The Spanish Tragedie



LORENZO. My lord, though Bel-imperia seeme thus coy, Let reason holde you in your wonted ioy: In time the sauage bull sustaines the yoake, In time all haggard hawkes will stoope to lure, In time small wedges cleaue the hardest oake, In time the [hardest] flint is pearst with softest shower; And she in time will fall from her disdaine, And rue the sufferance of your freendly paine.

BAL. No; she is wilder, and more hard withall, Then beast or bird, or tree or stony wall! But wherefore blot I Bel-imperias name? It is my fault, not she that merits blame. My feature is not to content her sight; My wordes are rude and worke her no delight; The lines I send her are but harsh and ill, Such as doe drop from Pan and Marsias quill; My presents are not of sufficient cost; And, being worthles, all my labours lost. Yet might she loue me for my valiancie. I; but thats slandred by captiuitie. Yet might she loue me to content her sire. I; but her reason masters [her] desire. Yet might she loue me as her brothers freend. I; but her hopes aime at some other end. Yet might she loue me to vpreare her state. I; but perhaps she [loues] some nobler mate. Yet might she loue me as her beauties thrall. I; but I feare she cannot loue at all.

LOR. My lord, for my sake leaue these extasies, And doubt not but weele finde some remedie. Some cause there is that lets you not be loued: First that must needs be knowne, and then remoued. What if my sister loue some other knight?

BAL. My sommers day will turne to winters night.

LOR. I haue already founde a strategeme To sound the bottome of this doubtfull theame. My lord, for once you shall be rulde by me; Hinder me not what ere you heare or see: By force or faire meanes will I cast about To finde the truth of all this question out. Ho, Pedringano!

PED. Signior.

LOR. Vien qui presto!

PED. Hath your lordship any seruice to command me?

LOR. I, Pedringano, seruice of import. And, not to spend the time in trifling words, Thus stands the case: it is not long, thou knowst, Since I did shield thee from my fathers wrath For thy conueniance in Andreas love, For which thou wert adiudg'd to punishment; I stood betwixt thee and thy punishment, And since thou knowest how I haue favored thee. Now to these fauours will I adde reward, Not with faire woords, but store of golden coyne And lands and liuing ioynd with dignities, If thou but satisfie my iust demaund; Tell truth and haue me for thy lasting freend.

PED. What-ere it be your lordship shall demaund, My bounden duety bids me tell the truth, If case it lye in me to tell the truth.

LOR. Then, Pedringano, this is my demaund; Whome loues my sister Bel-imperia? For she reposeth all her trust in thee. Speak, man, and gaine both freendship and reward: I meane, whome loues she in Andreas place?

PED. Alas, my lord, since Don Andreas death I haue no credit with her as before, And therefore know not if she loue or no.

LOR. Nay, if thou dally, then I am thy foe, And feare shall force what frendship cannot winne. Thy death shall bury what thy life conceales. Thou dyest for more esteeming her than me!

PED. Oh stay, my lord!

LOR. Yet speak the truth, and I will guerdon thee And shield thee from what-euer can ensue, And will conceale what-euer proceeds from thee; But, if thou dally once againe, thou diest!

PED. If madame Bel-imperia be in loue—

LOR. What, villaine! ifs and ands?

PED. Oh stay, my lord! she loues Horatio!

LOR. What! Don Horatio, our knight-marshals sonne?

PED. Euen him, my lord.

LOR. Now say but how knoest thou he is her loue, And thou shalt finde me kinde and liberall. Stand vp, I say, and feareles tell the truth.

PED. She sent him letters,— which my-selfe perusde,— Full-fraught with lines and arguments of loue, Perferring him before Prince Balthazar.

LOR. Sweare on this crosse that what thou saiest is true, And that thou wilt conseale what thou hast tolde.

PED. I sweare to both, by him that made vs all.

LOR. In hope thine oath is true, heeres thy reward. But, if I proue thee periurde and vniust, This very sword whereon thou tookst thine oath Shall be the worker of thy tragedie.

PED. What I haue saide is true, and shall, for me, Be still conceald from Bel-imperia. Besides, your Honors liberalitie Deserues my duteous seruice euen till death.

LOR. Let this be all that thou shall doe for me: Be watchfull when and where these louers meete, And giue me notice in some secret sort.

PED. I will, my lord.

LOR. Then thou shalt finde that I am liberall. Thou knowest that I can more aduance thy state Then she: be therefore wise and faile me not. Goe and attend her as thy custome is, Least absence make her think thou doost amisse.

Why, so, Tam armis quam ingenio: Where wordes preuaile not, violence preuailes. But golde doth more than either of them both. How likes Prince Balthazar this strategeme?

BAL. Both well and ill; it makes me glad and sad: Glad, that I know the hinderer of my loue; Sad, that I fear she hates me whome I loue; Glad, that I know on whome to be reueng'd; Sad, that sheele flie me if I take reuenge. Yet must I take reuenge or dye my-selfe; For loue resisted growes impatient. I think Horatio be my destind plague: First, in his hand he brandished a sword, And with that sword he fiercely waged warre, And in that warre he gaue me dangerous wounds, And by those wounds he forced me to yeeld, And by my yeelding I became his slaue; Now, in his mouth he carries pleasing words, Which pleasing wordes doe harbour sweet conceits, Which sweet conceits are lim'd with slie deceits, Which slie deceits smooth Bel-imperias eares, And through her eares diue downe into her hart, And in her hart set him, where I should stand. Thus hath he tane my body by force, And now by sleight would captiuate my soule; But in his fall Ile tempt the Destinies, And either loose my life or winne my loue.

LOR. Lets goe, my lord; [our] staying staies reuenge. Doe but follow me, and gaine your loue; Her fauour must be wonne by his remooue.

HOR. Now, madame, since by fauour of your love Our hidden smoke is turnd to open flame, And that with lookes and words we feed our thought,— Two chiefe contents where more cannot be had,— Thus in the midst of loues faire blandeshments Why shew you signe of inward languishments?

BEL. My hart, sweet freend, is like a ship at sea: She wisheth port, where, riding all at ease, She may repaire what stormie times haue worne, And, leaning on the shore, may sing with ioy That pleasure followes paine, and blisse annoy. Possession of thy loue is th' onely port Wherein my hart, with feares and hopes long tost, Each howre doth wish and long to make resort, There to repaire the ioyes that it hath lost, And, sitting safe, to sing in Cupids quire That sweetest blisse is crowne of loues desire.

BAL. O sleepe, mine eyes; see not my loue prophande! Be deafe, my ears; heare not my discontent! Dye, hart; another ioyes what thou deseruest!

LOR. Watch still, mine eyes, to see this loue disioyned! Heare still, mine eares, to heare them both lament! Liue, hart, to ioy at fond Horatios fall!

BEL. Why stands Horatio speecheles all this while?

HOR. The lesse I speak, the more I meditate.

BEL. But whereon doost thou cheifely meditate?

HOR. On dangers past and pleasures to ensue.

BAL. On pleasures past and dangers to ensue!

BEL. What dangers and what pleasures doost thou mean?

HOR. Dangers of warre and pleasures of our loue.

LOR. Dangers of death, but pleasures none at all!

BEL. Let dangers goe; thy warre shall be with me, But such a [warre] as breakes no bond of peace. Speake thou faire words, Ile crosse them with faire words; Send thou sweet looks, Ile meet them with sweet looks; Write louing lines, Ile answere louing lines; Giue me a kisse, Ile counterchecke thy kisse: Be this our warring peace, or peacefull warre.

HOR. But, gratious madame, then appoint the field Where triall of this warre shall first be made.

BAL. Ambitious villaine, how his boldenes growes!

BEL. Then be thy fathers pleasant bower in the field,— Where first we vowd a mutuall amitie. The court were dangerous; that place is safe. Our howre shalbe when Vesper ginnes to rise, That summons home distresfull trauellers. There none shall heare vs but the harmeles birds: Happelie the gentle nightingale Shall carroll vs a-sleepe ere we be ware, And, singing wit the prickle at her breast, Tell our delight and mirthfull dalliance. Till then, each houre will seeme a yeere and more.

HOR. But, honie-sweet and honorable loue, Returne we now into your fathers sight; Dangerous suspition waits on our delight.

LOR. I, danger mixt with iealous despite Shall send thy soule into eternalle night!

KING. Brother of Castille, to the princes loue What saies your daughter Bel-imperia?

CIP. Although she coy it, as becomes her kinde, And yet dissemble that she loues the prince, I doubt not, I, but she will stoope in time; And, were she froward,— which she will not be,— Yet heerin shall she follow my aduice, Which is to loue him or forgoe my loue.

KING. Then, lord embassadour of Portingale, Aduise thy king to make this marriage vp For strengthening of our late-confirmed league; I know no better meanes to make vs freends. Her dowry shall be large and liberall; Besides that she is daughter and halfe heire Vnto our brother heere, Don Ciprian, And shall enioy the moitie of his land, Ile grace her marriage with an vnckles gift, And this is it: in case the match goe forward, The tribute which you pay shalbe releast; And, if by Balthazar she haue a sonne, He shall enioy the kingdome after vs.

EMBAS. Ile make the motion to my soueraigne liege, And worke it if my counsaile may preuaile.

KING. Doe so, my lord; and, if he giue consent, I hope his presence heere will honour vs In celebration of the nuptiall day,— And let himselfe determine of the time.

EM. Wilt please your Grace command me ought besid?

KING. Commend me to the king; and so, farewell! But wheres Prince Balthazar, to take his leaue?

EM. That is perfourmd alreadie, my good lord.

KING. Amongst the rest of what you haue in charge, The princes raunsome must not be forgot: Thats none of mine, but his that tooke him prisoner,— And well his forwardnes deserues reward: It was Horatio, our knight-marshalls sonne.

EM. Betweene vs theres a price already pitcht, And shall be send with all conuenient speed.

KING. Then once againe farewell, my lord!

EM. Farwell, my lord of Castile, and the rest!

KING. Now, brother, you must make some little paines To winne faire Bel-imperia from her will; Young virgins must be ruled by their freends. The prince is amiable, and loues her well; If she neglect him and forgoe his loue, She both will wrong her owne estate and ours. Therefore, whiles I doe entertaine the prince With greatest pleasure that our court affoords, Endeauor you to winne your daughters thought. If she giue back, all this will come to naught.

HOR. Now that the night begins with sable wings To ouer-cloud the brightnes of the sunne, And that in darkenes pleasures may be done, Come, Bel-imperia, let vs to the bower, And there is safetie passe a pleasant hower.

BEL. I follow thee, my loue, and will not backe, Although my fainting hart controles my soule.

HOR. Why, make you doubt of Pedringanos faith?

BEL. No; he is as trustie as my second selfe. Goe, Pedringano, watch without the gate, And let vs known if any make approach.

PED. [aside] In-steed of watching, Ile deserue more golde By fetching Don Lorenzo to this match.

HOR. What means my loue?

BEL. I know not what, my-selfe; And yet my hart foretels me some some mischaunce.

HOR. Sweet, say not so; faire Fortune is our freend, And heauens haue shut vp day to pleasure vs. The starres, thou seest, holde back their twinckling shine And Luna hides her-selfe to pleasure vs.

BEL. Thou hast preuailed! Ile conquer my misdoubt, And in thy loue and councell drowne my feare. I feare no more; loue now is all my thoughts! Why sit we not? for pleasure asketh ease.

HOR. The more thou sitst within these leauy bowers, The more will Flora decke it with her flowers.

