FOOTNOTES:
[1] Its great popularity, no doubt, was one cause. Prynne, in his "Histriomastix," fol. 556, has a curious passage, which in all probability refers to the "Spanish Tragedy." He is quoting the authority of the "English Gentlewoman," by R. Brathwaite, who, it is stated in the margin, was present at the occurrence: "To these two former precedents (says Prynne) I shall annex the parallel example of a late English Gentlewoman of good ranke who, daily bestowing the expense of her best hours upon the stage, and at last falling into a dangerous sickness of which she died, her friends in her extremity sent for a minister to comfort, counsel, and prepare her for her ende; who, coming to instruct her, and advising her to repent, and call upon God for mercy, she made him no reply at all, but cried out, 'Hieronimo, Hieronimo! O, let me see Hieronimo acted' (calling out for a play, instead of crying unto God for mercy), and so closed her dying eyes."—Collier.
[2] ["Apology for Actors," 1612, repr. 1841, p. 45.]
[3] This fact depends merely upon the evidence of Decker, which is denied by Mr Gifford. At the same time, it is a point of little importance; for, were it true, it could form no imputation against Ben Jonson. Mr Gifford also (Jonson's "Works," i. xvii.) notices the adicions made by Jonson to "Jeronimo." This fact rests upon the following quotations from Henslowe's "Diary," edit. 1845, pp. 201, 223:—
"Lent unto Mr Alleyn, the 25 of September, 1601, to lend unto Bengemen Johnson, upon his writing of his adicions in Geronymo, the some of xxxxs."
"Lent unto Bengemy Johnson, at the apoyntment of E. Alleyn and Wm. Byrde, the 24 of June, 1602, in earneste of a boocke called Richard Crockbacke, and for new adicyons for Jeronymo, the some of xli."
Unquestionably these additions[4] bear marks of a hand greatly superior to that of Kyd, though Mr Hawkins says "they were foisted in by the players." They are mentioned on the title-page of the edition of 1602 of the "Spanish Tragedy". Henslowe confounds "Jeronimo" and the "Spanish Tragedy," and it does not appear that any additions were made to the former.
In the last edition of Dodsley, a curious ballad on the subject was given as an illustration. It is entitled "The Spanish Tragedy, containing the Lamentable Murder of Horatio and Bellimperia: With the pitiful Death of Old Hieronimo. To the tune of Queen Dido. Printed at London for H. Gosson," with a woodcut.
[4] First printed in the 4to of 1602.
[5] [Old copies, Portingal.]
[6] [He is called Balthezar in the "First Part of Jeronimo.">[
[7] Wonted, edits. 1618, '23, '33.
[8] There in the pride and prime, ditto.
[9] Summer's, 1623, '33.
[10] Slackt, 1618.
[11] Censurer, 1618, '23, '33.
[12] Shapes of ever-blooming night, 1618. Shades of ever-blooming night, 1623, '33.
[13] Field, 1618, '23, '33.
[14] Fall down, ditto.
[15] Murderers greeve, 1618. Murderers greene, 1623, '33.
[16] —— smile. I begg'd, 1618, '23, '33.
[17] Whispered. So in Gascoigne's "Fable of Ferdinando Jeronimi" (Works, by Hazlitt, i. 422): "After his due reverence, hee layde his hande on hir temples, and privily rounding hir in hir eare;" and in Lyly's "Euphues," 1579, we have, "rounding Philautus in his eare." See also Steevens's note on King John, ii. 2.
[18] Of Hor, second edit.; of Horror, 1618, '23, '33. For the gates of horn, see Virgil, B. vi., Sunt geminæ somni portæ, &c.
[19] Pretends, 1618, '23, 33. [And perhaps rightly, as pretend was frequently used in the sense of intend, purpose.]
[20] Will, 1633.
[21] Bounds, 1623, '33.
[22] Skies, 1633.
[23] Valour, 1618, '23, '33.
[24] Coronet, ditto.
[25] This play, though not mentioned in the "Key to the Rehearsal," seems to have been one of those ridiculed by the Duke of Buckingham in that witty performance. See act v.—
"The army, wrangling for the gold you gave,
First fell to words, and then to handy-blows."
[26] When, 1618, '23, '33.
[27] Dark'd, ditto
[28] Dropt, ditto.
[29] And soldiers lie maim'd, ditto.
[30] Unbowed, ditto.
[31] His, 1618.
