + Where, countermur'd with walls of diamond, + I find the place impregnable, and they + Resist my woes and give my words no way. + + Enter HANGMAN with a letter. + + HANG. O Lord, sir! God bless you, sir! The man, sir,-- + Petergade, sir: he that was so full of merry conceits-- + + HIER. Well, what of him? + + HANG. O Lord, sir! he went the wrong way; the fellow + had a fair commission to the contrary. Sir, here is his + passport, I pray you, sir; we have done him wrong. + + HIERO. I warrant thee; give it me. + + HANG. You will stand between the gallows and me? + + HIERO. Aye, aye! + + HANG. I thank your lord's worship. + + Exit HANGMAN. + + HIERO. And yet, though somewhat nearer me concerns + I will, to ease the grief that I sustain, + Take truce with sorrow while I read on this. + [Reads] "My lord, I writ, as mine extremes requir'd, + That you would labour my delivery: + If you neglect, my life is desperate, + And in my death I shall reveal the troth. + You know, my lord, I slew him for your sake, + And was confed'rate with the prince and you; + Won by rewards and hopeful promises, + I holp to murder Don Horatio too."-- + Holp he to murder mine Horatio? + And actors in th' accursed tragedy + Wast thou, Lorenzo? Balthazar and thou, + Of whom my son, my son deserv'd so well? + What have I heard? what have mine eyes beheld? + O sacred heav'ns, may it come to pass + That such a monstrous and detested deed, + So closely smoother'd and so long conceal'd, + Shall thus by this be venged or reveal'd? + Now see I what I durst not then suspect, + That Bel-imperia's letter was not feign'd, + Nor feigned she, though falsely they have wrong'd + Both her, myself, Horatio and themselves. + Now may I make compare 'twixt hers and this + Of every accident. I ne'er could find + Till now, and now I feelingly perceive, + They did what Heav'n unpunish'd should not leave. + O false Lorenzo! are these thy flattering looks? + Is this the honour that thou didst my son? + And, Balthazar,--bane to thy soul and me!-- + What this the ransom he reserv'd for thee? + Woe to the cause of these constrained wars! + Woe to thy baseness and captivity! + Woe to thy birth, thy body and thy soul, + Thy cursed father, and thy conquer'd self! + And bann'd with bitter execrations be + The day and place where he did pity thee! + But wherefore waste I mine unfruitful words, + When naught but blood will satisfy my woes? + I will go plain me to my lord the king, + And cry aloud for justice through the court, + Wearing the flints with these my wither'd feet, + And either purchase justice by entreats + Or tire them all with my revenging threats. + + Exit. + + + + +[ACT III. SCENE 8.] + + [HIERONIMO's house.] + + Enter ISABELL and her MAID. + + ISA. So that you say this herb will purge the eyes, + And this the head? Ah! but none of them will purge the + heart! + No, there's no medicine left for my disease, + Nor any physic to recure the dead. + + She runs lunatic. + + Horatio! O, where's Horatio? + + MAID. Good madam, affright not thus yourself + With outrage for your son Horatio; + He sleeps in quiet in the Elysian fields. + + ISA. Why did I not give you gowns and goodly things, + Bought you a whistle and a whipstalk too, + To be revenged on their villainies? + + MAID. Madame, these humors do torment my soul. + + ISA. My soul? poor soul, thou talk'st of things + Thou know'st not what! My soul hath silver wings, + That mounts me up unto the highest heav'ns-- + To heav'n? Aye, there sits my Horatio, + Back'd with troop of fiery cherubins + Dancing about his newly healed wounds, + Singing sweet hymns and chanting heav'nly notes, + Rare harmony to greet his innocence, + That died, aye, died a mirror in our days! + But say, where shall I find the men, the murderers, + That slew Horatio? whether shall I run + To find them out, that murdered my son? + + Exeunt. + + + + +[ACT III. SCENE 9.] + + [The DUKE's castle.] + + BEL-IMPERIA at a window. + + BEL. What means this outrage that is offer'd me? + Why am I thus sequester'd from the court? + No notice? shall I not know the cause + Of these my secret and suspicious ills? + Accursed brother! unkind murderer! + Why bend'st thou thus thy mind to martyr me? + Hieronimo, why writ I of thy wrongs, + Or why art thou so slack in thy revenge? + Andrea! O Andrea, that thou sawest + Me for thy friend Horatio handled thus, + And him for me thus causeless murdered! + Well, force perforce, I must constrain myself + To patience, and apply me to the time, + Till Heav'n, as I have hop'd, shall set me free. + + Enter CHRISTOPHEL. + + CHRIS. Come, Madame Bel-imperia, this must not be! + + Exeunt. + + +[ACT III. Scene 10.] + + [A room in the DUKE's castle.] + + Enter LORENZO, BALTHAZAR and the PAGE. + + LOR. Boy, talk no further; thus far things go well. + Thou art assur'd that thou sawest him dead? + + PAGE. Or else, my lord, I live not. + + LOR. That's enough. + As for this resolution at his end, + Leave that to him with whom he sojourns now. + Here, take my ring, and give it Christophel, + And bid him let my sister be enlarg'd, + And bring her hither straight. + + Exit PAGE. + + This that I did was for a policy, + To smooth and keep the murder secret, + Which as a nine days wonder being o'er-blown, + My gentle sister will I now enlarge. + + BAL. And time, Lorenzo; for my lord the duke, + You heard, enquired for her yester-night. + + LOR. Why! and, my lord, I hope you heard me say + Sufficient reason why she kept away; + But that's all one. My lord, you love her? + + BAL. Aye. + + LOR. Then in your love beware; deal cunningly; + Salve all suspicions; only soothe me up, + And, if she hap to stand on terms with us, + As for her sweet-heart, and concealment so, + Jest with her gently; under feigned jest + Are things conceal'd that else would breed unrest. + But here she comes. + + Enter BEL-IMPERIA. + + LOR. Now, sister. + + BEL. Sister? No! + Thou art no brother, but an enemy, + Else wouldst thou not have us'd thy sister so: + First, to affright me with thy weapons drawn, + And with extremes abuse my company; + And then to hurry me like whirlwind's rage + Amidst a crew of thy confederates, + And clap me up where none might come at me, + Nor I at any to reveal my wrongs. + What madding fury did possess thy wits? + Or wherein is't that I offended thee? + + LOR. Advise you better, Bel-imperia; + For I have done you no disparagement,-- + Unless, by more discretion then deserv'd, + I sought to save your honour and mine own. + + BEL. Mine honour? Why, Lorenzo, wherein is't + That I neglect my reputation so + As you, or any, need to rescue it? + + LOR. His Highness and my father were resolv'd + To come confer with old Hieronimo + Concerning certain matters of estate + That by the viceroy was determined. + + BEL. And wherein was mine honour touch'd in that? + + BAL. Have patience, Bel-imperia; hear the rest. + + LOR. Me, next in sight, as messenger they sent + To give him notice that they were so nigh: + Now, when I came, consorted with the prince, + And unexpected in an arbor there + Found Bel-imperia with Horatio-- + + BEL. How then? + + LOR. Why, then, rememb'ring that old disgrace + Which you for Don Andrea had endur'd, + And now were likely longer to sustain + By being found so meanly accompanied, + Thought rather, for I knew no readier mean, + To thrust Horatio forth my father's way. + + BAL. And carry you obscurely somewhere else, + Lest that his Highness should have