BEL. I; but, if Flora spye Horatio heere, Her iealous eye will think I sit too neere.

HOR. Harke, madame, how the birds record by night, For ioy that Bel-imperia sits in sight!

BEL. No; Cupid counterfeits the nightingale, To frame sweet musick to Horatios tale.

HOR. If Cupid sing, then Venus is not farre,— I, thou art Venus, or some fairer starre!

BEL. If I be Venus, thou must needs be Mars; And where Mars raigneth, there must needs be warres.

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 lookes shall combat against thee.

BEL. Then ward thy-selfe! I dart this kiss as thee.

HOR. Thus I [return] the dart thou threwest at me!

BEL. Nay then, to gaine the glory of the field, My twining armes shall yoake and make thee yeeld.

HOR. Nay then, my armes are large and strong withall: Thus elmes by vines are compast till they fall.

BEL. O, let me goe, for in my troubled eyes Now maist thou read that life in passion dies!

HOR. O, stay a-while, and I will dye with thee; So shalt thou yeeld, and yet haue conquerd me.

BEL. Whose there? Pedringano? We are betraide!

LOR. My lord, away with her! take her aside! O sir, forbeare, your valour is already tride. Quickly dispatch, my maisters.

HOR. What, will you murder me?

LOR. I; thus! and thus! these are the fruits of loue!

BEL. O, saue his life, and let me dye for him! O, saue him, brother! saue him, Balthazar! I loued Horatio, but he loued not me.

BAL. But Balthazar loues Bel-imperia.

LOR. Although his life were still ambitious, proud, Yet is he at the highest now he is dead.

BEL. Murder! murder! helpe! Hieronimo, helpe!

LOR. Come, stop her mouth! away with her!

HIERO. What outcried pluck me from my naked bed, And chill my throbbing hart with trembling feare, Which neuer danger yet could daunt before? Who cals Hieronimo? speak; heare I am! I did not slumber; therefore twas no dreame. No, no; it was some woman cride for helpe. And heere within this garden did she crie, And in this garden must I rescue her. But stay! what murderous spectacle is this? A man hanged vp, and all the murderers gone! And in the bower, to lay the guilt on me! This place was made for pleasure not for death.

Those garments that he weares I oft haue seene,— Alas! it is Horatio, my sweet sonne! O, no; but he that whilome was my sonne! O, was it thou that call'dst me from my bed? O, speak, if any sparke of life remaine! I am thy father. Who hath slaine my sonne? What sauadge monster, not of humane kinde, Hath heere beene glutted with thy harmeles blood, And left they bloudie corpes dishonoured heere, For me amidst these darke and dreadfull shades To drowne thee with an ocean of my teares? O heauens, why made you night, to couer sinne? By day this deed of darknes had not beene. O earth, why didst thou not in time deuoure The [vile] prophaner of this sacred bower? O poore Horatio, what hadst thou misdoone To leese thy life ere life was new begun? O wicked butcher, what-so-ere thou wert, How could thou strangle vertue and desert? Ay me, most wretched! that haue lost my ioy In leesing my Horatio, my sweet boy!

ISA. My husbands absence makes my hart to throb. Hieronimo!

HIERO. Heere, Isabella. Helpe me to lament; For sighes are stopt, and all my teares are spent.

ISA. What worlde of griefe— my sonne Horatio! O wheres the author of this endles woe?

HIERO. To know the author were some ease of greefe, For in reuenge my hart would finde releefe.

ISA. Then is he gone? and is my sonne gone too? O, gush out, teares! fountains and flouds of teares! Blow, sighes, and raise and euerlasting storme; For outrage fits our cursed wretchedness.

HIERO. Sweet louely rose, ill pluckt before thy time! Faire, worthy sonne, not conquerd, but betraid! Ile kisse thee now, for words with teares are [stainde].

ISA. And Ile close vp the glasses of his sight; For once these eyes were onely my delight.

HIERO. Seest thou this handkercher besmerd with blood? It shall not from me till I take reuenge; Seest thou those wounds that yet are bleeding fresh? Ile not intombe them till I haue reueng'd: Then will I ioy amidst my discontent, Till then, my sorrow neuer shalbe spent.

ISA. The heauens are iust, murder cannot be hid; Time is the author of both truth and right, And time will bring this trecherie to light.

HIERO. Meane-while, good Isabella, cease thy plaints, Or, at the least, dissemble them awhile; So shall we sooner finde the practise out, And learne by whome all this was brought about. Come, Isabell, now let vs take him vp.

And beare him in from out this cursed place. Ile say his dirge,— singing fits not this case. O aliquis mihi quas pulchrum ver educet herbas

Misceat, et nostro detur medicina dolori; Aut siqui faciunt annorum obliuia succos Prebeat; ipse metam megnum quaecunque per orbem Gramina sol pulchras eiecit lucis in oras. Ipse bibam quicquid meditatur saga veneni, Quicquid et irarum ui caeca nenia nectit. Omnia perpetiar, lethum quoque, dum semel omnis Nost in extincto moriatur pectore sensus. Ergo tua perpetuus speeliuit limunia somnus? Emoriar tecum: sic, sic iuuat ire sub vmbras! Attamen absistam properato cedere letho, Ne mortem vindicta tuam tum nulla sequatur.

ANDREA. Broughtst thou me hether to increase my paine? I lookt that Balthazar should haue been slaine; But tis my freend Horatio that is slaine, And they abuse faire Bel-imperia, On whom I doted more then all the world, Because she lou'd me more then all the world.

REUENGE. Thou talkest of haruest, when the corne is greene; The end is [growne] of euery worke well done; The sickle comes not till the corne be ripe. Be still, and, ere I lead thee from this place, Ile shew thee Balthazar in heauy case.

VICEROY. Infortunate condition of kings, Seated amidst so many helples doubts! First,we are plast vpon extreamest height, And oft supplanted with exceeding hate, But euer subiect to the wheele of chance; And at our highest neuer ioy we so As we doubt and dread our ouerthrow. So striueth not the waues with sundry winds As fortune toyleth in the affaires of kings, That would be feard, yet feare to be beloued, Sith feare and loue to kings is flatterie. For instance, lordings, look vpon your king, By hate depriued of his dearest sonne, The only hope of our successiue line.

NOB. I had not thought that Alexandros hart Had beene enuenomde with such extreame hate; But now I see that words haue seuerall workes, And theres no credit in the countenance.

VIL. No, for, my lord, had you beholde the traine That fained loue had coloured in his lookes When he in campe consorted Balthazar, Farre more inconstant had you thought the sunne, That howerly coasts the center of the earth, Then Alexandros purpose to the prince.

VICE. No more, Villuppo! thou hast said enough, And with thy words thou saiest our wounded thoughts. Nor shall I longer dally with the world, Procrastinating Alexandros death. Goe, some of you, and fetch the traitor forth, That, as he is condemned, he may dye.

NOB. In such extreames will nought but patience serue.

ALEX. But in extreames what patience shall I vse? Nor discontents it me to leaue the world, With whome there nothing can preuaile but wrong.

NOB. Yet hope the best.

ALEX. Tis heauen my hope: As for the earth, it is too much infect To yeeld me hope of any of her mould.

VICE. Why linger ye? bring froth that daring feend, And let him die for his accursed deed.

ALEX. Not that I feare the extremitie of death— For nobles cannot stoop to seruile feare— Doo I, O king, thus discontented liue; But this, O this, torments my labouring soule, That thus I die suspected of a sinne Whereof, as Heauens haue knowne my secret thoughts, So am I free from this suggestion!

VICE. No more, I say; to the tortures! when? Binde him, and burne his body in those flames,

That shall prefigure those vnquenched fiers Of Phlegiton prepared for his soule.

ALEX. My guiltles death will be aueng'd on thee! On thee, Villuppo, that hath malisde thus, Or for thy meed hast falsely me accusde!

VIL. Nay, Alexandro, if thou menace me, Ile lend a hand to send thee to the lake Where those thy words shall perish with thy workes, Iniurious traitour, monstrous homicide!

[EM.] Stay! hold a-while! and heer, with pardon of His Maiestie, lay hands vpon Villuppo!

VICE. Embassadour, what newes nath vrg'd this sodain entrance?

EM. Know, soueraigne l[ord], that Balthazar doth liue.

VICE. What saiest thou? liueth Balthazar, our sonne?

EM. Your Highnes sonne, L[ord] Balthazar doth liue, And, well intreated in the court of Spaine, Humbly commends him to your Maiestie. These eies beheld; and these my followers, With these, the letters of the kings commend,

Are happie witnesses of his Highnes health.

VICE. [reads] "Thy sonne doth liue; your tribute is receiu'd; Thy peace is made, and we are satisfied. The rest resolue vpon as things proposde For both our honors and they benefite."

EM. These are his Highnes farther articles.

VICE. Accursed wrech to intimate these ills Against the life and reputation Of noble Alexandro! come, my lord, vnbinde him! [To ALEXANDRO] Let him vnbinde thee that is bounde to death, To make a quitall for thy discontent.

ALEX. Dread lord, in kindnes you could do no lesse, Vpon report of such a damned fact; But thus we see our innocence hath sau'd The hopeles like which thou, Villuppo, sought By thy suggestions to haue massacred.

VICE. Say, false Villuppo, wherefore didst thou thus Falsely betray Lord Alexandros life? Him whom thou knowest that no vnkindenes els But euen the slaughter of our deerest sonne Could once haue moued vs to haue misconceaued.

ALEX. Say, trecherous Villuppo; tell the King! Or wherein hath Alexandro vsed thee ill?

VIL. Rent with remembrance of so foule a deed, My guiltie soule submits me to thy doome, For, not for Alexandros iniuries, But for reward and hope to be preferd, Thus haue I shamelesly hazarded his life.

VICE. Which, villaine, shalbe ransomed with thy death, And not so meane a torment as we heere Deuised for him who thou saidst slew our sonne, But with the bitterest torments and extreames That may be yet inuented for thine end.

Intreat me not! Goe, take the traitor hence!

And, Alexandro, let vs honor thee With publique notice of thy loyaltie. To end those things articulated heere By our great l[ord], the mightie king of Spaine, We with our councell will deliberate. Come, Alexandro, keepe vs company.

HIERO. Oh eies! no eies but fountains fraught with teares; Oh life! no life, but liuely fourme of death; Oh world! no world, but masse of publique wrongs, Confusde and filde with murder and misdeeds; Oh sacred heauens, if this vnhallowed deed, If this inhumane and barberous attempt, If this incomparable murder thus Of mine, but now no more my sonne Shall pass vnreueald and vnreuenged passe, How should we tearme your dealings to be iust, If you vniustly deale with those that in your iustice trust? The night, sad secretary to my mones, With direfull visions wake my vexed soule, And with the wounds of my distresfull sonne Solicite me for notice of his death; The ougly feends do sally forth of hell, And frame my hart with fierce inflamed thoughts; The cloudie day my discontents records, Early begins to regester my dreames And driue me forth to seeke the murtherer. Eies, life, world, heauens, hel, night and day, See, search, show, send, some man, some meane, that may!