[32] Pickt, 1618.
[33] Tribute may be paid, 1618, '23, '33.
[34] Our, ditto.
[35] That, ditto.
[36] This, ditto.
[37] The, 1618, '23, '33.
[38] That, 1618, '23.
[39] Trumpet, 1618, '23, '33. [A tucket is a flourish on a trumpet; but it is not perfectly clear that the word was not understood in the sense of a trumpet itself. See a note in the "First Part of Jeronimo," vol. iv., p. 380.]
[40] Gave them charge, 1618, '23, '33.
[41] Meets, 1618, '23, '33.
[42] The, 1618, '23, '33.
[43] Observes, ditto.
[44] As though, 1618.
[45] Free, omitted ditto.
[46] Lord, 1618, '23, '33.
[47] The, ditto.
[48] So, ditto.
[49] So in Shakespeare's "King John," iii. 1—
"You are the hare, of whom the proverb goes,
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard."
[50] [Reward. It seemed idle to reprint the long note in the last edition of Dodsley, illustrating the meaning of a word with which every schoolboy is acquainted.]
[51] Called King of Portugal or Portingal in the "First Part of Jeronimo." The scene here changes to Portugal.—Collier.
[52] This, 1618, '23, '33.
[53] It, 1618.
[54] Adjudged, 1618, '23, '33.
[55] I am, 1633.
[56] Nihil, 1633.
[57] These, 1623, '33.
[58] Put his, ditto.
[59] But where? 1618, '23, '33.
[60] Will fly, 1618, '23, '33.
[61] The, 1618, '23, '33.
[62] Hast, 1623, '33.
[63] Thoughts, 1618, '28, '33.
[64] Now Ile, ditto.
[65] Deare, ditto.
[66] Chiefest, 1623, '33.
[67] Ile not refuse this doleful heavy, 1618, '23, '33.
[68] To, ditto.
[69] A omitted, 1618, '23.
[70] i.e., Threw him on the ground with force, as in the "Second Part of Antonio and Mellida," iv. 3—
"Distraught and raving, from a turret's top,
He threw his body in the swolne sea,
And as he headlong topsie-turvie ding'd downe,
He still cry'd Mellida."
Again, in Nash's "Lenten Stuffe," 1599: "For besides the loud bellowing ... which hath dung me in a manner down," &c. And in Marston's "Satires"—
"Is ding'd to hell, and vulture eats his heart."
[71] So, omitted, 1618, '23, '33.
[72] Carrying or bearing. So in Churchyard's "Challenge," 1593, p. 116—
"What cunning heads and hands can catch in hold,
That covetous mindes doth seek to weld alone."
[73] Sorrowes, 1618, '23, '33.
[74] This scarf pluckt off from, ditto.
[75] Thou, omitted, 1618, '23, '33.
[76] Of, 1618, '23, 33.
[77] At, ditto.
[78] [Live, Allde's edition.]
[79] So in "Wily Beguil'd," 1606—
"By Jesus, I cannot play the dissembler,
And wooe my love with courtly ambages."
[80] Devis'd,1618, '23, '33.
[81] That is, act from caprice. So in Ben Jonson's "Every Man out of his Humour," induction: "When you come to plays, be humorous, look with a good starch'd face, and ruffle your brow like a new boot; laugh at nothing but your own jests, or else as the noblemen laugh." Again, in Decker's "Satiromastix," 1602—
"All our understanding faculties
Sit there in their high court of parliament,
Enacting laws to sway this humorous world,
This little isle of man."
And in the "Second Part of King Henry IV.," iv. 4, we have—
"Being incens'd, he's flint,
As humorous as winter" ——
See also Mr Steevens's note on the last passage.
[82] Delightsome, 1618, '12, '33.
[83] Revellinge, ditto.
[84] Lord, ditto.
[85] To jest is to play a part in a masque. See Dr Farmer's note on "King Richard II.," i. 3—
"As gentle and as jocund as to jest
Go I to fight."
[86] Five and, omitted, 1623, '33.
[87] We, 1618, '23, '33.
[ACT II.]
Enter Lorenzo and Balthazar.
Lorenzo.
My lord, though Bell'-Imperia seem thus coy,
Let reason hold you in your wonted joy:
In time the savage bull sustains the yoke;
In time all haggard hawks will stoop to lure;
In time small wedges cleave the hardest oak;
In time the flint[88] is pierc'd with softest shower;
And she in time will fall from her disdain,
And rue[89] the sufferance of your friendly pain.