found you there. + + BEL. Ev'n so, my lord? And you are witness + That this is true which he entreateth of? + You, gentle brother, forg'd this for my sake? + And you, my lord, were made his instrument? + A work of worth! worthy the noting too! + But what's the cause that you conceal'd me since? + + LOR. Your melancholy, sister, since the news + Of your first favorite Don Andrea's death + My father's old wrath hath exasperate. + + BAL. And better was't for you, being in disgrace, + To absent yourself and give his fury place. + + BEL. But why I had no notice of his ire? + + LOR. That were to add more fuel to your fire, + Who burnt like Aetna for Andrea's loss. + + BEL. Hath not my father then enquir'd for me? + + LOR. Sister, he hath; and this excus'd I thee. + + He whispereth in her ear. + + But, Bel-imperia, see the gentle prince; + Look on thy love; behold young Balthazar, + Whose passions by thy presence are increas'd, + And in whose melancholy thou may'st see + Thy hate, his love, thy flight, his following thee. + + BEL. Brother, you are become an orator-- + I know not, ay, by what experience-- + Too politic for me, past all compare, + Since I last saw you. But content yourself; + The prince is meditating higher things. + + BAL. 'Tis of thy beauty, then, that conquers kings, + Of those thy tresses, Ariadne's twines, + Wherewith my liberty thou hast surpris'd, + Of that thine ivory front, my sorrow's map, + Wherein I see no hav'n to rest my hope. + + BEL. To love and fear, and both at once, my lord, + In my conceit, are things of more import + Then women's wit are to be busied with. + + BAL. 'Tis I that love. + + BEL. Whom? + + BAL. Bel-imperia. + + BEL. But I that fear. + + BAL. Whom? + + BEL. Bel-imperia. + + LOR. Fear yourself? + + BEL. Aye, brother. + + LOR. How? + + BEL. As those + That, when they love, are loath and fear to lose. + + BAL. Then, fair, let Balthazar your keeper be. + + BEL. No, Balthazar doth fear as well as we; + Et tremulo metui pavidum junxere timorem, + Est vanum stolidae proditionis opus. + + Exit. + + LOR. Nay, and you argue things so cunningly, + We'll go continue this discourse at court. + + BAL. Led by the loadstar of her heav'nly looks, + Wends poor oppressed Balthazar, + As o'er the mountains walks the wanderer + Incertain to effect his pilgrimage. + + Exeunt. + + + + +[ACT III. SCENE 11.] + + [A street.] + + Enter two PORTINGALES, and HIERONIMO + meets them. + + I PORT. By your leave, sir. + + HIERO. Good leave have you; nay, I pray you go, + For I'll leave you, if you can leave me so. + + II PORT. Pray you, which is the next way to my lord + the duke's? + + HIERO. The next way from me. + + I PORT. To the house, we mean. + + HIERO. O hard by; 'tis yon house that you see. + + II PORT. You could not tell us if his son were there? + + HIERO. Who? my lord Lorenzo? + + I PORT. Aye, sir. + + He goeth in at one door and comes out at another. + + HIERO. Oh, forbear, + For other talk for us far fitter were! + But, if you be importunate to know + The way to him and where to find him out, + Then list to me, and I'll resolve your doubt: + There is a path upon your left hand side + That leadeth from a guilty conscience + Unto a forest of distrust and fear,-- + A darksome place and dangerous to pass,-- + There shall you meet with melancholy thoughts + Whose baleful humours if you but behold, + It will conduct you to despair and death: + Whose rocky cliffs when you have once beheld, + Within a hugy dale of lasting night, + That, kindled with worlds of iniquities, + Doth cast up filthy and detested fumes,-- + Not far from thence where murderers have built + A habitation for their cursed souls, + There, in a brazen caldron fix'd by Jove + In his fell wrath upon a sulfur flame, + Yourselves shall find Lorenzo bathing him + In boiling lead and blood of innocents. + + I PORT. Ha, ha, ha! + + HIERO. Ha, ha, ha! why, ha, ha, ha! Farewell, good ha, + ha, ha! + + Exit. + + II PORT. Doubtless this man is passing lunatic, + Or imperfection of his age doth make him dote. + Come, let's away to seek my lord the duke. + + [Exeunt.] + + + + +[ACT III. SCENE 12.] + + [The Spanish court.] + + Enter HIERONIMO with a ponyard in one hand, + and a rope in the other. + + HIERO. Now, sir, perhaps I come to see the king, + The king sees me, and fain would hear my suit: + Why, is this not a strange and seld-seen thing + That standers-by with toys should strike me mute? + Go to, I see their shifts, and say no more; + Hieronimo, 'tis time for thee to trudge! + Down by the dale that flows with purple gore + Standeth a fiery tower; there sits a judge + Upon a seat of steel and molten brass, + And 'twixt his teeth he holds a fire-brand, + That leads unto the lake where he doth stand. + Away, Hieronimo; to him be gone: + He'll do thee justice for Horatio's death. + Turn down this path, thou shalt be with him straight; + Or this, and then thou need'st not take thy breath. + This way, or that way? Soft and fair, not so! + For, if I hang or kill myself, let's know + Who will revenge Horatio's murther then! + No, no; fie, no! pardon me, I'll none of that: + + He flings away the dagger & halter. + + This way I'll take; and this way comes the king, + + He takes them up again. + + And here I'll have a fling at him, that's flat! + And, Balthazar, I'll be with thee to bring; + And thee, Lorenzo! Here's the king; nay, stay! + And here,--aye, here,--there goes the hare away! + + Enter KING, AMBASSADOR, CASTILLE, and + LORENZO. + + KING. Now show, ambassador, what our viceroy saith: + Hath he receiv'd the articles we sent? + + HIERO. Justice! O, justice to Hieronimo! + + LOR. Back! see'st thou not the king is busy? + + HIERO. O! is he so? + + KING. Who is he that interrupts our business? + + HIERO. Not I! [aside] Hieronimo, beware! go by, go + by! + + AMBASS. Renown'd king, he hath receiv'd and read + Thy kingly proffers and thy promis'd league, + And, as a man extremely over-joy'd + To hear his son so princely entertain'd, + Whose death he had so solemnly bewail'd, + This, for thy further satisfaction + And kingly love, he kindly lets thee know: + First, for the marriage of his princely son + With Bel-imperia, thy beloved niece, + The news are more delightful to his soul + Then myrrh or incense to the offended Heav'ns. + In person, therefore, will be come himself + To see the marriage rites solemnized + And in the presence of the court of Spain + To knit a sure inextricable band + Of kingly love and everlasting league + Betwixt the crowns of Spain and Portingal. + There will he give his crown to Balthazar, + And make a queen of Bel-imperia. + + KING. Brother, how like you this our viceroy's love? + + CAST. No doubt, my lord, it is an argument + Of honourable care to keep his friend + And wondrous zeal to Balthazar, his son. + Nor am I least indebted to his Grace, + That bends his liking to my daughter thus. + + AMBASS. Now last, dread lord, here hath his Highness sent-- + Although he send not that his son return-- + His ransom due to Don Horatio. + + HIERO. Horatio? who calls Horatio? + + KING. And well remember'd, thank his Majesty! + Here, see it given to Horatio. + + HIERO. Justice! O justice! justice, gentle king! + + KING. Who is that? Hieronimo? + + HIERO. Justice! O justice! O my son! my son! + My son, whom naught can ransom or redeem! + + LOR. Hieronimo, you are not well advis'd. + + HIERO. Away, Lorenzo! hinder me no more, + For thou hast made me bankrupt of