Whats heere? a letter? Tush, it is not so! A letter for Hieronimo. [Reads] "For want of incke receiue this bloudie writ. Me hath my haples brother hid from thee. Reuenge thy-selfe on Balthazar and him, For these were they that murdered thy sonne. Hieronimo, reuenge Horatios death, And better fare then Bel-imperia doth!"— What meanes this vnexpected miracle? My sonne slaine by Lorenzo and the prince? What cause had they Horatio to maligne? Or what might mooue thee, Bel-imperia, To accuse they brother, had he beene the meane? Hieronimo, beware! thou art betraide, And to intrap they life this traine is laide. Aduise thee therefore, be not credulous: This is deuised to endanger thee, That thou, by this, Lorenzo shoulst accuse. And he, for thy dishonour done, show draw Thy life in question and thy name in hate. Deare was the life of my beloved sonne, And of his death behoues me to be aueng'd: Then hazard not thine own, Hieronimo, But liue t'effect thy resolution! I therefore will by circumstances trie What I can gather to confirme this writ, And, [harken] neere the Duke of Castiles house, Close if I can with Belimperia, To listen more, but nothing to bewray.

Now, Predringano!

PED. Now, Hieronimo!

HIERO. Wheres thy lady?

PED. I know not; heers my lord.

LOR. How now, whose this? Hieronimo?

HIERO. My lord.

PED. He asketh me for my lady Bel-imperia.

LOR. What to doo, Hieronimo? Vse me.

[Dialogue from the undated and the 'A' manuscript.]

HIERO. Oh, no, my lord, I dare not, it must not be; I humbly thank your lordship.

[End of insertion.]

[Dialogue from the 1618, 1623, and 1633 editions.]

HIERO. Who? You, my lord? I reserue your favour for a greater honour; This is a very toy, my lord, a toy.

LOR. All's one, Hieronimo; acquaint me with it.

HIERO. Y faith, my lord, tis an idle thing. I must confesse I ha bin too slacke, too tardy, To remisse vnto your Honour.

LOR. How now, Hieronimo?

HIERO. In troth, my lord, it is a thing of nothing: The murder of a sonne or so, my lord,— A thing of nothing.

[End of insertion.]

LOR. Why then, farewell!

HIERO. My griefe in hart, my thoughts no tung can tell.

LOR. Come hither, Pedringano; seest thou this?

PED. My lord, I see it, and suspect it too.

LOR. This is that damned villain Serberine, That hath, I feare, reuealde Horatios death.

PED. My lord, he could not; twas so lately done, And since he hath not left my company.

LOR. Admit he haue not; his conditions such As feare or flattering words may make him false. I know his humour, and there-with repent That ere I vsde him in this enterprise. But, Pedringano, to preuent the worst, And cause I know thee secret as my soule, Heere, for thy further satisfaction, take thou this!

And harken to me; thus it is deuisde: This night thou must— and prithee so resoule— Meet Serberine at St. Luigis Parke,— Thou knowest tis heere hard by behinde the house; There take thy stand, and see thou strike him sure, For dye he must, if we do meane to liue.

PED. But how shall Serberine be there, my lord?

LOR. Let me alone, Ile send him to meet The prince and me where thou must doe this deed.

PED. It shalbe done, my l[ord]; it shall be done; And Ile goe arme my-selfe to meet him there.

LOR. When things shall alter, as I hope they wil, Then shalt thou mount for this, thou knowest my minde.

Che le Ieron!

PAGE. My lord.

LOR. Goe, sirra, To Serberine, and bid him forthwith meet The prince and me at S. Luigis Parke, Behinde the house, this euening, boy.

PAGE. I goe, my lord.

LOR. But, sirra, let the houre be eight a-clocke. Bid him not faile.

PAGE. I flye, my lord.

LOR. Now to confirme the complot thou hast cast Of all these practices, Ile spread the watch, Vpon precise commandement from the king Strongly to guard the place where Pedringano This night shall murder haples Serberine. Thus must we worke that will auoide distrust, Thus must we practice to preuent mishap, And thus one ill another must expulse. This slie enquiry of Hieronimo For Bel-imperia, breeds suspition; And [thus] suspition boads a further ill. As for my-selfe, I know my secret fault, And so doe they, but I haue dealt for them. They that for coine their soules endangered To saue my life, for coyne shall venture theirs; And better tis that base companions dye Then by their life to hazard our good haps. Nor shall they liue for me to feare their faith; Ile trust my-selfe, my-selfe shall be my freend; For dye they shall,— Slaues are ordein[e]d to no other end.

PED. Now, Pedringano, bid thy pistoll holde; And holde on, Fortune! Once more fauour me! Giue but successe to mine attempting spirit, And let me shift for taking of mine aime. Heere is the golde! This is the golde proposde! It is no dreame that I aduenture for, But Pedringano is possest thereof. And he that would not straine his conscience For him that thus his liberall purse hath sretcht, Vnworthy such a fauour may he faile, And, wishing, want when such as I preuaile! As for the feare of apprehension, I know, if need should be, my noble lord Will stand betweene me and ensuing harmes. Besides, this place is free from all suspect. Heere therefore will I stay and take my stand.

I WATCH. I wonder much to what intent it is That we are thus expresly chargd to watch.

II WATCH. This by commandement in the kings own name.

III WATCH. But we were neuer wont to watch and ward So neere the duke his brothers house before.

II WATCH. Content your-selfe, stand close, theres somewhat int.

SER. [aside] Heere, Serberine, attend and stay thy pace; For heere did Don Lorenzos page appoint That thou by his command shouldst meet with him. How fit a place, if one were so disposde, Me thinks this corner is to close with one.

PED. [aside] Heere comes the bird that I must ceaze vpon; Now, Pedringano, or neuer play the man!

SER. [aside] I wonder that his lordship staies so long, Or wherefore should he send for me so late.

PED. For this, Serberine; and thou shalt ha'te!

So, there he lyes; my promise is performde.

I WATCH. Harke, gentlemen, this is a pistol shot!

II WATCH. And heeres one slaine; stay the murderer!

PED. Now, by the sorrowes of the soules in hell,

Who first laies hands on me, Ile be his priest!

III WATCH. Sirra, confesse, and therein play the priest. Why hast thou thus vnkindely kild the man?

PED. Why, because he walkt abroad so late.

III WATCH. Come sir, you had bene better kept your bed Then haue committed this misdeed so late.

II WATCH. Come to the marshalls with the murderer!

I WATCH. On to Hieronimos! helpe me heere To bring the murdred body with vs too.

PED. Hieronimo? Carry me before whom you will; What ere he be, Ile answere him and you. And doe your worst, for I defie you all!

BAL. How now, my lord? what makes you rise so soone?

LOR. Feare of preuenting our mishaps too late.

BAL. What mischiefe is it that we not mistrust?

LOR. Our greatest ils we least mistrust, my lord, And [unexpected] harmes do hurt vs most.

BAL. Why, tell me, Don Lorenz,— tell me, man, If ought concernes our honor and your owne!

LOR. Nor you nor me, my lord, but both in one; But I suspect— and the presumptions great— That by those base confederates in our fault Touching the death of Don Horatio We are all betraide to olde Hieronimo.

BAL. Betraide, Lorenzo? tush! it cannot be.

LOR. A guiltie conscience vrged with the thought Of former euils, easily cannot erre: I am perswaded— and diswade me not— That als reuealed to Hieronimo. And therefore know that I haue cast it thus—

But heeres the page. How now? what newes with thee?

PAGE. My lord, Serberine is slaine.

BAL. Who? Serberine, my man?

PAGE. Your Highnes man, my lord.

LOR. Speak, page: who murdered him?

PAGE. He that is apprehended for the fact.

LOR. Who?

PAGE. Pedringano.

BAL. Is Serberine slaine, that lou'd his lord so well? Iniurious villaine! murderer of his freend!

LOR. Hath Pedringano murdered Serberine? My lord, let me entreat you to take the paines To exasperate and hasten his reuenge With your complaints vnto my l[ord] the king. This their dissention breeds a greater doubt.

BAL. Assure thee, Don Lorenzo, he shall dye, Or els his Highnes hardly shall deny. Meane-while, Ile haste the marshall sessions, For die he shall for this damned deed.

LOR. [aside] Why, so! this fits our former pollicie; And thus experience bids the wise and deale. I lay the plot, he prosecutes the point; I set the trap, he breakes the worthles twigs, And sees not that wherewith the bird was limde. Thus hopefull men, that means to holde their owne, Must look, like fowlers, to their dearest freends. He runnes to kill whome I haue hope to catch, And no man knowes it was my reaching [fetch]. Tis hard to trust vnto a multitude,— Or any one, in mine opinion, When men themselues their secrets will reueale.

LOR. Boy.

PAGE. My lord.

LOR. Whats he?

MES. I haue a letter to your lordship.

LOR. From whence?

MES. From Pedringanos that's imprisoned.

LOR. So he is in prison then?

MES. I, my good lord.

LOR. What would he with vs?

To stand good l[ord] and help him in distres. Tell him I haue his letters, know his minde; And what we may, let him assure him of. Fellow, be gone; my boy shall follow thee.

[Aside] This works like waxe! Yet once more try thy wits.— Boy, goe conuay this purse to Pedringano,— Thou knowest the prison,— closely giue it him, And be aduisde that none here there-about. Bid him be merry still, but secret; And, though the marshall sessions be to-day, Bid him not doubt of his deliuerie. Tell him his pardon is already signde, And thereon bid him boldely be resolued; For, were he ready to be turned off,— As tis my will the vttermost be tride,— Thou with his pardon shalt attend him still. Shew him this boxe, tell him his pardons int; But opent not, and if thou louest thy life, But let him wisely keepe his hopes vnknowne. He shall not want while Don Lorenzo liues. Away!

PAGE. I goe, my lord, I runne!

LOR. But, sirra, see that this be cleanely done.

Now stands our fortune on a tickle point, And now or neuer ends Lorenzos doubts. One only thing is vneffected yet, And thats to see the executioner,— But to what end? I list not trust the aire With vtterance of our pretence therein, For feare the priuie whispring of the winde Conuay our words amongst vnfreendly eares, That lye too open to aduantages. Et quel che voglio io, nessun lo sa, Intendo io quel [che] mi bastera.

HIERO. Thus must we toyle in others mens extreames That know not how to rememdie our owne, And doe them iusties, when vniustly we For all our wrongs can compasse no redrese. But shall I neuer liue to see the day That I may come by iustice to the Heauens To know the cause that may my cares allay? This toyles my body, this consumeth age, That onley I to all men iust must be, And neither gods nor men be iust to me!

DEP. Worthy Hieronimo, your office askes A care to punish such as doe transgresse.

HIERO. So ist my duety to regarde his death Who when he liued deserued my dearest blood. But come; for that we came for, lets begin; For heere lyes that which bids me to be gone.

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 neerer matter that concerneth him, For feare his lordship had forgotten me; But, sith he hath rememberd me so well, Come, come, come on! when shall we to this geere?

HIERO. Stand forth, thou monster, murderer of men, And heere, for satisfaction of the world, Confesse thy folly and repent thy fault, For ther's thy place of execution.

PED. This is short worke! Well, to your martiallship First I confesse, nor feare I death therefore, I am the man,— twas I slew Serberine. But, sir, then you think this shalbe the place Where we shall satisfie you for this geare?

DEPU. I, Pedrigano.

PED. No I think not so.

HEIRO. Peace, impudent! for thou shalt finde it so; For blood with blood shall, while I sit as iudge, Be satisfied, and the law dischargde. And, though my-selfe cannot receiue the like, Yet will I see that others haue their right. Dispatch! the fault approued and confest, And by our law he is condemned to die.

HANG. Come on, sir! are you ready?

PED. To do what, my fine officious knaue?

HANG. To goe to this geere.