Balthazar.
No, she is wilder, and more hard withal,
Than beast or bird, or tree, or stony wall:[90]
But wherefore blot I Bell'-Imperia's name?
It is my fault, not she, that merits blame.
My feature is not to content her sight;
My words are rude, and work her no delight:
The lines I send her are but harsh and ill,
Such as do drop from Pan and Marsyas'[91] quill.
My presents are not of sufficient cost,
And being worthless, all my labour's lost.
Yet might she love me for my valiancy:[92]
Ay, but that's slander'd by captivity.
Yet might she love me to content her sire:
Ay, but her reason masters his[93] desire.
Yet might she love me, as her brother's friend:
Ay, but her hopes aim at some other end.
Yet might she love me to uprear her state:
Ay, but perhaps she hopes[94] some nobler mate.
Yet might she love me as her beauty's thrall:
Ay, but I fear she cannot love at all.
Lorenzo.
My lord, for my sake leave these extasies,
And doubt not but we'll find some remedy.
Some cause there is, that lets you not be lov'd;
First that must needs be known, and then remov'd.
What, if my sister love some other knight?
Balthazar.
My summer's day will turn to winter's night.
Lorenzo.
I have already found a stratagem,
To sound the bottom of this doubtful theme.
My lord, for once you shall be rul'd by me;
Hinder me not, whate'er you hear or see:
By force or fair means will I cast about,
To find the truth of all this question out.
Ho, Pedringano!
Enter Pedringano.
Pedringano.
Signior!
Lorenzo.
Vien que presto.
Pedringano.
Hath your lordship any service to command me?
Lorenzo.
Ay, Pedringano, service of import;
And, not to spend the time in trifling words,
Thus stands the case: It is not long, thou know'st,
Since I did shield thee from my father's wrath,
For thy conveyance in Andrea's love:
For which thou wert adjudg'd to punishment:
I stood betwixt thee and thy punishment.
And since thou know'st how I have favour'd thee,
Now to these favours will I add reward,
Not with fair words, but store of golden coin,
And lands and living[95] join'd with dignities,
If thou but satisfy my just demand:
Tell truth, and have me for thy lasting friend.
Pedringano.
Whate'er it be your lordship shall demand,
My bounden duty bids me tell the truth,
If case it lie in me[96] to tell the truth.
Lorenzo.
Then, Pedringano, this is my demand:
Whom loves my sister Bell'-Imperia?
For she reposeth all her trust in thee;
Speak, man, and gain both friendship and reward:
I mean, whom loves she in Andrea's place?
Pedringano.
Alas, my lord, since Don Andrea's death,
I have no credit with her as before;
And therefore know not, if she love or no.
Lorenzo.
Nay, if thou dally, then I am thy foe.
[Draws his sword.
And fear shall force what friendship cannot win:
Thy death shall bury what thy life conceals;
Thou dy'st for more esteeming her than me.
Pedringano.
O, stay, my lord.
Lorenzo.
Yet speak the truth, and I will guerdon thee,
And shield thee from whatever can ensue;
And will conceal whate'er proceeds from thee:
But if thou dally once again, thou dy'st.
Pedringano.
If madam Bell'-Imperia be in love——
Lorenzo.
What, villain? ifs and ands? [Threatens him.
Pedringano.
O, stay, my lord; she loves Horatio.
[Balthazar starts back.
Lorenzo.
What, Don Horatio, our knight marshal's son?
Pedringano.
Even him, my lord.
Lorenzo.
Now say but how know'st thou he[97] is in love,
And thou shalt find me kind and liberal:
Stand up, I say, and fearless tell the truth.
Pedringano.
She sent him letters, which myself perus'd,
Full-fraught with lines and arguments of love,
Preferring him before Prince Balthazar.
Lorenzo.
Swear on this cross,[98] that what thou say'st is true;
And that thou wilt conceal what thou hast told.
Pedringano.
I swear to both, by him that made us all.
Lorenzo.
In hope thine oath is true, here's thy reward:
But if I prove thee perjur'd and unjust,
This very sword, whereon thou took'st thine oath,
Shall be the worker of thy tragedy.
Pedringano.
What I have said is true, and shall (for me)
Be still conceal'd from Bell'-Imperia:
Besides, your honour's liberality
Deserves my duteous service ev'n till death.
Lorenzo.