my bliss! + Give me my son! You shall not ransom him! + Away! I'll rip the bowels of the earth, + + He diggeth with his dagger. + + And ferry over th' Elysian plains + And bring my son to show his deadly wounds. + Stand from about me! I'll make a pickaxe of my poniard, + And here surrender up my marshallship; + For I'll go marshall up the fiends in hell, + To be avenged on you all for this. + + KING. What means this outrage? + Will none of you restrain his fury? + + HIERO. Nay, soft and fair; you shall not need to strive! + Needs must he go that the devils drive. + + Exit. + + KING. What accident hath happ'd to Hieronimo? + I have not seen him to demean him so. + + LOR. My gracious lord, he is with extreme pride + Conceiv'd of young Horatio, his son, + And covetous of having himself + The ransom of the young prince, Balthazar, + Distract, and in a manner lunatic. + + KING. Believe me, nephew, we are sorry for 't; + This is the love that fathers bear their sons. + But, gentle brother, go give to him this gold, + The prince's ransom; let him have his due; + For what he hath, Horatio shall not want. + Haply Hieronimo hath need thereof. + + LOR. But if he be thus helplessly distract, + 'Tis requisite his office be resign'd + And giv'n to one of more discretion. + + KING. We shall increase his melancholy so. + 'Tis best that we see further in it first; + Till when, ourself will hold exempt the place. + And, brother, now bring in the ambassador, + That he may be a witness of the match + 'Twixt Balthazar and Bel-imperia, + And that we may prefix a certain time + Wherein the marriage shall be solemniz'd, + That we may have thy lord the viceroy here. + + AMBASS. Therein your Highness highly shall content + His majesty, that longs to hear from hence. + + KING. On then, and hear you, lord ambassador. + + Exeunt. + + +[ACT III. SCENE 13.] + + [HIERONIMO's house.] + + Enter HIERONIMO with a book in his hand. + + [HIERO.] Vindicta mihi. + Aye, heav'n will be reveng'd of every ill, + Nor will they suffer murder unrepaid! + Then stay, Hieronimo, attend their will; + For mortal men may not appoint their time. + Per scelus semper tutum est sceleribus iter: + Strike, and strike home, where wrong is offer'd thee; + For evils unto ills conductors be, + And death's the worst of resolution. + For he that thinks with patience to contend + To quiet life, his life shall easily end. + Fata si miseros juvant, habes salutem; + Fata si vitam negant, habes sepulchrum: + If destiny thy miseries do ease, + Then hast thou health, and happy shalt thou be; + If destiny deny thee life, Hieronimo, + Yet shalt thou be assured of a tomb; + If neither, yet let this thy comfort be: + Heav'n covereth him that hath no burial. + And, to conclude, I will revenge his death! + But how? Not as the vulgar wits of men, + With open, but inevitable ills; + As by a secret, yet a certain mean, + Which under kindship will be cloaked best. + Wise men will take their opportunity, + Closely and safely fitting things to time; + But in extremes advantage hath no time; + And therefore all times fit not for revenge. + Thus, therefore, will I rest me in unrest, + Dissembling quiet in unquietness, + Not seeming that I know their villainies, + That my simplicity may make them think + That ignorantly I will let all slip; + For ignorance, I wot, and well they know, + Remedium malorum iners est. + Nor aught avails it me to menace them. + Who, as a wintry storm upon a plain, + Will bear me down with their nobility. + No, no, Hieronimo, thou must enjoin + Thine eyes to observation, and thy tongue + To milder speeches than thy spirit affords, + Thy heart to patience, and thy hands to rest, + Thy cap to courtesy, and thy knee to bow, + Till to revenge thou know when, where and how. + How now? what noise, what coil is that you keep? + + A noise within. + + Enter a SERVANT. + + SER. Here are a sort of poor petitioners + That are importunate, and it shall please you, sir, + That you should plead their cases to the king. + + HIERO. That I should plead their several actions? + Why, let them enter, and let me see them. + + Enter three CITIZENS and an OLD MAN + [DON BAZULTO]. + + I CIT. So I tell you this: for learning and for law + There is not any advocate in Spain + That can prevail or will take half the pain + That he will in pursuit of equity. + + HIERO. Come near, you men, that thus importune me! + [Aside] Now must I bear a face of gravity, + For thus I us'd, before my marshallship, + To plead in causes as corrigedor.-- + Come on, sirs, what's the matter? + + II CIT. Sir, an action. + + HIERO. Of battery? + + I CIT. Mine of debt. + + HIERO. Give place. + + II CIT. No, sir, mine is an action of the case. + + III CIT. Mine an ejectionae firmae by a lease. + + HIERO. Content you, sirs; are you determined + That I should plead your several actions? + + I CIT. Aye, sir; and here's my declaration. + + II CIT. And here is my bond. + + III CIT. And here is my lease. + + They give him papers. + + HIERO. But wherefore stands yon silly man so mute, + With mournful eyes and hands to heav'n uprear'd? + Come hither, father; let me know thy cause. + + SENEX, [DON BAZULTO]. O worthy sir, my cause but slightly known + May move the hearts of warlike Myrmidons, + And melt the Corsic rocks with ruthful tears! + + HIERO. Say, father; tell me what's thy suit! + + BAZULTO. No, sir, could my woes + Give way unto my most distressful words, + Then should I not in paper, as you see, + With ink bewray what blood began in me. + + HIERO. What's here? "The Humble Supplication + Of Don Bazulto for his Murder'd Son." + + BAZULTO. Aye, sir. + + HIERO. No, sir, it was my murder'd son! + Oh, my son, my son! oh, my son Horatio! + But mine or thine, Bazulto, be content; + Here, take my handkerchief and wipe thine eyes, + Whiles wretched I in thy mishaps may see + The lively portrait of my dying self. + + He draweth out a bloody napkin. + + O, no; not this! Horatio, this was thine! + And when I dy'd it in thy dearest blood, + This was a token twixt thy soul and me + That of thy death revenged I should be. + But here: take this, and this! what? my purse? + Aye, this and that and all of them are thine; + For all as one are our extremities. + + I CIT. Oh, see the kindness of Hieronimo! + + II CIT. This gentleness shows him a gentleman. + + HIERO. See, see, oh, see thy shame, Hieronimo! + See here a loving father to his son: + Behold the sorrows and the sad laments + That he deliv'reth for his son's decease. + If love's effect so strives in lesser things, + If love enforce such moods in meaner wits, + If love express such power in poor estates, + Hieronimo, as when a raging sea, + Toss'd with the wind and tide, o'er-turneth then + The upper-billows course of waves to keep, + Whilst lesser waters labour in the deep, + Then sham'st thou not, Hieronimo, to neglect + The swift revenge of thy Horatio? + Though on this earth justice will not be found, + I'll down to hell and in this passion + Knock at the dismal gates of Pluto's court, + Getting by force, as once Alcides did, + A troupe of furies and tormenting hags, + To torture Don Lorenzo and the rest. + Yet, lest the triple-headed porter should + Deny my passage to the slimy strand, + The Thracian poet thou shalt counterfeit; + Come on, old father, be my Orpheus; + And, if thou canst no notes upon the harp, + Then sound the burden of thy sore heart's grief + Till we do gain that Proserpine may grant + Revenge