PED. O, sir, you are to forward; thou woulst faine furnish me with a halter, to disfurnish me of my habit. So should I goe out of this geere, my raiment, into that geere, the rope. But, hangman, now I spy your knauery, Ile not change without boot; thats flat.

HANG. Come, sir.

PED. So then I must vp?

HANG. No remedie.

PED. Yes, but there shalbe for my comming downe.

HANG. Indeed heers a remedie for that.

PED. How? be turnd off?

HANG. I, truly. Come, are you ready? I pray [you], sir, dispatch, the day goes away.

PED. What, doe you hang by the howre? If you doo, I may chance to break your olde custome.

HANG. Faith, you haue [no] reason, for I am like to break your yong neck.

PED. Dost thou mock me, hangman? Pray God I be not preserued to break your knaues-pate for this!

HANG. Alas, sir, you are a foot too low to reach it, and I hope you will neuer grow so high while I am in office.

PED. Sirra, dost see yonder boy with the box in his hand?

HANG. What, he that points to it with his finger?

PED. I, that companion.

HANG. I know him not; but what of him?

PED. Doost thou think to liue till his olde doublet will make thee a new truss?

HANG. I, and many a faire yeere after, to trusse vp many an honester man then either thou or he.

PED. What hath he in his boxe, as thou thinkst?

HANG. Faith, I cannot tell, nor I care not greatly. Me thinks you should rather hearken to your soules health.

PED. Why, sirra hangman, I take it that that is good for the body is likewise good for the soule: and it may be in that box is balme for both.

HANG. Wel, thou art euen the meriest peece of mans flesh that ere gronde at my office-doore.

PED. Is your roaguery become an office, with a knaues name?

HANG. I, and that shall all they witnes that see you seale it with a theeues name.

PED. I prithee, request this good company to pray [for] me.

HANG. I, mary, sir, this is a good motion! My maisters, you see heers a good fellow.

PED. Nay, nay, now I remember me, let them alone till some other time; for now I haue no great need.

HIERO. I haue not seen a wretch so impudent. O monstrous times where murders are so light, And where the soule that should be shrinde in heauen Solelie delights in interdicted things, Still wandring in the thornie passages That intercepts it-selfe of hapines! Murder? O bloudy monster! God forbid A fault so foule should scape vnpunished! Dispatch and see this execution done; This makes me to remember thee, my sonne.

PED. Nay, soft! no hast!

DEPU. Why, wherefore stay you? haue you hope of life?

PED. Why, I?

HANG. As how?

PED. Why, rascall, by my pardon from the king.

HANG. Stand you on that? then you shall off with this.

DEPU. So, executioner, conuey him hence; But let his body be vnburied. Let not the earth be chokt or infect What that which Heauens contemnes and men neglect.

HIER. Where shall I run to breath abroad my woes,— My woes whose weight hath wearied the earth, Or mine exclaimes that haue surcharged the aire With ceasles plaints for my deceased sonne? The blustring winds, conspiring with my words, At my lament haue moued to leaueless trees, Disroabde the medowes of their flowred greene, Made mountains marsh with spring-tides of my teares, And broken through the brazen gates of hell; Yet still tormented is my tortured soule With broken sighes and restles passions, That, winged, mount, and houering in the aire, Beat at the windowes of the brightest heauens, Soliciting for iustice and reuenge. But they are plac't in those imperiall heights, Where, countermurde with walles of diamond, I finde the place impregnable, and they Resist my woes and giue my words no way.

HANG. O Lord, sir! God blesse you, sir! The man, sir,— Petergade, sir: he that was so full of merie conceits—

HIER. Wel, what of him?

HANG. O Lord, sir! he went the wrong way; the fellow had a faire commission to the contrary. Sir, heere is his pasport, I pray you, sir; we haue done him wrong.

HIERO. I warrant thee; giue it me.

HANG. You will stand between the gallowes and me?

HIERO. I, I!

HANG. I thank your l[ord] worship.

HIERO. And yet, though somewhat neerer me concernes I will, to ease the greefe that I sustaine, Take truce with sorrow while I read on this. [Reads] "My lord, I writ, as mine extreames require, That you would labour my deliuerie: If you neglect, my life is desperate, And in my death I shall reueale the troth. You know, my lord, I slew him for your sake, And was confederate with the prince and you; Wonne by rewards and hopefull promises, I holpe to murder Don Horatio too."— Holpe he to murder mine Horatio? And actors in th' accursed tragedie Wast thou, Lorenzo? Bathazar and thou, Of whome my sone, my sonne deseru'd so well? What haue I heard? what haue mine eies behelde? O sacred heauens, may it come to passe That such a monstrous and detested deed, So closely smootherd and so long conceald, Shall thus by this be [revenged] or reuealed? Now see I, what I durst not then suspect, That Bel-imperias letter was not fainde, Nor fained she, though falsly they haue wrongd Both her, my-selfe, Horatio and themselues. Now may I make compare twixt hers and this Of euerie accident. I neere could finde Till now, and now I feelingly perceiue, They did what Heauen vnpunisht [should] not leaue. O false Lorenzo! are these thy flattering lookes? Is this honour that thou didst my sonne? And, Balthazar,— bane to thy soule and me!— What this the ransome he reseru'd [for thee]? Woe to the cause of these constrained warres! Woe to thy basenes and captiuitie! Woe to thy birth, thy body and thy soule, Thy cursed father, and thy conquerd selfe! And band with bitter execrations be The day and place where he did pittie thee! But wherefore waste I mine vnfruitfull words, When naught but blood will satisfie my woes? I will goe plaine me to my lord the king, And cry aloud for iustice through the court, Wearing the flints with these my withered feet, And either purchase iustice by intreats Or tire them all with my reuenging threats.

ISA. So that you say this hearb will purge the [eyes], And this the head? ah! but none of them will purge the hart! No, thers no medicine left for my disease, Nor any physick to recure the dead.

Horatio! O, wheres Horatio?

MAIDE. Good madam, affright not thus your-selfe With outrage for your sonne Horatio; He sleepes in quiet in the Elizian fields.

ISA. Why did I not giue you gownes and goodly things, Bought you a wistle and a whipstalke too, To be reuenged on their villanies?

MAIDE. Madame, these humors doe torment my soule.

ISA. My soule? poore soule, thou talkes of things Thou knowest not what! My soule hath siluer wings, That mounts me vp vnto the highest heauens— To heauen? I, there sits up Horatio, Backt with troup of fierry cherubins Dauncing about his newly healed wounds, Singing sweet hymns and chaunting heauenly notes, Rare harmony to greet his innocence, That dyde, I, dyde a mirrour in our daies! But say, where shall I finde, the men, the murderers, That slew Horatio? whether shall I runne To finde them out, that murdered my sonne?

BEL. What meanes this outrage that is offred me? What am I thus sequestred from the court? No notice? shall I not know the cause Of these my secret and suspitious ils? Accursed brother! vnkinde murderer! Why bends thou thus thy minde to martir me? Hieronimo, why writ I of they wrongs, Or why art thou so slack in thy reuenge? Andrea! O Andrea, that thou sawest Me for thy freend Horatio handled thus, And him for me thus causeles murdered! Well, force perforce, I must constraine my-selfe To patience, and apply me to the time, Till Heauen, as I haue hoped, shall set me free.

CHRIS. Come, Madame Bel-imperia, this [must] not be!

LOR. Boy, talke no further; thus farre things goe well. Thou art assurde that thou sawest him dead?

PAGE. Or els, my lord, I liue not.

LOR. Thats enough. As for this resolution at his end, Leaue that to him with whom he soiourns now. Heere, take my ring, and giue it [Christophel], And bid him let my sister be enlarg'd, And bring her hither straight.

This that I did was for a policie, To smooth and keepe the murder secret, Which as a nine daies wonder being ore-blowne, 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 have heard me say Sufficient reason why she kept away; But thats all one. My lord, you loue her?

BAL. I.

LOR. Then in your loue beware; deale cunningly; Salue all suspititons; only sooth me vp, And, if she hap to stand on tearmes with vs, As for her sweet-hart, and concealement so, Iest with her gently; vnder fained iest Are things concealde that els would breed vnrest. But heere she comes.

LOR. Now, sister.

BEL. Sister? No! Thou art no brother, but an enemy, Els wouldst thou not haue vsde thy sister so: First, to affright me with thy weapons drawne, And with extreames abuse my company; And then to hurry me like whirlwinds rage Amidst a crew of thy confederates, And clap my vp where none might come at me, Nor I at any to reueale my wrongs. What madding fury did possesse thy wits? Or wherein ist that I offended thee?

LOR. Aduise you better, Bel-imperia; For I haue done you no disparagement,— Vnlesse, by more discretion then deseru'd, I sought to saue your honour and mine owne.

BEL. Mine honour? Why, Lorenzo, wherein ist That I neglect my reputation so As you, or any, need to rescue it?

LOR. His Highnes and my father were resolu'd To come conferre with olde Hieronimo Concerning certaine matters of estate That by the viceroy was determined.

BEL. And wherein was mine honour toucht in that?

BAL. Haue patience, Bel-imperia; heare the rest.

LOR. Me, next in sight, as messenger they sent To giue him notice that they were so nigh: Now, when I came, consorted with the prince, And vnexpected in an arbor there Found Bel-imperia with Horatio—

BEL. How then?

LOR. Why, then, remembring that olde disgrace Which you for Don Andrea had indurde, And now were likely longer to sustaine By being found so meanely accompanied, Thought rather, for I knew no readier meane, To thrust Horatio forth my fathers way.

BAL. And carry you obscurely some-where els, Least that his Highnes should haue found you there.

BEL. Euen so, my lord? And you are witnesse That this is true which he entreateth of? You, gentle brother, forged this for my sake? And you, my lord, were made his instrument? A worke of worth! worthy the noting too! But whats the cause that you concealde me since?

LOR. Your melancholly, sister, since the newes Of your first fauorite Don Andreas death My fathers olde wrath hath exasperate.

BAL. And better wast for you, being in disgrace, To absent your-selfe and giue his fury place.

BEL. But why I had no notice of his ire?

LOR. That were to adde more fewell to your fire, Who burnt like Aetne for Andreas losse.

BEL. Hath not my father then enquird for me?

LOR. Sister, he hath; and this excusde I thee.

But, Bel-imperia, see the gentle prince; Looke on thy loue; beholde yong Balthazar, Whose passions by the presence are increast, And in whose melachollie thou maiest see Thy hate, his loue, thy flight, his following thee.

BEL. Brother, you are become an oratour— I know not, I, by what experience— Too politick for me, past all compare, Since I last saw you. But content your-selfe; The prince is meditating higher things.

BAL. Tis of thy beauty, then, that conquers kings, Of those thy tresses, Ariadnes twines, Wherewith my libertie thou hast surprisde, Of that thine iuorie front, my sorrowes map, Wherein I see no hauen to rest my hope.

BEL. To loue and feare, and both at once, my lord, In my conceipt, are things of more import Then womens wit are to be busied with.

BAL. Tis that I loue thee.

BEL. Whome?

BAL. Bel-imperia.

BEL. But that I feare?

BAL. Whome?

BEL. Bel-imperia.

LOR. Feare your-selfe?

BEL. I, brother.

LOR. How?

BEL. As those That, [when] they loue, are loath and feare to loose.

BAL. Then, faire, let Balthazar your keeper be.

BEL. No, Balthazar doth feare as well as we; Et tremulo metui pauidum iunxere timorem, Et vanum stolidae proditionis opus.