Let this be all that thou shalt do for me:
Be watchful, when and where these lovers meet,
And give me notice in some secret sort.
Pedringano.
I will, my lord.
Lorenzo.
Then shalt thou find that I am liberal:
Thou know'st that I can more advance thy state
Than she; be therefore wise, and fail me not:
Go and attend her, as thy custom is,
Lest absence make her think thou dost amiss.
[Exit Ped.
Why so: tam armis, quam ingenio:
Where words prevail not, violence prevails;
But gold doth more than either of them both.
How likes Prince Balthazar this[99] stratagem?
Balthazar.
Both well and ill; it makes me glad and sad:
Glad, that I know the hinderer of my love;
Sad, that I fear she hates me whom I love;
Glad, that I know on whom to be reveng'd;
Sad, that she'll fly me, if I take revenge;
Yet must I take revenge, or die myself,
For love resisted grows impatient.
I think Horatio be my destin'd plague:
First, in his hand he brandished a sword,
And with that sword he fiercely waged war,
And in that war he gave me dang'rous wounds,
And by those wounds he forced me to yield,
And by my yielding I became his slave:
Now in his mouth he carries pleasing words,
Which pleasing words do harbour sweet conceits;
Which sweet conceits are lim'd with sly deceits,[100]
Which sly deceits[101] smooth Bell'-Imperia's ears;
And through her ears dive down into her heart,
And in her heart set[102] him, where I should stand.
Thus hath he ta'en my body by his force,
And now by sleight would captivate my soul:
But in his fall I'll tempt the destinies,
And either lose my life or win my love.
Lorenzo.
Let's go, my lord, your[103] staying stays revenge:
Do you but follow me, and gain your love,
Her favour must be won by his remove. [Exeunt.
Enter Horatio and Bell'-Imperia.
Horatio.
Now, madam, since by favour of your love
Our hidden smoke has turn'd to open flame,
And that with looks and words we feed our thoughts,
(Two chief contents) where more cannot be had;
Thus in the midst of love's fair blandishments,
Why show you sign of inward languishments?
[Pedringano shows all to the Prince and Lorenzo, placing them in secret.
Bell'-Imperia.
My heart, sweet friend, is like a ship at sea,
She wisheth port: where, riding all at ease,
She may repair what stormy times have worn:
And leaning on the shore, may sing with joy,
That pleasure follows pain, and bliss annoy.
Possession of thy love's the only port,
Wherein my heart, with fears and hopes long toss'd,
Each hour doth wish and long to make resort,
There to repair[104] the joys that it hath lost:
And sitting safe, to sing in Cupid's quire,
That sweetest bliss is crown of love's desire.
Balthazar and Lorenzo aside.[105]
Balthazar.
O sleep, mine eyes, see not my love profan'd;
Be deaf, mine ears, hear not my discontent;
Die, heart: another 'joys what thou deserv'st.
Lorenzo.
Watch still, mine eyes, to see this[106] love disjoin'd:
Hear still, mine ears, to hear them both lament:
Live,[107] heart, to joy at fond Horatio's fall.
Bell'-Imperia.
Why stands Horatio speechless all this while?
Horatio.
The less I speak, the more I meditate.
Bell'-Imperia.
But whereon dost thou chiefly[108] meditate?
Horatio.
On dangers past and pleasures to ensue. [Aside.
Balthazar.
On pleasures past and dangers to ensue.
Bell'-Imperia.
What dangers and what pleasures dost thou mean?
Horatio.
Dangers of war and pleasures of our love.
Lorenzo.
Dangers of death, but pleasures none at all.
[Aside.
Bell'-Imperia.
Let dangers go, thy war shall be with me:
But such a warring, as breaks no bond of peace.
Speak thou fair words, I'll cross them with fair words;
Send thou sweet looks, I'll meet them with sweet looks:
Write loving lines, I'll answer loving lines;
Give me a kiss, I'll countercheck thy kiss:
Be this our warring peace or peaceful war.
Horatio.
But, gracious madam, then appoint the field,
Where trial of this war shall first be made.
Balthazar.
Ambitious villain, how his boldness grows! [Aside.
Bell'-Imperia.
Then be[109] thy father's pleasant bow'r the field,
Where first we vow'd a[110] mutual amity;
The court were dangerous, that place is safe:
Our hour shall be,[111] when Vesper 'gins to rise,
That summons home distressful[112] travellers:
There none shall hear us but the harmless birds;
Happily the gentle nightingale
Shall carol us asleep, ere we be ware,
And singing with the prickle at her breast,
Tell our delight and mirthful[113] dalliance:
Till then each hour will seem a year and more.