on them that murdered my son. + Then will I rent and tear them thus and thus, + Shiv'ring their limbs in pieces with my teeth! + + Tears the papers. + + I CIT. Oh, sir, my declaration! + + Exit HIERONIMO and they after. + + II CIT. Save my bond! + + Enter HIERONIMO. + + II CIT. Save my bond! + + III CIT. Alas my lease, it cost me + Ten pound, and you, my lord, have torn the same! + + HIERO. That can not be, I gave it never a wound; + Show me one drop of blood fall from the same! + How is it possible I should slay it then? + Tush, no! Run after, catch me if you can! + + Exeunt all but DON BAZULTO. + + BAZULTO remains till HIERONIMO enters + again, who, staring him in the face, speaks: + + And art thou come, Horatio, from the depth, + To ask for justice in this upper earth? + To tell thy father thou art unreveng'd? + To wring more tears from Isabella's eyes, + Whose lights are dimm'd with over-long laments? + Go back, my son, complain to Eacus; + For here's no justice. Gentle boy, begone; + For justice is exiled from the earth. + Hieronimo will bear thee company. + Thy mother cries on righteous Radamant + For just revenge against the murderers. + + BAZULTO. Alas, my lord, whence springs this troubled speech? + + HIERO. But let me look on my Horatio: + Sweet boy, how art thou chang'd in death's black shade! + Had Proserpine no pity on thy youth, + But suffer'd thy fair crimson-colour'd spring + With wither'd winter to be blasted thus? + Horatio, thou are older than thy father: + Ah, ruthless father, that favour thus transforms. + + BA. Ah, my good lord, I am not your young son. + + HIE. What! not my son? thou then a Fury art + Sent from the empty kingdom of black night + To summon me to make appearance + Before grim Minos and just Radamant, + To plague Hieronimo, that is remiss + And seeks not vengeance for Horatio's death. + + BA. I am a grieved man, and not a ghost, + That came for justice for my murder'd son. + + HIE. Aye, now I know thee, now thou namest thy son; + Thou art the lively image of my grief: + Within thy face my sorrows I may see; + The eyes are dimm'd with tears, thy cheeks are wan, + Thy forehead troubled, and thy mutt'ring lips + Murmur sad words abruptly broken off + By force of windy sighs thy spirit breathes; + And all this sorrow riseth for thy son, + And self-same sorrow feel I for my son. + Come in, old man; thou shalt to Isabell. + Lean on my arm; I thee, thou me, shalt stay; + And thou and I and she will sing a song, + Three parts in one, but all of discords fram'd,-- + Talk not of cords!--but let us now be gone,-- + For with a cord Horatio was slain. + + Exeunt. + + + +[ACT III. SCENE 14.] + + [The Spanish court.] + + Enter KING OF SPAIN, the DUKE, VICEROY, and + LORENZO, BALTHAZAR, DON PEDRO, and BEL-IMPERIA. + + KING. Go, brother, 'tis the Duke of Castile's cause; + Salute the viceroy in our name. + + CASTILE. I go. + + VICE. Go forth, Don Pedro, for thy nephew's sake, + And greet the Duke of Castile. + + PEDRO. It shall be so. + + KING. And now to meet these Portuguese; + For, as we now are, so sometimes were these, + Kings and commanders of the western Indies. + Welcome, brave viceroy, to the court of Spain! + And welcome, all his honourable train! + 'Tis not unknown to us for why you come, + Or have so kingly cross'd the seas. + Sufficeth it, in this we note the troth + And more than common love you lend to us. + So is it that mine honourable niece, + For it beseems us now that it be known, + Already is betroth'd to Balthazar; + And, by appointment and our condescent, + Tomorrow are they to be married. + To this intent we entertain thyself, + Thy followers, their pleasure, and our peace. + Speak, men of Portingal, shall it be so? + If aye, say so; if not, say so flatly. + + VICE. Renowned king, I come not, as thou think'st, + With doubtful followers, unresolved men, + But such as have upon thine articles + Confirm'd thy motion and contented me. + Know, sovereign, I come to solemnize + The marriage of thy beloved niece, + Fair Bel-imperia, with my Balthazar,-- + With thee, my son, whom sith I live to see, + Here, take my crown, I give it to her and thee, + And let me live a solitary life, + In ceaseless prayers, + To think how strangely heav'n hath thee preserved. + + KING. See, brother, see, how nature strives in him! + Come, worthy viceroy, and accompany + Thy friend, to strive with thine extremities: + A place more private fits this princely mood. + + VICE. Or here or where your Highness thinks it good. + + Exeunt all but CASTILE and LORENZO. + + CAS. Nay, stay, Lorenzo; let me talk with you. + See'st thou this entertainment of these kings? + + LOR. I do, my lord, and joy to see the same. + + CAS. And know'st thou why this meeting is? + + LOR. For her, my lord, whom Balthazar doth love, + And to confirm their promis'd marriage. + + CAS. She is thy sister. + + LOR. Who? Bel-imperia? + Aye, my gracious lord, and this is the day + That I have long'd so happily to see. + + CAS. Thou wouldst be loath that any fault of thine + Should intercept her in her happiness? + + LOR. Heav'ns will not let Lorenzo err so much. + + CAS. Why then, Lorenzo, listen to my words: + It is suspected, and reported too, + That thou, Lorenzo, wrong'st Hieronimo, + And in his suits toward his Majesty + Still keep'st him back and seek'st to cross his suit. + + LOR. That I, my lord? + + CAS. I tell thee, son, myself have heard it said, + When to my sorrow I have been asham'd + To answer for thee, though thou art my son. + Lorenzo, know'st thou not the common love + And kindness that Hieronimo hath won + By his deserts within the court of Spain? + Or see'st thou not the king my brother's care + In his behalf and to procure his health? + Lorenzo, should'st thou thwart his passions, + And he exclaim against thee to the king, + What honour were't in this assembly, + Or what a scandal were't among the kings, + To hear Hieronimo exclaim on thee! + Tell me,--and look thou tell me truly too,-- + Whence grows the ground of this report in court? + + LOR. My lord, it lies not in Lorenzo's power + To stop the vulgar, liberal of their tongues: + A small advantage makes a water-breach; + And no man lives that long contenteth all. + + CAS. Myself have seen thee busy to keep back + Him and his supplications from the king. + + LOR. Yourself, my lord, hath seen his passions, + That ill beseem'd the presence of a king; + And, for I pitied him in his distress, + I held him thence with kind and courteous words, + As free from malice to Hieronimo + As to my soul, my lord. + + CAS. Hieronimo, my son, mistakes thee then. + + LOR. My gracious father, believe me, so he doth; + But what's a silly man, distract in mind, + To think upon the murder of his son? + Alas, how easy is it for him to err! + But, for his satisfaction and the world's, + 'Twere good, my lord, that Hieronimo and I + Were reconcil'd, if he misconstrue me. + + CAS. Lorenzo, that hast said; it shall be so! + Go, one of you, and call Hieronimo. + + Enter BALTHAZAR and BEL-IMPERIA. + + BAL. Come, Bel-imperia, Balthazar's content, + My sorrow's ease, and sovereign of my bliss,-- + Sith heav'n hath ordain'd thee to be mine, + Disperse those clouds and melancholy looks, + And clear them up with those thy sun-bright eyes, + Wherein my hope and heav'n's fair beauty lies! + + BEL. My looks, my lord, are fitting for my love, + Which, new begun, can show no brighter yet. + + BAL. New kindled flames should