LOR. Nay, and you argue things so cunningly, Weele goe continue this discourse at court.

BAL. Led by the loadstar of heauenly lookes, Wends poore oppressed Balthazar, As ore the mountains walkes the wanderer Incertain to effect his pilgrimage.

I PORT. By your leaue, sir.

[The following is inserted in the 1618, 1623, and 1633 editions.]

HIER. Tis neither as you thinke, nor as you thinke, Nor as you thinke, you'r wide all: These slippers are not mine, they were my sonne Horatios. My sonne? And what's a sonne? A thing begot Within a paire of minutes, there-about; A lump bred up in darknesse, and doth serue To ballance those light creatures we call women, And at nine monethes end creepes foorth to light. What is there yet in a sonne to make a father Dote, rave or runne mad? Being born, it pouts, Cries, and breeds teeth. What is there yet in a sonne? He must be fed, be taught to goe and speake. I, and yet? Why might not a man love A calfe as well, or melt in passion over A frisking kid, as for a sonne? Me thinkes A young bacon or a fine smooth little horse-colt Should moove a man as much as doth a son; For one of these in very little time Will grow to some good use, whereas a sonne, The more he growes in stature and in yeeres, The more unsquar'd, unlevelled he appeares, Reckons his parents among the ranke of fooles, Strikes cares upon their heads with his mad ryots, Makes them looke old before they meet with age.— This is a son! And what a losse were this, Considered truely! Oh, but my Horatio Grew out of reach of those insatiate humours: He lovd his loving parents, he was my comfort And his mothers joy, the very arme that did Hold up our house, our hopes were stored up in him. None but a damned murderer could hate him! He had not seene the backe Of nineteene yeere, when his strong arme unhorst The proud prince Balthazar; and his great minde, Too full of honour tooke him unto mercy, That valient but ignoble Portingale. Well! Heaven is Heaven still! And there's Nemesis, and Furies, And things called whippes, and they sometimes doe meet With murderers! They doe not alwayes scape,— That is some comfort! I, I, I; and then Time steales on, and steales and steales, till violence Leapes foorth like thunder wrapt in a ball of fire, And so doth bring confusion to them all.

[End of insertion.]

Good leaue haue you; nay, I pray you goe, For Ile leaue you, if you can leaue me so.

II PORT. Pray you, which is the next way to my l[ord] the dukes?

HIERO. The next way from me.

I PORT. To the house, we meane.

HIERO. O hard by; tis yon house that you see.

II PORT. You could not tell vs if his sonne were there?

HIERO. Who? my lord Lorenzo?

I PORT. I, sir.

HIERO. Oh, forbeare, For other talke for vs far fitter were! But, if you be importunate to know The way to him and where to finde him out, Then list to me, and Ile resolue your doubt: There is a path vpon your left hand side That leadeth from a guiltie conscience Vnto a forrest of distrust and feare,— A darksome place and dangerous to passe,— There shall you meet with melancholy thoughts Whose balefull humours if you but [behold], It will conduct you to dispaire and death: Whose rockie cliffes when you haue once behelde, Within a hugie dale of lasting night, That, kindled with worlds of iniquities, Doth cast vp filthy and detested fumes,— Not far from thence where murderers haue built A habitation for their cursed soules, There, in a brazen caldron fixed by Iove In his fell wrath vpon a sulpher flame, Your-selues shall finde Lorenzo bathing him In boyling lead and blood of innocents.

I PORT. Ha, ha, ha!

HIERO. Ha, ha, ha! why, ha, ha, ha! Farewell, good ha, ha, ha!

II PORT. Doubtles this man is passing lunaticke, Or imperfection of his age doth make him dote. Come, lets away to seek my lord the duke.

HIERO. Now, sir, perhaps I come to see the king, The king sees me, and faine would heare my sute: Why, is this not a strange and seld-seene thing That standers by with toyes should strike me mute? Go too, I see their shifts, and say no more; Hieronimo, tis time for thee to trudge! Downe by the dale that flowes with purple gore Standeth a firie tower; there sits a iudge Vpon a seat of steele and molten brasse, And twixt his teeth he holdes afire-brand, That leades vnto the lake where he doth stand. Away, Hieronimo; to him be gone: Heele doe thee iustice for Horatios death. Turne down this path, thou shalt be with him straite; Or this, and then thou needst not take thy breth. This way, or that way? Soft and faire, not so! For, if I hang or kill my-selfe, lets know Who will reuenge Horatios murther then! No, no; fie, no! pardon me, ile none of that:

This way Ile take; and this way comes the king,

And heere Ile haue a fling at him, thats flat! And, Balthazar, Ile be with thee to bring; And thee, Lorenzo! Heeres the king; nay, stay! And heere,— I, heere,— there goes the hare away!

KING. Now shew, embassadour, what our viceroy saith: Hath hee receiu'd the articles we sent?

HIERO. Iustice! O, iustice to Hieronimo!

LOR. Back! seest thou not the king is busie?

HIERO. O! is he so?

KING. Who is he that interrupts our busines?

HIERO. Not I! [aside] Hieronimo, beware! goe by, goe by!

EMBAS. Renowned king, he hath receiued and read thy kingly proffers and thy promist league, And, as a man exreamely ouer-ioyd To heare his sonne so princely entertainde, Whose death he had so solemnely bewailde, This, for thy further satisfaction And kingly loue, he kindely lets thee know: First, for the marriage of his princely sonne With Bel-imperia, thy beloued neece, The newes are more delightfull to his soule Then myrrh or incense to the offended Heauens. In person, therefore, will be come himselfe To see the marriage rites solemnized And in the presence of the court of Spaine To knit a sure [inextricable] band Of kingly loue and euerlasting league Betwixt the crownes of Spaine and Portingale. There will he giue his crowne to Balthazar, And make a queene of Bel-imperia.

KING. Brother, how like you this our vice-roies loue?

CAST. No doubt, my lord, it is an argument Of honorable care to keepe his freend And wondrous zeale to Balthazar, his sonne. Nor am I least indebted to his Grace, That bends his liking to my daughter thus.

EM. Now last, dread lord, heere hath his Highnes sent— Although he send not that his sonne returne— His ransome doe to Don Horatio.

HIERO. Horatio? who cals Horatio?

KING. And well remembred, thank his Maiestie! Heere, see it giuen to Horatio.

HIERO. Iustice! O iustice! iustice, gentle king!

KING. Who is that? Hieronimo?

HIERO. Iustice! O iustice! O my sonne! my sonne! My sonne, whom naught can ransome or redeeme!

LOR. Hieronimo, you are not well aduisde.

HIERO. Away, Lorenzo! hinder me no more, For thou hast made me bankrupt of my blisse! Giue me my sonne! You shall not ransome him! Away! Ile rip the bowels of the earth,

And ferrie ouer th' Elizian plaines And bring my sonne to shew his deadly wounds. Stand from about me! Ile make a pickaxe of my poniard, And heere surrender vp my marshalship; For Ile goe marshall vp the feends in hell, To be auenged on you all for this.

KING. What means this outrage? Will none of you restraine his fury?

HIERO. Nay, soft and faire; you shall not need to striue! Needs must he goe that the diuels driue.

KING. What accident hath hapt [to] Hieronimo? I haue not seene him to demeane him so.

LOR. My gratious lord, he is with extreame pride Conceiued of yong Horatio, his sonne, And couetous of hauing himselfe The ransome of the yong prince, Balthazar, Distract, and in a manner lunatick.

KING. Beleeue me, nephew, we are sorie for 't; This is the loue that fathers beare their sonnes. But, gentle brother, goe giue to him this golde, The princes raunsome; let him haue his due; For what he hath, Horatio shall not want. Happily Hieronimo hath need thereof.

LOR. But if he be thus helpelesly distract, Tis requisite his office be resignde And giuen to one of more discretion.

KING. We shall encrease his melanchollie so. Tis best that we see further in it first; Till when, our-selfe will exempt the place. And, brother, now bring in the embassadour, That he may be a witnes of the match Twixt Balthazar and Bel-imperia, And that we may prefixe a certaine time Wherein the marriage shalbe solemnized, That we may haue thy lord the vice-roy heere.

EM. Therein your Highnes highly shall content His maiestie, that longs to heare from hence.

KING. On then, and heare you, lord embassadour.

[HIERO.] Vindicta mihi. I, heauen will be reuenged of euery ill, Nor will they suffer murder vnrepaide! Then stay, Hieronimo, attend their will; For mortall men may not appoint their time. Per scelus semper tutum est sceleribus iter: Strike, and strike home, where wrong is offred thee; For euils vnto ils conductors be, And death's the worst of resultion. For he that thinks with patience to contend To quiet life, his life shall easily end. Fata si miseros iuuant, habes selutem; Fata si vitam negant, habes sepulchrum: If destinie thy miseries doe ease, Then hast thou health, and happie shalt thou be; If destinie denie thee life, Hieronimo, Yet shalt thou be assured of a tombe; If neither, yet let this thy comfort be: Heauen couereth him that hath no buriall. And, to conclude, I will reuenge his death! But how? Not as the vulgare wits of men, With open, but ineuitable ils; As by a secret, yet a certaine meane, Which vnder kindeship wilbe cloked best. Wise men will take their opportunitie, Closely and safely fitting things to time; But in extreames aduantage hath no time; And therefore all times fit not for reuenge. Thus, therefore, will I rest me in unrest, Dissembling quiet in vnquietnes, Not seeming that I know their villanies, That my simplicitie may make them think That ignorantly I will let all slip; For ignorance, I wot, and well they know, Remedium malorum iners est. Nor ought auailes it me to menace them. Who, as a wintrie storme vpon a plaine, Will beare me downe with their nobilitie. No, no, Hieronimo, thou must enioyne Thine eies to obseruation, and thy tung To milder speeches then thy spirit affoords, Thy hart to patience, and thy hands to rest, Thy cappe to curtesie, and they knee to bow, Till to reuenge thou know when, where and how. How now? what noise, what coile is that you keepe?

SER. Heere are a sort of poore 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 seuerall actions? Why, let them enter, and let me see them.

I CIT. So I tell you this: for learning and for law There is not any aduocate in Spaine That can preuaile or will take halfe the paine That he will in pursuite of equitie.

HIERO. Come neere, you men, that thus importune me! [Aside] Now must I beare a face of grauitie, For thus I vsde, before my marshalship, To pleide the causes as corrigedor.— Come on, sirs, whats the matter?

II CIT. Sir, an action.

HIERO. Of batterie?

I CIT. Mine of debt.

HIERO. Giue place.

II CIT. No, sir, mine is an action of the case.

III CIT. Mine an eiectionae firmae by a lease.

HIERO. Content you, sirs; are you determined That I should plead your seuerall actions?

I CIT. I, sir; and heeres my declaration.

II CIT. And heere is my band.

III CIT. And heere is my lease.

HIERO. But wherefore stands you silly man so mute, With mournfall eyes and hands to heauen vprearde? Come hether, father; let me know thy cause.

SENEX, [DON BAZULTO]. O worthy sir, my cause but slightly knowne May mooue the harts of warlike Myrmydons, And melt the Corsicke rockes with ruthfull teares!

HIERO. Say, father; tell me whats thy sute!

[BAZULTO]. No, sir, could my woes Giue way vnto my most distresfull words, Then should I not in paper, as you see, With incke bewray what blood began in me.