Horatio.
But, honey sweet and honourable love,
Return we now into your father's sight,
Dangerous suspicion waits on our delight.
Lorenzo.
Ay, danger mixed with jealous despite,
Shall send thy soul into eternal night. [Exeunt.
Enter King of Spain, Portingal Ambassador, Don Cyprian, &c.
King.
Brother of Castile, to the prince's love
What says your daughter Bell'-Imperia?
Cyprian.
Although she coy it, as becomes her kind,
And yet dissemble that she loves the prince;
I doubt not, I, but she will stoop in time:
And were she froward, which she will not be,
Yet herein shall she follow my advice;
Which is to love him, or forego my love.
King.
Then, lord ambassador of Portingal,
Advise thy king to make this marriage up,
For strength'ning of our late-confirmed league;
I know no better means to make us friends.
Her dowry shall be large and liberal;
Besides that she is daughter and half-heir
Unto our brother here, Don Cyprian,
And shall enjoy the moiety of his land,
I'll grace her marriage with an uncle's gift:
And this it is (in case the match go forward),
The tribute, which you pay, shall be releas'd:
And if by Balthazar she have a son,
He shall enjoy the kingdom after us.
Ambassador.
I'll make the motion to my[114] sovereign liege,
And work it, if my counsel may prevail.
King.
Do so, my lord, and if he give consent,
I hope his presence here will honour us,
In celebration of the nuptial day;
And let himself[115] determine of the time.
Ambassador.
Will't please your grace command[116] me aught beside?
King.
Commend me to the king; and so farewell.
But where's Prince Balthazar to take his leave?
Ambassador.
That is perform'd already, my good lord.
King.
Amongst the rest of what you have in charge,
The prince's ransom must not be forgot:
That's none of mine, but his that took him prisoner;
And well his forwardness deserves reward:
It was Horatio, our knight marshal's son.
Ambassador.
Between us there's a price already pitch'd,
And shall be sent with all convenient speed.
King.
Then once again farewell, my lord.
Ambassador.
Farewell, my lord of Castile, and the rest. [Exit.
King.
Now, brother, you must take some little pains[117]
To win fair Bell'-Imperia from her will;
Young virgins must be ruled by their friends:
The prince is amiable, and loves her well:
If she neglect him and forego his love,
She both will wrong her own estate and ours;
Therefore, whiles I do entertain the prince
With greatest pleasure[118] that our court affords,
Endeavour you to win your daughter's thought:
If she give back, all this will come to nought.
[Exeunt.
Enter Horatio, Bell'-Imperia, and Pedringano.
Horatio.
Now that the night begins with sable wings
To overcloud the brightness of the sun,
And that in darkness pleasures may be done;
Come, Bell'-Imperia, let us to the bower,
And there in safety pass a pleasant hour.
Bell'-Imperia.
I follow thee, my love, and will not back,
Although my fainting heart controls my soul.
Horatio.
Why, make you doubt of Pedringano's faith?
Bell'-Imperia.
No, he is as trusty as my second self.—
Go, Pedringano, watch without the gate,
And let us know, if any make approach.
Pedringano.
Instead of watching, I'll deserve more gold,
By fetching Don Lorenzo to this match. [Aside.
[Exit Ped.
Horatio.
What means my love?
Bell'-Imperia.
I know not what myself:
And yet my heart foretells me some mischance.
Horatio.
Sweet, say not so; fair fortune is our friend,
And heav'ns have[119] shut up day to pleasure us.
The stars, thou seest, hold back their twinkling shine,
And Luna hides herself to pleasure us.
Bell'-Imperia.
Thou hast prevail'd; I'll conquer my misdoubt,
And in thy love and counsel drown my fear.
I fear no more: love now is all my thoughts.
Why sit we not? for pleasure asketh ease.
Horatio.
The more thou sitt'st within these leafy bow'rs,
The more will Flora deck it with her flow'rs.
Bell'-Imperia.
Ay, but if Flora spy Horatio here,
Her jealous eye will think I sit too near.
Horatio.
Hark, madam, how the birds record[120] by night,
For joy that Bell'-Imperia sits in sight.
Bell'-Imperia.