burn as morning sun. + + BEL. But not too fast, least heat and all be done. + I see my lord my father. + + BAL. True, my love; + I will go salute him. + + CAS. Welcome, Balthazar, + Welcome, brave prince, the pledge of Castile's peace! + And welcome Bel-imperia! How now, girl? + Why com'st thou sadly to salute us thus? + Content thyself, for I am satisfied. + It is not now as when Andrea liv'd; + We have forgotten and forgiven that, + And thou art graced with a happier love. + But, Balthazar, here comes Hieronimo; + I'll have a word with him. + + Enter HIERONIMO and a SERVANT. + + HIERO. And where's the duke? + + SER. Yonder. + + HIERO. Even so. + [aside] What new device have they devised, trow? + Pocas palabras! Mild as the lamb! + Is't I will be reveng'd? No, I am not the man. + + CAS. Welcome, Hieronimo! + + LOR. Welcome, Hieronimo! + + BAL. Welcome, Hieronimo! + + HIERO. My lords, I thank you for Horatio. + + CAS. Hieronimo, the reason that I sent + To speak with you is this-- + + HIERO. What? so short? + Then I'll be gone; I thank you for't! + + CAS. Nay, stay, Hieronimo; go call him, son. + + LOR. Hieronimo, my father craves a word with you. + + HIERO. With me, sir? Why, my lord, I thought you + had done. + + LOR. [aside] No; would he had! + + CAS. Hieronimo, I hear + You find yourself aggrieved at my son, + Because you have not access unto the king, + And say 'tis he that intercepts your suits. + + HIERO. Why, is not this a miserable thing, my lord? + + CAS. Hieronimo, I hope you have no cause, + And would be loath that one of your deserts + Should once have reason to suspect my son, + Considering how I think of you myself. + + HIERO. Your son Lorenzo? whom, my noble lord? + The hope of Spain? mine honourable friend? + Grant me the combat of them, if they dare! + + Draws out his sword. + + I'll meet them face-to-face to tell me so! + These be the scandalous reports of such + As love not me, and hate my lord too much. + Should I suspect Lorenzo would prevent + Or cross my suit, that lov'd my son so well? + My lord, I am asham'd it should be said. + + LOR. Hieronimo, I never gave you cause. + + HIERO. My good lord, I know you did not. + + CAS. There then pause, + And, for the satisfaction of the world, + Hieronimo, frequent my homely house, + The Duke of Castile Ciprian's ancient seat; + And when thou wilt, use me, my son, and it. + But here before Prince Balthazar and me + Embrace each other, and be perfect friends. + + HIERO. Aye, marry, my lord, and shall! + Friends, quoth he? See, I'll be friends with you all! + Especially with you, my lovely lord; + For divers causes it is fit for us + That we be friends. The world is suspicious, + And men may think what we imagine not. + + BAL. Why this is freely done, Hieronimo. + + LOR. And I hope old grudges are forgot. + + HIERO. What else? it were a shame it should not + be so! + + CAS. Come on, Hieronimo, at my request; + Let us entreat your company today! + + Exeunt. + +[CHORUS.] + + Enter GHOST and REVENGE. + + GHOST. Awake Erictho! Cerberus, awake! + Solicit Pluto, gentle Proserpine! + To combat, Acheron and Erebus in hell! + For ne'er by Styx and Phlegeton there came, + Nor ferried Charon to the fiery lakes, + Such fearful sights, as poor Andrea sees! + Revenge awake! + + REVENGE. Awake? For why? + + GHOST. Awake, Revenge! for thou art ill advis'd + To sleep away what thou art warn'd to watch! + + REVENGE. Content thyself, and do not trouble me. + + GHOST. Awake, Revenge, if love, as love hath had, + Have yet the power of prevalence in hell! + Hieronimo with Lorenzo is join'd in league, + And intercepts our passage to revenge. + Awake, Revenge, or we are woe-begone! + + REVENGE. Thus worldings ground what they have dream'd upon! + Content thyself, Andrea; though I sleep, + Yet is my mood soliciting their souls. + Sufficeth thee that poor Hieronimo + Cannot forget his son Horatio. + Nor dies Revenge although he sleep awhile; + For in unquiet, quietness is feign'd, + And slumb'ring is a common worldly wile. + Behold, Andrea, for an instance how + Revenge hath slept; and then imagine thou + What 'tis to be subject to destiny. + + Enter a Dumb-show. + + GHOST. Awake, Revenge! reveal this mystery! + + REVENGE. The two first do the nuptial torches bear, + As brightly burning as the midday's sun; + But after them doth Hymen hie as fast, + Clothed in sable and a saffron robe, + And blows them out and quencheth them with blood, + As discontent that things continue so. + + GHOST. Sufficeth me; thy meanings understood, + And thanks to thee and those infernal powers + That will not tolerate a lover's woe. + Rest thee; for I will sit to see the rest. + + REVENGE. Then argue not; for thou hast thy request. + + Exeunt. + + + + +[ACT IV. SCENE 1.] + + [The DUKE's castle.] + + Enter BEL-IMPERIA and HIERONIMO. + + BEL-IMPERIA. Is this the love thou bear'st Horatio? + Is this the kindness that thou counterfeit'st, + Are these the fruits of thine incessant tears? + Hieronimo, are these thy passions, + Thy protestations and thy deep laments, + That thou wert wont to weary men withal? + O unkind father! O deceitful world! + With what excuses canst thou show thyself,-- + With what dishonour, and the hate of men,-- + Thus to neglect the loss and life of him + Whom both my letters and thine own belief + Assures thee to be causeless slaughtered? + Hieronimo! for shame, Hieronimo, + Be not a history to after times + Of such ingratitude unto thy son! + Unhappy mothers of such children then! + But monstrous fathers, to forget so soon + The death of those whom they with care and cost + Have tender'd so, thus careless should be lost! + Myself, a stranger in respect to thee, + So lov'd his life as still I wish their deaths. + Nor shall his death be unreveng'd by me. + Although I bear it out for fashion's sake; + For here I swear in sight of heav'n and earth, + Shouldst thou neglect the love thou shouldst retain + And give it over and devise no more, + Myself should send their hateful souls to hell + That wrought his downfall with extremest death! + + HIE. But may it be that Bel-imperia + Vows such revenge as she hath deign'd to say? + Why then, I see that heav'n applies our drift, + And all the saints do sit soliciting + For vengeance on those cursed murtherers. + Madame, 'tis true, and now I find it so. + I found a letter, written in your name, + And in that letter, how Horatio died. + Pardon, O pardon, Bel-imperia, + My fear and care in not believing it! + Nor think I thoughtless think upon a mean + To let his death be unreveng'd at full. + And here I vow, so you but give consent + And will conceal my resolution, + I will ere long determine of their deaths + That causeless thus have murdered my son. + + BEL. Hieronimo, I will consent, conceal, + And aught that may effect for thine avail, + Join with thee to revenge Horatio's death. + + HIER. On then, and whatsoever I devise, + Let me entreat you grace my practice, + For-why the plot's already in mine head.