HIERO. Whats heere? "The Humble Supplication Of Don Bazulto for his Murdered Sonne."

[BAZULTO]. I, sir.

HIERO. No, sir, it was my murdred sonne! Oh, my sonne, my sonne! oh, my sonne Horatio! But mine or thine, Bazulto, be content; Heere, take my hand-kercher and wipe thine eies, Whiles wretched I in thy mishaps may see The liuely portraict of my dying selfe.

O, no; not this! Horatio, this was thine! And when I dyde it in thy deerest blood, This was a token twixt thy soule and me That of thy death reuenged I should be. But heere: take this, and this! what? my purse? I, this and that and all of them are thine; For all as one are our extremeties.

I CIT. Oh, see the kindenes of Hieronimo!

II CIT. This gentlenes shewes him a gentleman.

HIERO. See, see, oh, see thy shame, Hieronimo! See heere a louing father to his sonne: Beholde the sorrowes and the sad laments That he deliuereth for his sonnes dicease. If loues effects so striues in lesser things, If loue enforce such moodes in meaner wits, If loue expresse such power in poor estates, Hieronimo, as when a raging sea, Tost with the winde and tide, ore-turneth then The vpper-billowes, course of waues to keep, Whilest lesser waters labour in the deepe, Then shamest thou not, Hieronimo, to neglect The [swift] reuenge of thy Horatio? Though on this earth iustice will not be found, Ile downe to hell and in this passion Knock at the dismall gates of Plutos court, Getting by force, as once Alcides did, A troupe of furies and tormenting hagges, To torture Don Lorenzo and the rest. Yet, least the triple-headed porter should Denye my passage to the slimy strond, The Thracian poet thou shalt counterfeite; Come on, old father, be my Orpheus; And, if thou canst no notes vpon the harpe, Then sound the burden of thy sore harts greefe Till we do gaine that Proserpine may graunt Reuenge on them that murd[er]red my sonne. Then will I rent and teare them thus and thus, Shiuering their limmes in peeces with my teeth!

I CIT. Oh, sir, my declaration!

II CIT. Saue my bond!

II CIT. Saue my bond!

III CIT. Alas my lease, it cost me Ten pound, and you, my lord, haue torne the same!

HIERO. That can not be, I gaue it neuer a wound; Shew me one drop of bloud fall from the same! How is it possible I should slay it then? Tush, no! Run after, catch me if you can!

And art thou come, Horatio, from the depth, To aske for iustice in this vpper earth? T[o] tell thy father thou art vnreuenged? To wring more teares from Isabellas eies, Whose lights are dimd with ouer-long laments? Goe back, my sonne, complaine to Eacus; For heeres no iustice. Gentle boy, begone; For iustice is exiled from the earth. H[i]eronimo will beare thee company. Thy mother cries on righteous Radamant For iust reuenge against the murderers.

[BAZULTO]. Alas, my l[ord], whence springs this troubled speech?

HIERO. But let me looke on my Horatio: Sweet boy, how art thou chang'd in deaths black shade! Had Proserpine no pittie on thy youth, But suffered thy fair crimson-colourd spring With withered winter to be blasted thus? Horatio, thou are older then thy father: Ah, ruthless father, that fauour thus transformess.

BA. Ah, my good lord, I am not your yong sonne.

HIE. What! not my sonne? thou then a Furie art Sent from the emptie kingdome of blacke night To summon me to make appearance Before grim Mynos and iust Radamant, To plague Hieronimo, that is remisse And seekes not vengeance for Horatios death.

BA. I am a greeued man, and not a ghost, That came for iustice for my murdered sonne.

HIE. I, now I know thee, now thou namest thy sonne; Thou art the liuely image of my griefe: Within thy face sorrowes I may see; The eyes are [dim'd] with teares, they cheekes are wan, They forehead troubled, and thy muttring lips Murmure sad words abruptly broken off By force of windie sighes thy spirit breathes; And all this sorrow riseth for thy sonne, And selfe-same sorrow feele I for my sonne. Come in, old man; thou shalt to Izabell. Leane on my arme; 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,— Talke not of cords!— but let vs now be gone,— For with a cord Horatio was slaine.

KING. Go, brother, it is the Duke of Castiles cause; Salute the vice-roy in our name.

CASTILE. I go.

VICE. Go forth, Don Pedro, for they nephews sake, And greet the Duke of Castile.

PEDRO. It shall be so.

KING. And now to meet these Portaguise; For, as we now are, so sometimes were these, Kings and commanders of the westerne Indies. Welcome, braue vice-roy, to the court of Spaine! And welcome, all his honorable traine! Tis not vnknowne to vs for why you come, Or haue so kingly crost the seas. Suffiseth it, in this we note the troth And more then common loue you lend to vs. So is it that mine honorable neece, For it beseemes vs now that it be knowne, Already is betroth'd to Balthazar; And, by appointment and our condiscent, To-morrow are they to be married. To this intent we entertaine thy-selfe, Thy followers, their pleasure, and our peace. Speak, men of Portingale, shall it be so? If I, say so; if not, say so flatly.

VICE. Renowned king, I come not, as thou thinkst, With doubtfull followers, vnresolued men, But such as haue vpon thine articles Confirmed thy motion and contented me. Know, soueraigne, I come to solemnize The marriage of they beloued neece, Faire Bel-imperia, with my Balthazar,— With thee, my sonne, whom sith I liue to see, Heere, take my crowne, I giue it to her and thee, And let me liue a solitarie life, In ceaseless praiers, To think how strangely heauen hath thee preserued.

KING. See, brother, see, how nature striues in him! Come, worthy vice-roy, and accompany They freend, [to strive] with thine extremities: A place more priuate fits this princely mood.

VICE. Or heere or where your Highnes thinks it good.

CAS. Nay, stay, Lorenzo; let me talke with you. Seest thou this entertainement of these kings?

LOR. I doe, my lord, and ioy to see the same.

CAS. And knowest thou why this meeting is?

LOR. For her, my lord, whom Balthazar doth loue, And to confirme their promised marriage.

CAS. She is thy sister.

LOR. Who? Bel-imperia? I, my gratious lord, and this is the day That I haue longd so happily to see.

CAS. Thou wouldst be loath that any fault of thine Should intercept her in her happines?

LOR. Heauens will not let Lorenzo erre so much.

CAS. Why then, Lorenzo, listen to my words: It is suspected, and reported too, That thou, Lorenzo, wrongst Hieronimo, And in his sutes toward his Maiestie Still keepst him back and seekes to crosse his sute.

LOR. That I, my lord?

CAS. I tell thee, sonne, my-selfe haue heard it said, When to my sorrow I haue been ashamed To answere for thee, though thou art my sonne. Lorenzo, knowest thou not the common loue And kindenes that Hieronimo hath wone By his deserts within the court of Spaine? Or seest thou not the k[ing] my brothers care In his behalfe and to procure his health? Lorenzo, shouldst thou thwart his passions, And he exclaime against thee to the king, What honour wert in this assembly, Or what a scandale were among the kings, To heare Hieronimo exclaime on thee! Tell me,—and loke thou tell me truely too,-- Whence growes the ground of this report in court?

LOR. My l[ord], it lyes not in Lorenzos power To stop the vulgar liberall of their tongues: A small aduantage makes a water-breach; And no man liues that long contenteth all.

CAS. My-selfe haue seene thee busie to keep back Him and his supplications from the king.

LOR. Your-selfe, my l[ord], hath seene his assions, That ill beseemde the presence of a king; And, for I pittied him in his distresse, I helde him thence with kinde and curteous words, As free from malice to Hieronimo As to my soule, my lord.

CAS. Hieronimo, my sonne, mistakes thee then.

LOR. My gratious father, beleeue me, so he doth; But whats a silly man, distract in minde To think vpon the murder of his sonne? Alas, how easie is it for him to erre! But, for his satisfaction and the worlds, Twere good, my l[ord], that Hieronimo and I Were reconcilde, if he misconster me.

CAS. Lorenzo, that hast said; it shalbe so! Goe, one of you, and call Hieronimo.

BAL. Come, Bel-imperia, Balthazars content, My sorrowes ease, and soueraigne of my blisse,— Sith heauen hath [thee ordainded] to be mine, Disperce those cloudes and melanchollie lookes, And cleere them vp with those thy sunne-bright eies, Wherein my hope and heauens faire beautie lies!

BEL. My lookes, my lord, are fitting for my loue, Which, new begun, can shew no brighter yet.

BAL. New kindled flames should burne as morning sun.

BEL. But not too fast, least heate and all be done. I see my lord my father.

BAL. True, my loue; I will goe salute him.

CAS. Welcome, Balthazar, Welcome, braue prince, the pledge of Castiles peace! And welcome Bel-imperia! How now, girle? Why commest thou sadly to salute vs thus? Content thy-selfe, for I am satisfied. It is not now as when Andrea liu'd; We haue forgotten and forgiuen that, And thou art graced with a happeir loue. But, Balthazar, heere comes Hieronimo; Ile haue a word with him.

HIERO. And wheres the duke?

SER. Yonder.

HIERO. Euen so. [aside] What new deuice haue they deuised, tro? Pocas palabras! Milde as the lambe! Ist I will be reueng'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 Ile be gone; I thank you fort!

CAS. Nay, stay, Hieronimo; goe call him, sonne.

LOR. Hieronimo, my father craues a word with you.

HIERO. With me, sir? Why, my l[ord], I thought you had done.

LOR. [aside] No; would he had!

CAS. Hieronimo, I hear You finde your-selfe agreeued at my sonne, Because you haue not accesse vnto the king, And say tis he that intercepts your sutes.

HIERO. Why, is not this a miserable thing, my lord?

CAS. Hieronimo, I hope you haue no cause, And would be loth that one of your deserts, Should once haue reason to suspect my sonne, Considering how I think of you my-selfe.

HIERO. Your sonne Lorenzo? whome, my noble lord? The hope of Spaine? mine honorable freend? Graunt me the combat of them, if they dare!

Ile meet them face-to-face to tell me so! These be the scandalous reports of such As loues not me, and hate my lord too much. Should I suspect Lorenzo would preuent Or crosse my sute, that loued my sonne so well? My lord, I am ashamed it should be said.

LOR. Hieronimo, I neuer gaue you cause.

H[I]ERO. 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 Ciprians ancient seat; And when thou wilt, vse me, my sonne, and it. But heere before Prince Balthazar and me Embrace each other, and be perfect freends.

HIERO. I, marry, my lord, and shall! Freends, quoth he? See, Ile be freends with you all! Especially with you, my louely lord; For diuers causes it is fit for vs That we be freends. The world is suspitious, And men may think what we imagine not.

BAL. Why this is freely doone, Hieronimo.

LOR. And I hope olde grudges are forgot.

HIERO. What els? it were a shame it should not be so!

CAS. Come on, Hieronimo, at my request; Let vs entreat your company to-day!

[CHORUS.]

GHOST. Awake Erictho! Cerberus, awake! Sollicite Pluto, gentle Proserpine! To combat, Achinon and Ericus in hell! For neere by Stix and Phlegeton [there came.] Nor ferried Caron to the fierie lakes, Such fearfull sights, as poore Andrea see[s]? Reuenge awake!

REUENGE. Awake? for-why?

GHOST. Awake, Reuenge! for thou art ill aduisde To sleepe away what thou art warnd to watch!

REUENGE. Content thy-selfe, and doe not trouble me.