No, Cupid counterfeits the nightingale,
To frame sweet music to Horatio's tale.
Horatio.
If Cupid sing, then Venus is not far:
Ay, thou art Venus, or some fairer star.
Bell'-Imperia.
If I be Venus, thou must needs be Mars;
And where Mars reigneth, there must needs be wars.
Horatio.
Then thus begin our wars; put forth thy hand,
That it may combat with my ruder hand.
Bell'-Imperia.
Set forth thy foot to try the push of mine.
Horatio.
But first my looks shall combat against thine.
Bell'-Imperia.
Then ward thyself, I dart this kiss at thee.
Horatio.
Thus I retort[121] the dart thou threw'st at me.
Bell'-Imperia.
Nay, then to gain the glory of the field,
My twining arms shall yoke, and make thee yield.
Horatio.
Nay, then my arms are large and strong withal:
Thus elms by vines are compass'd, till they fall.
Bell'-Imperia.
O, let me go; for in my troubled eyes
Now mayst thou read, that life in passion dies.
Horatio.
O, stay a while, and I will die with thee,
So shalt thou yield, and yet have conquer'd me.
Bell'-Imperia.
Who's there? Pedringano? we are betray'd!
Enter Lorenzo, Balthazar, Cerberine, and Pedringano disguised.
Lorenzo.
My lord, away with her, take her aside.[122]
O sir, forbear: your valour is already tried.
Quickly despatch, my masters.
[They hang him in the arbour.
Horatio.
Lorenzo.
Ay, thus and thus; these are the fruits of love.
[They stab him.
Bell'-Imperia.
O, save his life, and let me die for him!
O, save him, brother: save him, Balthazar;
I lov'd Horatio; but he lov'd not me.
Balthazar.
But Balthazar loves Bell'-Imperia.
Lorenzo.
Although his life were still[123] ambitious, proud,
Yet is he at the highest, now he is dead.
Bell'-Imperia.
Murder! murder! Help, Hieronimo, help.
Lorenzo.
Come, stop her mouth, away with her. [Exeunt.
Enter Hieronimo in his shirt, &c.
HIERONIMO.
What outcries pluck[124] me from my naked bed,[125]
And chill[126] my throbbing heart with trembling fear,
Which never danger yet could daunt before?
Who calls Hieronimo? speak, here I am.
I did not slumber; therefore 'twas no dream.
No, no, it was some woman cried for help;
And here within this[127] garden did she cry;
And in this garden must I rescue her.
But stay, what murd'rous spectacle is this?
A man hang'd up, and all the murderers gone!
And in my bower, to lay the guilt on me!
This place was made for pleasure, not for death.
[He cuts him down.
Those garments that he wears I oft have seen:
Alas, it is Horatio, my sweet son!
O no, but he that[128] whilome was my son!
O, was it thou that call'dst me from my bed?
O speak, if any spark of life remain:
I am thy father; who hath slain my son?
What savage monster, not of human kind,
Hath here[129] been glutted with thy harmless blood,
And left thy bloody corpse dishonour'd here,
For me amidst these dark and deathful shades,
To drown thee with an ocean of my tears?
O heav'ns, why made you night to cover sin?
By day this deed of darkness had not been.
O earth, why didst thou not in time devour
The vild[130] profaner of this sacred bow'r?
O poor Horatio! what hadst thou misdone,
To lese thy life, ere life was new-begun?
O wicked butcher! whatsoe'er thou wert,
How couldst thou strangle virtue and desert?
Ay me most wretched, that have lost my joy,
In lesing my Horatio, my sweet boy!
Enter Isabella.
Isabella.
My husband's absence makes my heart to throb:—
Hieronimo!
Hieronimo.
Here, Isabella, help me to lament;
For sighs are stopp'd, and all my tears are spent.
Isabella.
What world of grief! my son Horatio!
O, where's the author of this endless woe?
Hieronimo.
To know the author were some ease of grief,
For in revenge my heart would find relief.
Isabella.
Then is he gone? and is my son gone too?
O, gush out, tears, fountains and floods of tears;
Blow, sighs, and raise an everlasting storm;
For outrage fits our cursed wretchedness.
[Aye me,[131] Hieronimo, sweet husband, speak!
Hieronimo.
He supp'd with us to-night, frolic and merry,
And said he would go visit Balthazar
At the duke's palace: there the prince doth lodge.
He had no custom to stay out so late,
He may be in his chamber; some go see—Roderigo, ho.