-- + Here they are! + + Enter BALTHAZAR and LORENZO. + + BAL. How now, Hieronimo? + What, courting Bel-imperia? + + HIERO. Aye, my lord, + Such courting as, I promise you, + She hath my heart, but you, my lord, have hers. + + LOR. But now, Hieronimo, or never + We are to entreat your help. + + HIE. My help? + Why, my good lords, assure yourselves of me; + For you have giv'n me cause,-- + Aye, by my faith, have you! + + BAL. It pleased you + At the entertainment of the ambassador, + To grace the King so much as with a show; + Now were your study so well furnished + As, for the passing of the first night's sport, + To entertain my father with the like, + Or any such like pleasing motion, + Assure yourself it would content them well. + + HIERO. Is this all? + + BAL. Aye, this is all. + + HIERO. Why then I'll fit you; say no more. + When I was young I gave my mind + And plied myself to fruitless poetry, + Which, though it profit the professor naught, + Yet is it passing pleasing to the world. + + LOR. And how for that? + + HIERO. Marry, my good lord, thus.-- + And yet, me thinks, you are too quick with us!-- + When in Toledo there I studied, + It was my chance to write a tragedy,-- + See here, my lords,-- + + He shows them a book. + + Which, long forgot, I found this other day. + Nor would your lordships favour me so much + As but to grace me with your acting it, + I mean each one of you to play a part. + Assure you it will prove most passing strange + And wondrous plausible to that assembly. + + BAL. What, would you have us play a tragedy? + + HIERO. Why, Nero thought it no disparagement, + And kings and emperors have ta'en delight + To make experience of their wit in plays! + + LOR. Nay, be not angry, good Hieronimo; + The prince but ask'd a question. + + BAL. In faith, Hieronimo, and you be in earnest, + I'll make one. + + LOR. And I another. + + HIERO. Now, my good lord, could you entreat, + Your sister, Bel-imperia, to make one,-- + For what's a play without a woman in it? + + BEL. Little entreaty shall serve me, Hieronimo, + For I must needs be employed in your play. + + HIERO. Why, this is well! I tell you, lordings, + It was determined to have been acted, + By gentlemen and scholars too, + Such as could tell what to speak. + + BAL. And now + It shall be play'd by princes and courtiers, + Such as can tell how to speak, + If, as it is our country manner, + You will but let us know the argument. + + HIERO. That shall I roundly. The chronicles of Spain + Record this written of a knight of Rhodes; + He was betroth'd, and wedded at the length, + To one Perseda, an Italian dame, + Whose beauty ravish'd all that her beheld, + Especially the soul of Suleiman, + Who at the marriage was the chiefest guest. + By sundry means sought Suleiman to win + Perseda's love, and could not gain the same. + Then 'gan he break his passions to a friend, + One of his bashaws whom he held full dear. + Her has this bashaw long solicited, + And saw she was not otherwise to be won + But by her husband's death, this knight of Rhodes, + Whom presently by treachery he slew. + She, stirr'd with an exceeding hate therefore, + As cause of this, slew Sultan Suleiman, + And, to escape the bashaw's tyranny, + Did stab herself. And this is the tragedy. + + LOR. O, excellent! + + BEL. But say, Hieronimo: + What then became of him that was the bashaw? + + HIERO. + Marry thus: + Moved with remorse of his misdeeds, + Ran to a mountain top and hung himself. + + BAL. But which of us is to perform that part? + + HIERO. O, that will I, my lords; make no doubt of it; + I'll play the murderer, I warrant you; + For I already have conceited that. + + BAL. And what shall I? + + HIERO. Great Suleiman, the Turkish emperor. + + LOR. And I? + + HIERO. Erastus, the knight of Rhodes. + + BEL. And I? + + HIERO. Perseda, chaste and resolute. + And here, my lords, are several abstracts drawn, + For each of you to note your several parts. + And act it as occasion's offer'd you. + You must provide you with a Turkish cap, + A black moustache and a fauchion. + + Gives paper to BALTHAZAR. + + You with a cross, like a knight of Rhodes. + + Gives another to LORENZO. + + And, madame, you must then attire yourself + + He giveth BEL-IMPERIA another. + + Like Phoebe, Flora, or the huntress Dian, + Which to your discretion shall seem best. + And as for me, my lords, I'll look to one, + And with the ransom that the viceroy sent + So furnish and perform this tragedy + As all the world shall say Hieronimo + Was liberal in gracing of it so. + + BAL. Hieronimo, methinks a comedy were better. + + HIERO. A comedy? fie! comedies are fit for common wits; + But to present a kingly troupe withal, + Give me a stately-written tragedy,-- + Tragedia cothurnata, fitting kings, + Containing matter, and not common things! + My lords, all this our sport must be perform'd, + As fitting for the first night's revelling. + The Italian tragedians were so sharp + Of wit that in one hour's meditation + They would perform any-thing in action. + + LOR. And well it may, for I have seen the like + In Paris, 'mongst the French tragedians. + + HIERO. In Paris? mass, and well remembered!-- + There's one thing more that rests for us to do. + + BAL. What's that, Hieronimo? + Forget not anything. + + HIERO. Each one of us + Must act his part in unknown languages, + That it may breed the more variety: + As you, my lord, in Latin, I in Greek, + You in Italian, and, for-because I know + That Bel-imperia hath practised the French, + In courtly French shall all her phrases be. + + BEL. You mean to try my cunning then, Hieronimo! + + BAL. But this will be a mere confusion, + And hardly shall we all be understood. + + HEIRO. It must be so; for the conclusion + Shall prove the invention and all was good; + And I myself in an oration, + That I will have there behind a curtain, + And with a strange and wondrous show besides, + Assure yourself, shall make the matter known. + And all shall be concluded in one scene, + For there's no pleasure ta'en in tediousness. + + BAL. [to LOR.] How like you this? + + LOR. Why thus, my lord, we must resolve, + To soothe his humors up. + + BAL. On then, Hieronimo; farewell till soon! + + HIERO. You'll ply this gear? + + LOR. I warrant you. + + Exeuent all but HIERONIMO. + + HIERO. Why, so! now shall I see the fall of Babylon + Wrought by the heav'ns in this confusion. + And, if the world like not this tragedy, + Hard is the hap of old Hieronimo. + + Exit. + + + + +[ACT IV. SCENE 2.] + + [HIERONIMO's garden.] + + Enter ISABELLA with a weapon. + + [ISA.] Tell me no more! O monstrous homicides! + Since neither piety nor pity moves + The king to justice or compassion, + I will revenge myself upon this place, + Where thus they murder'd my beloved son. + + She cuts down the arbour. + + Down with these branches and these loathsome boughs + On this unfortunate and fatal pine! + Down with them, Isabella; rent them up, + And burns the roots from whence the rest is sprung! + I will leave not a root, a stalk, a tree, + A bough, a branch, a blossom, nor a leaf,-- + Not, not an herb within this garden plot, + Accursed complot of my misery! + Fruitless forever may this garden be, + Barren the earth, and blissless whosoever + Imagines not to keep it unmanur'd! + An eastern wind comix'd with noisome airs + Shall blast the plants and young saplings here, + The earth with serpents shall be pestered, + And passengers, for fear to be infect, + Shall stand aloof, and, looking at it, tell + There, murder'd, died the son of Isabell. + Aye, here he died, and here I him embrace! + See where his ghost solicits with his wounds + Revenge on her that should revenge his death! + Hieronimo, make haste to see thy son, + For Sorrow and Despair hath 'cited me + To hear Horatio plead with Radamant. + Make haste, Hieronimo, to hold excus'd + Thy negligence in pursuit of their deaths + Whose hateful wrath bereav'd him of his