GHOST. Awake, Reuenge, if loue, as loue hath had, Haue yet the power of preuailance in hell! Hieronimo with Lorenzo is ioynde in league, And intecepts our passage to reuenge. Awake, Reuenge, or we are woe-begone!

REUENGE. Thus worldings ground what they haue dreamd vpon! Content thy-selfe, Andrea; though I sleepe, Yet is my mood soliciting their soules. Sufficeth thee that poore Hieronimo Cannot forget his sonne Horatio. Nor dies Reuegne although he sleepe a-while; For in vnquiet, quietnes is faind, And slumbring is a common worldly wile. Beholde, Andrea, for an instance how Reuenge hath slept; and then imagine thou What tis to be subiect to destinie.

GHOST. Awake, Reuenge! reueale this misterie!

REUENGE. The two first [do] the nuptiall torches beare, As brightly burning as the mid-daies sunne; But after them doth Himen hie as fast, Clothed in sable and saffron robe, And blowes them out and quencheth them with blood, As discontent that things continue so.

GHOST. Sufficeth me; thy meanings vnderstood, And thanks to thee and those infernall powers That will not tollerate a louers woe. Rest thee; for I will sit to see the rest.

REUENGE. Then argue not; for thou hast thy request.

BEL-IMPERIA. Is this the loue that bearst Horatio? Is this the kindnes that thou counterfeits, Are these the fruits of thine incessant teares? Hieronimo, are these thy passions, Thy protestations and thy deepe laments, That thou wert wont to wearie men withall? O vnkinde father! O deceitfull world! With what excuses canst thou shew thy-selfe,— With what dishonour, and the hate of men,— Thus to neglect the losse and life of him Whom both my letters and thine owne beliefe Assures thee to be causeles slaughtered? Hieronimo! for shame, Hieronimo, Be not a history to after times Of such ingratitude vnto thy sonne! Vnhappy mothers of such chldren then! But monstrous fathers, to forget so soone The death of those whom they with care and cost Haue tendred so, thus careles should be lost! My-selfe, a stranger in respect to thee, So loued his life as still I wish their deathes. Nor shall his death be vnreuengd by me. Although I beare it out for fashions sake; For heere I sweare in sight of heauen and earth, Shouldst thou neglect the loue thou shoudlst retain And giue ouer and deuise no more, My-selfe should send their hatefull soules to hel That wrought his downfall with extreamest death!

HIE. But may it be that Bel-imperia Vowes such reuenge as she hath dain'd to say? Why then, I see that heauen applies our drift, And all the saints doe 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 feare and care in not beleeuing it! Nor thinke I thoughtles thinke vpon a meane To let his death be vnreuenge'd at full. And heere I vow, so you but giue consent And will conceale my resolution, I will ere long determine of their deathes That causeles thus haue murderd my sonne.

BEL. Hieronimo, I will consent, conceale, And ought that may effect for thine auaile, Ioyne with thee to reuenge Horatios death.

HIER. On then, [and] whatsoeuer I deuise, Let me entreat you grace my practice, For-why the plots already in mine head.— Heere they are!

BAL. How now, Hieronimo? What, courting Bel-imperia?

HIERO. I, my lord, Such courting as, I promise you, She hath my hart, but you, my lord, haue hers.

LOR. But now, Hieronmimo, or neuer we are to intreate your helpe.

HIE. My help? why, my good lords, assure your-selues of me; For you haue giuen me cause,— I, by my faith, haue you!

BAL. It pleasde you at the entertainment of the embassadour, To grace the King so much as with a shew; Now were your stuide so well furnished As, for the passing of the first nights sport, To entertaine my father with the like, Or any such like pleasing motion, Assure yourselfe it would content them well.

HIERO. Is this all?

BAL. I, this is all.

HIERO. While then ile fit you; say no more. When I was yong I gaue my minde And plide my-selfe to fruitles poetrie, Which, though it profite the professor naught, Yet is it passing pleasing to the world.

LOR. And how for that?

HIERO. Marrie, my good lord, thus.— And yet, me thinks, you are too quick with vs!— When in Tolledo there I studied, It was my chaunce to write a tragedie,— See heere, my lords,—

Which, long forgot, I found this other day. Nor would your lordships fauour me so much As but to grace me with your acting it, I meane each one of you to play a part. Assure you it will proue most passing strange And wondrous plausible to that assembly.

BAL. What, would you haue vs play a tragedie?

HIERO. Why, Nero thought it no disparagement, And kings and emperours haue tane delight To make experience of their wit in plaies!

LOR. Nay, be not angry, good Hieronimo; The prince but asked a question.

BAL. In faith, Hieronimo, and you be in earnest, Ile make one.

LOR. And I another.

HIERO. Now, my good lord, could you intreat, Your sister, Bel-imperia, to make one,— For whats a play without a woman in it?

BEL. Little intreaty shall serue me, Hieronimo, For I must needs be imployed in your play.

HIERO. Why, this is well! I tell you, lordings, It was determined to haue beene acted, By gentlemen and schollers too, Such as could tell what to speak.

BAL. And now it shall be plaide by princes and courtiers, Such as can tell how to speak, If, as it is our country manner, You will but let vs know the argument.

HIERO. That shall I roundly. The cronicles of Spaine Recorde this written of a knight of Rodes; He was betrothed, and wedded at the length, To one Perseda, an Italian dame, Whose beatuie rauished all that her behelde, Especially the soule of Soliman, Who at the marriage was the cheefest guest. By sundry meanes sought Soliman to winne Persedas loue, and could not gaine the same. Then gan he break his passions to a freend, One of his bashawes whome he held full deere. Her has this bashaw long solicited, And saw she was not otherwise to be wonne But by her husbands death, this knight of Rodes, Whome presently by trecherie his slew. She, stirde with an exceeding hate therefore, As cause of this, slew [Sultan] Soliman, And, to escape the bashawes tirannie, Did stab her-selfe. And this [is] the tragedie.

LOR. O, excellent!

BEL. But say, Hieronimo: What then became of him that was the bashaw?

HIERO. Marrie thus: moued with remorse of his misdeeds, Ran to a mountain top and hung himselfe.

BAL. But which of vs is to performe that part?

HIERO. O, that will I, my lords; make no doubt of it; Ile play the murderer, I warrent you; For I already haue conceited that.

BAL. And what shall I?

HIERO. Great Soliman, the Turkish emperour.

LOR. And I?

HIERO. Erastus, the knight of Rhodes.

BEL. And I?

HIERO. Perseda, chaste and resolute. And heere, my lords, are seueral abstracts drawne, For eache of you to note your [seuerall] partes. And act it as occasion's offred you. You must prouide [you with] a Turkish cappe, A black moustache and a fauchion.

You with a crosse, like a knight of Rhodes.

And, madame, you must [then] attire your-selfe

Like Phoebe, Flora, or the huntresse [Dian], Which to your discretion shall seeme best. And as for me, my lords, Ile looke to one, And with the raunsome that the vice-roy sent So furnish and performe this tragedie As all the world shall say Hieronimo Was liberall in gracing of it so.

BAL. Hieronimo, me thinks a comedie were better.

HIERO. A comedie? fie! comedies are fit for common wits; But to present a kingly troupe withall, Giue me a stately-written tragedie,— Tragedia cothurnata, fitting kings, Containing matter, and not common things! My lords, all this [our sport] must be perfourmed, As fitting, for the first nights reuelling. The Italian tragedians were so sharpe Of wit that in one houres meditation They would performe any-thing in action.

LOR. And well it may, for I haue seene the like In Paris, mongst the French tragedians.

HIERO. In Paris? mas, and well remembered!— Theres one thing more that rests for vs to doo.

BAL. Whats that, Hieronimo? Forget not any-thing.

HIERO. Each one of vs Must act his parte in vnknowne languages, That it may breede the more varietie: As you, my lord, in Latin, I in Greeke, 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 meane to try my cunning then, Hieronimo!

BAL. But this will be a meere confusion, And hardly shall we all be vnderstoode.

HEIRO. It must be so; for the conclusion Shall proue the inuention and all was good; And I my-selfe in an oration, That I will haue there behinde a curtaine, And with a strange and wondrous shew besides, Assure your-selfe, shall make the matter knowne. And all shalbe concluded in once scene, For theres no pleasure tane in tediousnes.

BAL. [to LOR.] How like you this?

LOR. Why thus, my lord, we must resolue, To soothe his humors vp.

BAL. On then, Hieronimo; farewell till soone!

HIERO. You plie this geere?

LOR. I warrant you.

HIERO. Why, so! now shall I see the fall of Babilon Wrought by the heauens in this confusion. And, if the world like not this tragedie, Hard is the hap of olde Hieronimo.

[ISA.] Tell me no more! O monstrous homicides! Since neither pietie nor pittie moues The king to iustice or compassion, I will reuenge my-selfe vpon this place, Where thus they murdered my beloued sonne.

Downe with these branches and these loathsome bowes On this vnfortunate and fatall pine! Downe with them, Isabella; rent them vp, And burnes the roots from whence the rest is sprung! I will leaue not a root, a stalke, a tree, A bowe, a branch, a blossome, nor a leafe,— Not, not a hearb within this garden plot, Accursed complot of my miserie! Fruitlesse for-euer may this garden be, Barren the earth, and blislesse whosoeuer Immagines not to keep it vnmanurde! An easterne winde comixt with noisome aires Shall blast the plants and yong saplings [here], The earth with serpents shalbe pestered, And passengers, for feare to be infect, Shall stand aloofe, and, looking at it, tell There murdred dide the sonne of Isabell. I, heere he dide, and heere I him imbrace! See where his ghoast solicites with his wounds Reuenge on her that should reuenge his death! Hieronimo, make haste to see thy sonne, For Sorrow and Dispaire hath scited me To heare Horatio plead with Radamant. Make haste, Hieronimo, to holde excusde Thy negligence in pursute of their deaths Whose hatefull wrath breau'd him of his breath. Ah, nay; thou dost delay their deaths, Forgiues the murderers of thy noble sonne; And none but I bestirre me,— to no end! And, as I cursse this tree from further fruit, So shall my wombe be cursed for his sake; And with this weapon will I wound this brest,— That haples brest that gaue Horatio suck!

CAS. How now, Hieronimo? wheres your fellows, That you take all this paine?

HIERO. O sir, it is for the authors credit To look that all things may goe well. But, good my lord, let me intreat your Grace To giue the king the coppie of the plaie: This is the argument of what we shew.

CAS. I will, Hieronimo.

HIERO. One more thing, my good lord.

CAS. Whats that?

HIERO. Let me intreat your Grace That, when the traine are past into the gallerie, You would vouchsafe to throwe me downe the key.

CAS. I will Hieronimo.

HIERO. What, are you ready, Balthazar? Bring a chaire and a cushion for the king.

Well doon, Balthazar; hang vp the title: Our scene is Rhodes. What, is your beard on?

BAL. Halfe on, the other is in my hand.

HIERO. Dispatch, for shame! are you so long?

Bethink thy-selfe, Hieronimo, Recall thy wits, recompt thy former wrongs Thou hast receiued by murder of thy sonne, And lastly, [but] not least, how Isabell, Once his mother and [my] deerest wife, All woe-begone for him, hath slaine her-selfe. Behoues thee then, Hieronimo, to be Reueng'd! The plot is laide of dire reuenge: On then, Hieronimo; persue reuenge, For nothing wants but acting of reuenge!

KING. Now, viceroy, shall we see the tragedie Of Soliman, the Turkish emperour, Performde by pleasure by yor sonne the prince, My nephew Don Lorenzo, and my neece.

VICE. Who? Bel-imperia?

KING. I; and Hieronimo our marshall, At whose request they deine to doo't themselues. These be our pastimes in the court of Spaine. Heere, brother, you shall be the booke-keeper: This is the argument of that they shew.

[Gentlemen, this play of Hieronimo in sundrie languages was thought good to be set downe in English more largely, for the easier vnderstanding to euery publique reader.]

BALTHAZAR. [acting] Bashaw, that Rhodes is ours yeeld Heauens the honor And holy Mahhomet, our sacred prophet! And be thou grac't with euery excelence That Soliman can giue or thou desire! But thy desert in conquering Rhodes is lesse Then in reseruing this faire Christian nimph, Perseda, blisfull lamp of excellence, Whose eies compell, like powerfull adamant, The warlike heart of Soliman to wait.

KING. See, vice-roy, that is Balthazar your sonne, That represents the Emperour Solyman: How well he acts his amorous passion!

VICE. I; Bel-imperia hath taught him that.

CASTILE: That's because his mind runnes al on Bel-imperia.

HIERO. [acting] What-euer ioy earth yeelds betide your Maiestie!

BALT. [acting] Earth yeelds no ioy without Persedaes loue.

HIERO. [acting] Let then Peerseda on your Grace attend.

BALT. [acting] She shall not wait on me, but I on her! Drawne by the influence of her lights, I yeeld. But let my friend, the Rhodian knight, come foorth,— Erasto, dearer then my life to me,— That he may see Perseda, my beloued.

KING. Heere comes Lorenzo: looke vpon the plot And tell me, brother, what part plaies he.

BEL. [acting] Ah, my Erasto! Welcome to Perseda!

LO. [acting] Thrice happie is Erasto that thou liuest! Rhodes losse is nothing to Erastoes ioy; Sith his Perseda liues, his life suruiues.

BALT. [acting] Ah, bashaw, heere is loue betweene Erasto And faire Perseda, soueraigne of my soule!

HIERO. [acting] Remooue Erasto, mighty Solyman, And then Perseda will be quickly wonne.

BALT. [acting] Erasto is my friend; and, while he liues, Perseda neuer will remooue her loue.

HIERO. [acting] Let not Erasto liue to greeue great Soliman!

BALT. [acting] Deare is Erasto in our princely eye.

HIERO. [acting] But, if he be your riuall, let him die!

BALT. [acting] Why, let him die! so loue commaundeth me. Yet I greeve I that Erasto should so die.

HIERO. [acting] Erasto, Soliman saluteth thee, And lets thee wit by me his Highnes will, Which is, thou shouldst be thus imploid.

BEL. [acting] Ay, me, Erasto! See, Solyman, Erastoes slaine!

BALT. [acting] Yet liueth Solyman to comfort thee. Faire queene of beautie, let not fauour die, Both with gratious eye behlde his griefe, That with Persedaes beautie is encreast, If by Perseda griefe be not releast.

BEL. [acting] Tyrant, desist soliciting vaine sutes; Relentles are mine eares to thy laments As thy butcher is pittilesse and base Which seazd on my Erasto, harmelesse knight. Yet by thy power thou thinkest to commaund, And to thy power Perseda doth obey; But, were she able, thus she would reuenge Thy treacheries on thee, ignoble prince;

And on herselfe she would be thus reuengd.

KING. Well said, old marshall! this was brauely done!

HIERO. But Bel-imperia plauies Perseda well.

VICE. Were this in earnest, Bel-imperia, You would be better to my sonne then so.

KING. But now what followes for Hieronimo?

HIERO. Marrie, this followes for Hieronimo! Heere breake we off our sundrie languages, And thus conclude I in our vulgare tung: Happely you think— but bootles are your thoughts— That this is fabulously counterfeit, And that we doo as all trageians doo,— To die to-day, for fashioning our scene, The death of Aiax, or some Romaine peer, And, in a minute starting vp againe, Reuiue to please tomorrows audience. No, princes; know I am Hieronimo, The hopeles father of a haples sonne, Whose tung is tun'd to tell his latest tale, Not to excuse grosse errors in the play. I see your lookes vrge instance of these words: Beholde the reason vrging me to this!

See heere my shew; look on this spectacle! Heere lay my hope, and heere my hope hath end; Heere lay my hart, and heere my hart was slaine; Heere lay my treasure, heere my treasure lost; Heere lay my blisse, and heere my blisse bereft. But hope, hart, treasure, ioy and blisse,— All fled, faild, died, yea, all decaide with this. From froth these wounds came breath that gaue me life; They murdred me that made these fatall markes. The cause was loue whence grew this mortall hate: The hate, Lorenzo and yong Balthazar; The loue, my sonne to Bel-imperia. But night, the couerer of accursed crimes, With pitchie silence husht these traitors harmes, And lent them leaue— for they had sorted leasure— To take aduantage in my garden plot Vpon my sonne, my deere Horatio. There mercilesse they butcherd vp my boy, In black, darke night, to pale, dim, cruell death! He shrikes; I heard— and yet, me thinks, I heare— His dismall out-cry eccho in the aire; With soonest speed I hasted to the noise, Where, hanging on a tree, I found my sonne Through-girt with wounds and slaughtred, as you see. And greeued I, think you, at this spectacle? Speak, Portuguise, whose losse resembles mine! If thou canst weep vpon thy Balthazar, Tis like I wailde for my Horatio. And you, my l[ord], whose reconciled sonne Marcht in a net and thought himself vnseene, And rated me for a brainsicke lunacie, With "God amend that mad Hieronimo!"— How can you brook our plaies catastrophe? And heere beholde this bloudie hand-kercher, Which at Horatios death weeping dipt Within the riuer of his bleeding wounds! It as propitious, see, I haue reserued, And neuer hath it left my bloody hart, Soliciting remembrance of my vow With these, O these accursed murderers! Which now perform'd, my hart is satisfied. And to this end the bashaw I became, That might reuenge me on Lorenzos life, Who therefore was appointed to the part And was to represent the knight of Rhodes, That I might kill him more conueniently. So, vice-roy, was this Balthazar thy sonne— That Soliman which Bel-imperia In person of Perseda murdered,— So[le]lie appointed to that tragicke part, That she might slay him that offended her. Poore Bel-imperia mist her part in this: For, though the story saith she should haue died, Yet I, of kindenes and care for her, Did otherwise determine of her end. But loue of him whome they did hate too much Did vrge her resolution to be such. And princes, now beholde Hieronimo, Author and actor in this tragedie, Bearing his latest fortune in his fist; And will as resolute conclude his parte As any of the actors gone before. And, gentles, thus I end my play! Vrge no more words, I haue no more to say.

KING. O hearken, vice-roy; holde Hieronimo! Brother, my newphew and they sonne are slaine!

VICE. We are betraide! my Balthazar is slaine! Breake ope the doores; runne saue Hieronimo! Hieronimo, doe but enforme the king of these euents; Vpon mine honour, thou shalt haue no harme!

HIERO. Vice-roy, I will not trust thee with my life, Which I this day haue offered to my sonne: Accursed wretch, why staiest thou him that was resolued to die?

KING. Speak, traitor! damned, bloudy murderer, speak!— For, now I haue thee, I wil make thee speak! Why hast thou done this vndeseruing deed?

VICE. Why hast thou murdered my Balthazar?

CAS. Why hast thou butchered both my children thus?

HIERO. O good words! As deare to me was Horatio As yours, or yours, my l[ord], to you. My guitles sonne was by Lorenzo slaine; And by Lorenzo and that Balthazar Am I at last reuenged thorowly,— Vpon whole soules may Heauens be yet auenged With far greater far then these afflictions!

CAS. But who were thy confederates in this?

VICE. That was thy daughter Bel-imperia; For by her hand my Balthazar was slaine,— I saw her stab him.

KING. Why speakest thou not?

HIERO. What lesser libertie can kings affoord Then harmles silence? That afford it me! Sufficeth I may not nor I will not tell thee.

KING. Fetch forth the tortures! Traitor as thou art, Ile make thee tell!

HIERO. Indeed? Thou maiest torment me as his wretched sonne Hath done in murdring my Horatio; But neuer shalt thou force me to reueale The thing which I haue vowed inviolate. And therefore, in despight of all thy threats, Pleasde with their deaths, and easde with their reuenge, First take my tung, and afterwards my hart!

KING. O monstrous resolution of a wretch! See, Vice-Roy, he hath bitten foorth his tung Rather than reueale what we requirde.

CAS. Yet can he write.

KING. And if in this he satisfie vs not, We will deuise the 'xtreamest kinde of death That euer was inuented for a wretch.

CAS. O, he would haue a knife to mend his pen.

VICE. Here; and aduise thee that thou write the troth,— Look to my brother! saue Hieronimo!

KING. What age hath euer heard such monstrous deeds? My brother and the whole succeeding hope That Spaine expected after my dicease. Go beare his body hence, that we may mourne The losse of our beloued brothers death, That he may be entom'd, what-ere befall. I am the next, the neerest, last of all.

VICE. And thou, Don Pedro, do the like for vs: Take vp our haples sonne vntimely slaine; Set me vp with him, and he with wofull me, Vpon the maine-mast of a ship vnmand, And let the winde and tide [hale] me along To Sillas barking and vntamed gulfe Or to the lothsome poole of Archeron, To weepe my want for my sweet Balthazar. Spaine hath no refuge for a Portingale!

[CHORUS.]

GHOAST. I; now my hopes haue end in their effects, When blood and sorrow finnish my desires: Horatio murdered in his Fathers bower, Vilde Serberine by Pedrigano slaine, False Pedrigano hang'd by quaint deuice, Faire Isabella by her-selfe misdone, Prince Balthazar by Bel-imepria stabd, The Duke of Castile an his wicked sonne Both done to death by olde Hieronimo, My Bel-imperia falne as Dido fell, And good Hieronimo slaine by himselfe! I, these were spectacles to please my soule. Now will I beg at louely Proserpine That, by the vertue of her princely doome, I may consort my freends in pleasing sort, And on my foes work iust and sharpe reuenge. Ile lead my freend Horatio through those feeldes Where neuer-dying warres are still inurde; Ile lead faire Isabella to that traine Where pittie weepes but neuer feeleth paine; Ile lead my Bel-imperia to those ioyes That vestal virgins and faire queenes possess; Ile lead Hieronimo where Orpheus plaies, Adding sweet pleasure to eternall daies. But say, Reuenge,— for thou must helpe or none,— Against the rest how shall my hate be showne?

REUENGE. This hand shall hale them down to deepest hell, Where none but furies, bugs and tortures dwell.

GHOAST. Then, sweet Reuenge, doo this at my request: Let me iudge and doome them to vnrest; Let loose poore Titius from the vultures gripe, And let Don Ciprian supply his roome; Place Don Lorenzo on Ixions wheele, And let the louers endles paines surcease, Iuno forget olde wrath and graunt him ease; Hang Balthazar about Chimeras neck, And let him there bewaile his bloudy loue, Repining at our ioyes that are aboue; Let Serberine goe roule the fatall stone And take from Siciphus his endles mone; False Pedringano, for his trecherie, Let him be dragde through boyling Acheron, And there liue dying still in endles flames, Blaspheming gods and all their holy names.

REUENGE. Then haste we downe to meet thy freends and foes; To place thy freends in ease, the rest in woes. For heere though death [doth] end their miserie, Ile there begin their endles tragedie.