breath. + Ah, nay; thou dost delay their deaths, + Forgiv'st the murd'rers of thy noble son; + And none but I bestir me,--to no end! + And, as I curse this tree from further fruit, + So shall my womb be cursed for his sake; + And with this weapon will I wound this breast,-- + That hapless breast that gave Horatio suck! + + She stabs herself. + + +[ACT IV. SCENE 3.] + + [The DUKE's castle.] + + Enter HIERONIMO; he knocks up the curtain. + Enter the DUKE OF CASTILE. + + CAS. How now, Hieronimo? where's your fellows, + That you take all this pain? + + HIERO. O sir, it is for the author's credit + To look that all things may go well. + But, good my lord, let me entreat your Grace + To give the king the copy of the play: + This is the argument of what we show. + + CAS. I will, Hieronimo. + + HIERO. One more thing, my good lord. + + CAS. What's that? + + HIERO. Let me entreat your Grace + That, when the train are pass'd into the gallery, + You would vouchsafe to throw me down the key. + + CAS. I will Hieronimo. + + Exit CAS[TILE]. + + HIERO. What, are you ready, Balthazar? + Bring a chair and a cushion for the king. + + Enter BALTHAZAR with a chair. + + Well done, Balthazar; hang up the title: + Our scene is Rhodes. What, is your beard on? + + BAL. Half on, the other is in my hand. + + HIERO. Dispatch, for shame! are you so long? + + Exit BALTHAZAR. + + Bethink thyself, Hieronimo, + Recall thy wits, recompt thy former wrongs + Thou hast receiv'd by murder of thy son, + And lastly, but not least, how Isabell, + Once his mother and my dearest wife, + All woe-begone for him, hath slain herself. + Behooves thee then, Hieronimo, to be + Reveng'd! The plot is laid of dire revenge: + On then, Hieronimo; pursue revenge, + For nothing wants but acting of revenge! + + Exit HIERONIMO. + + Enter SPANISH KING, VICEROY, the DUKE + OF CASTILE, and their train, to the gallery. + + KING. Now, viceroy, shall we see the tragedy + Of Suleiman, the Turkish emperor, + Perform'd by pleasure by your son the prince, + My nephew Don Lorenzo, and my niece. + + VICE. Who? Bel-imperia? + + KING. Aye; and Hieronimo our marshall, + At whose request they deign to do't themselves. + These be our pastimes in the court of Spain. + Here, brother, you shall be the book-keeper: + This is the argument of that they show. + + He giveth him a book. + +[Gentlemen, this play of Hieronimo in sundry languages was thought +good to be set down in English more largely, for the easier +understanding to every publique reader.] + + Enter BALTHAZAR, BEL-IMPERIA, and + HIERONIMO. + + BALTHAZAR. [acting] Bashaw, that Rhodes is ours yield + Heav'ns the honour + And holy Mahomet, our sacred prophet! + And be thou grac'd with every excellence + That Suleiman can give or thou desire! + But thy desert in conquering Rhodes is less + Then in reserving this fair Christian nymph, + Perseda, blissful lamp of excellence, + Whose eyes compel, like powerful adamant, + The warlike heart of Suleiman to wait. + + KING. See, viceroy, that is Balthazar your son, + That represents the Emperor Suleiman: + How well he acts his amorous passion! + + VICE. Aye; Bel-imperia hath taught him that. + + CASTILE: That's because his mind runs all on Bel-imperia. + + HIERO. [acting] Whatever joy earth yields betide your Majesty! + + BALT. [acting] Earth yields no joy without Perseda's love. + + HIERO. [acting] Let then Perseda on your Grace attend. + + BALT. [acting] She shall not wait on me, but I on her! + Drawn by the influence of her lights, I yield. + But let my friend, the Rhodian knight, come forth,-- + Erasto, dearer than my life to me,-- + That he may see Perseda, my belov'd. + + Enter ERASTO [LORENZO]. + + KING. Here comes Lorenzo: look upon the plot + And tell me, brother, what part plays he. + + BEL. [acting] Ah, my Erasto! Welcome to Perseda! + + LO. [acting] Thrice happy is Erasto that thou livest! + Rhodes' loss is nothing to Erasto's joy; + Sith his Perseda lives, his life survives. + + BALT. [acting] Ah, bashaw, here is love between Erasto + And fair Perseda, sovereign of my soul! + + HIERO. [acting] Remove Erasto, mighty Suleiman, + And then Perseda will be quickly won. + + BALT. [acting] Erasto is my friend; and, while he lives, + Perseda never will remove her love. + + HIERO. [acting] Let not Erasto live to grieve great Suleiman! + + BALT. [acting] Dear is Erasto in our princely eye. + + HIERO. [acting] But, if he be your rival, let him die! + + BALT. [acting] Why, let him die! so love commaundeth me. + Yet grieve I that Erasto should so die. + + HIERO. [acting] Erasto, Suleiman saluteth thee, + And lets thee wit by me his Highness' will, + Which is, thou should'st be thus employ'd. + + Stabs him. + + BEL. [acting] Ay, me, Erasto! See, Suleiman, Erasto's slain! + + BALT. [acting] Yet liveth Suleiman to comfort thee. + Fair queen of beauty, let not favour die, + But with a gracious eye behold his grief, + That with Perseda's beauty is increas'd, + If by Perseda grief be not releas'd. + + BEL. [acting] Tyrant, desist soliciting vain suits; + Relentless are mine ears to thy laments + As thy butcher is pitiless and base + Which seiz'd on my Erasto, harmless knight. + Yet by thy power thou thinkest to command, + And to thy power Perseda doth obey; + But, were she able, thus she would revenge + Thy treacheries on thee, ignoble prince; + + Stabs him. + + And on herself she would be thus revengd. + + Stabs herself. + + KING. Well said, old marshall! this was bravely done! + + HIERO. But Bel-imperia plays Perseda well. + + VICE. Were this in earnest, Bel-imperia, + You would be better to my son than so. + + KING. But now what follows for Hieronimo? + + HIERO. Marry, this follows for Hieronimo! + Here break we off our sundry languages, + And thus conclude I in our vulgar tongue: + Haply you think--but bootless are your thoughts-- + That this is fabulously counterfeit, + And that we do as all tragedians do,-- + To die today, for fashioning our scene, + The death of Ajax, or some Roman peer, + And, in a minute starting up again, + Revive to please tomorrow's audience. + No, princes; know I am Hieronimo, + The hopeless father of a hapless son, + Whose tongue is tun'd to tell his latest tale, + Not to excuse gross errors in the play. + I see your looks urge instance of these words: + Behold the reason urging me to this! + + Shows his dead son. + + See here my show; look on this spectacle! + Here lay my hope, and here my hope hath end; + Here lay my heart, and here my heart was slain; + Here lay my treasure, here my treasure lost; + Here lay my bliss, and here my bliss bereft. + But hope, heart, treasure, joy and bliss,-- + All fled, fail'd, died, yea, all decay'd with this. + From forth these wounds came breath that gave me life; + They murder'd me that made these fatal marks. + The cause was love whence grew this mortal hate: + The hate, Lorenzo and young Balthazar; + The love, my son to Bel-imperia. + But night, the cov'rer of accursed crimes, + With pitchy silence hush'd these traitors' harms, + And lent them leave--for they had sorted leisure-- + To take advantage in my garden plot + Upon my son, my dear Horatio. + There merciless they butcher'd up my boy, + In black, dark night, to pale, dim, cruel death! + He shrieks; I heard--and yet, methinks, I hear-- + His dismal out-cry echo in the air; + With soonest speed I hasted to the noise, + Where, hanging on a tree, I found my son + Through-girt with wounds and slaughter'd, as you see. + And griev'd I, think you, at this spectacle? + Speak, Portuguese, whose loss resembles mine! + If thou canst weep upon thy Balthazar, + 'Tis like I wail'd for my Horatio. + And you, my lord, whose reconciled son + March'd in a net and thought himself unseen, + And rated me for a brainsick lunacy, + With "God amend that mad Hieronimo!"-- + How can you brook our play's catastrophe? + And here behold this bloody handkerchief, + Which at Horatio's death I weeping dipp'd + Within the river of his bleeding wounds! + It as propitious, see, I have reserv'd, + And never hath it left my bloody heart, + Soliciting remembrance of my vow + With these, O these accursed murderers! + Which now perform'd, my heart is satisfied. + And to this end the bashaw I became, + That might revenge me on Lorenzo's life, + Who therefore was appointed to the part + And was to represent the knight of Rhodes, + That I might kill him more conveniently. + So, viceroy, was this Balthazar thy son-- + That Suleiman which Bel-imperia + In person of Perseda murdered,-- + Solely appointed to that tragic part, + That she might slay him that offended her. + Poor Bel-imperia miss'd her part in this: + For, though the story saith she should have died, + Yet I, of kindness and of care for her, + Did otherwise determine of her end. + But love of him whom they did hate too much + Did urge her resolution to be such. + And princes, now behold Hieronimo, + Author and actor in this tragedy, + Bearing his latest fortune in his fist; + And will as resolute conclude his part + As any of the actors gone before. + And, gentles, thus I end my play! + Urge no more words, I have no more to say. + + He runs to hang himself. + + KING. O hearken, viceroy; hold Hieronimo! + Brother, my nephew and thy son are slain! + + VICE. We are betray'd! my Balthazar is slain! + Break ope the doors; run save Hieronimo! + Hieronimo, do but inform the king of these events; + Upon mine honour, thou shalt have no harm! + + HIERO. Viceroy, I will not trust thee with my life, + Which I this day have offer'd to my son: + Accursed wretch, why stayst thou him that was resolv'd to die? + + KING. Speak, traitor! damned, bloody murd'rer, speak!-- + For, now I have thee, I will make thee speak! + Why hast thou done this undeserving deed? + + VICE. Why hast thou murdered my Balthazar? + + CAS. Why hast thou butcher'd both my children thus? + + HIERO. O good words! As dear to me was Horatio + As yours, or yours, my lord, to you. + My guiltless son was by Lorenzo slain; + And by Lorenzo and that Balthazar + Am I at last revenged thoroughly,-- + Upon whose souls may Heav'n be yet aveng'd + With greater far than these afflictions! + + CAS. But who were thy confederates in this? + + VICE. That was thy daughter Bel-imperia; + For by her hand my Balthazar was slain,-- + I saw her stab him. + + KING. Why speak'st thou not? + + HIERO. What lesser liberty can kings afford + Than harmless silence? Then afford it me! + Sufficeth I may not nor I will not tell thee. + + KING. Fetch forth the tortures! + Traitor as thou art, I'll make thee tell! + + HIERO. Indeed? + Thou mayst torment me as his wretched son + Hath done in murd'ring my Horatio; + But never shalt thou force me to reveal + The thing which I have vow'd inviolate. + And therefore, in despite of all thy threats, + Pleas'd with their deaths, and eas'd with their revenge, + First take my tongue, and afterwards my heart! + + He bites out his tongue. + + KING. O monstrous resolution of a wretch! + See, Viceroy, he hath bitten forth his tongue + Rather than reveal what we require'd. + + CAS. Yet can he write. + + KING. And if in this he satisfy us not, + We will devise th' extremest kind of death + That ever was invented for a wretch. + + Then he makes signs for a knife to mend his pen. + + CAS. O, he would have a knife to mend his pen. + + VICE. Here; and advise thee that thou write the troth,-- + Look to my brother! save Hieronimo! + + He with a knife stabs the DUKE and himself. + + KING. What age hath ever heard such monstrous deeds? + My brother and the whole succeeding hope + That Spain expected after my decease. + Go bear his body hence, that we may mourn + The loss of our beloved brother's death, + That he may be entomb'd. Whate'er befall, + I am the next, the nearest, last of all. + + VICE. And thou, Don Pedro, do the like for us: + Take up our hapless son untimely slain; + Set me up with him, and he with woeful me, + Upon the main-mast of a ship unmann'd, + And let the wind and tide hale me along + To Scylla's barking and untamed gulf + Or to the loathsome pool of Acheron, + To weep my want for my sweet Balthazar. + Spain hath no refuge for a Portingale! + + The trumpets sound a dead march, the KING OF SPAIN + mourning after his brother's body, and the KING OF + PORTINGAL bearing the body of his son. + + +[CHORUS.] + + Enter GHOST and REVENGE. + + GHOST. Aye; now my hopes have end in their effects, + When blood and sorrow finish my desires: + Horatio murder'd in his father's bower, + Vile Serberine by Pedrigano slain, + False Pedrigano hang'd by quaint device, + Fair Isabella by herself misdone, + Prince Balthazar by Bel-imperia stabb'd, + The Duke of Castile and his wicked son + Both done to death by old Hieronimo, + My Bel-imperia fallen as Dido fell, + And good Hieronimo slain by himself! + Aye, these were spectacles to please my soul. + Now will I beg at lovely Proserpine + That, by the virtue of her princely doom, + I may consort my friends in pleasing sort, + And on my foes work just and sharp revenge. + I'll lead my friend Horatio through those fields + Where never-dying wars are still inur'd; + I'll lead fair Isabella to that train + Where pity weeps but never feeleth pain; + I'll lead my Bel-imperia to those joys + That vestal virgins and fair queens possess; + I'll lead Hieronimo where Orpheus plays, + Adding sweet pleasure to eternal days. + But say, Revenge,--for thou must help or none,-- + Against the rest how shall my hate be shown? + + REVENGE. This hand shall hale them down to deepest hell, + Where none but furies, bugs and tortures dwell. + + GHOST. Then, sweet Revenge, do this at my request: + Let me judge and doom them to unrest; + Let loose poor Titius from the vulture's gripe, + And let Don Ciprian supply his room; + Place Don Lorenzo on Ixion's wheel, + And let the lovers' endless pains surcease, + Juno forget old wrath and grant him ease; + Hang Balthazar about Chimera's neck, + And let him there bewail his bloody love, + Repining at our joys that are above; + Let Serberine go roll the fatal stone + And take from Sisyphus his endless moan; + False Pedringano, for his treachery, + Let him be dragg'd through boiling Acheron, + And there live dying still in endless flames, + Blaspheming gods and all their holy names. + + REVENGE. Then haste we down to meet thy friends and foes; + To place thy friends in ease, the rest in woes. + For here though death doth end their misery, + I'll there begin their endless tragedy. + + Exeunt. + + + + FINIS. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spanish Tragedy, by Thomas Kyd + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPANISH TRAGEDY *** + +***** This file should be named 35330.txt or 35330.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/3/3/35330/ + +Produced by Richard Schwarz + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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