Isabella.
Aye me, he raves! sweet Hieronimo!
Hieronimo.
True, all Spain takes note of it.
Besides, he is so generally belov'd,
His majesty the other day did grace him
With waiting on his cup: these be favours,
Which do assure me that he cannot be short-liv'd.
Isabella.
Sweet Hieronimo!
Hieronimo.
I wonder, how this fellow got his clothes:
Sirrah, sirrah, I'll know the truth of all:
Jaques, run to the Duke of Castile's presently,
And bid my son Horatio to come home,
I and his mother have had strange dreams to-night:
Do you hear me, sir?
Jaques.
Ay, sir.
Hieronimo.
Well, sir, be gone. Pedro, come hither;
Know'st thou who this is?
Pedro.
Too well, sir.
Hieronimo.
Too well! Who, who is it? Peace, Isabella.
Nay, blush not, man.
Pedro.
It is my lord Horatio.
Hieronimo.
Ha, ha, St James; but this doth make me laugh,
That there are more deluded than myself.
Pedro.
Deluded?
Hieronimo.
Ay, I would have sworn myself, within this hour,
That this had been my son Horatio,
His garments are so like: ha! are they not great persuasions?
Isabella.
O, would to God it were not so!
Hieronimo.
Were not, Isabella? dost thou dream it is?
Can thy soft bosom entertain a thought,
That such a black deed of mischief should be done
On one so pure and spotless as our son?
Away, I am asham'd.
Isabella.
Dear Hieronimo,
Cast a more serious eye upon thy grief,
Weak apprehension gives but weak belief.
Hieronimo.
It was a man, sure, that was hang'd up here,
A youth, as I remember: I cut him down.
If it should prove my son now after all,
Say you, say you! light, lend me a taper;
Let me look again.
O God! confusion, mischief, torment, death and hell,
Drop all your stings at once in my cold bosom,
That now is stiff with horror; kill me quickly:
Be gracious to me, thou infective night,
And drop this deed of murder down on me;
Gird in my waste of grief with thy large darkness,
And let me not survive to see the light,
May put me in the mind I had a son.
Isabella.
O sweet Horatio! O my dearest son!
Hieronimo.
How strangely had I lost my way to grief!]
Sweet lovely rose, ill-pluck'd before thy time,
Fair worthy son, not conquer'd, but betray'd,
I'll kiss thee now, for words with tears are stay'd.
Isabella.
And I'll close up the glasses of his sight,
For once these eyes were only[132] my delight.
Hieronimo.
Seest thou this handkerchief besmear'd with blood?
It shall not from me, till I take revenge:
Seest thou those wounds, that yet are bleeding fresh?
I'll not entomb them, till I have revenge:[133]
Then will I joy amidst my discontent;
Till then my sorrow[134] never shall be spent.
Isabella.
The heav'ns are just, murder cannot be hid:
Time is the author both of truth and right,
And time will bring this treachery to light.
Hieronimo.
Meanwhile, good Isabella, cease thy plaints,
Or, at the least, dissemble them awhile:
So shall we sooner find the practice out,
And learn by whom all this was brought about.
Come, Isabel, now let us take him up,
[They take him up.
And bear him in from out this cursed place.
I'll say his dirge; singing fits not this case.
O aliquis mihi quas pulchrum ver educat herbas,
[Hieronimo sets his breast unto his sword.
Misceat, & nostro detur medicina dolori:
Aut si qui faciunt annorum oblivia succos,
Præbeat, ipse metam magnum quæcunque per orbem,
Gramina sol pulchras ejecit lucis in oras,
Ipse bibam quicquid meditatur saga veneni,
Quicquid & irarum vi cæca nenia nectit.
Omnia perpetiar, lethum quoque, dum semel omnis
Noster in extincto moriatur pectore sensus:
Ergo tuos oculos nunquam, mea vita, videbo,
Et tua perpetuus sepelivit lumina somnus.
Emoriar tecum sic, sic juvat ire sub umbras.
Attamen absistam properato cedere letho,
Ne mortem vindicta tuam tum nulla sequatur.
[Here he throws it from him, and bears the body away.
Enter Andrea's Ghost, with Revenge.
Andrea.
Brought'st thou me hither to increase my pain?
I look'd, that Balthazar should have been slain;
But 'tis my friend Horatio that is slain:
And they abuse fair Bell'-Imperia,
On whom I doated more than all the world,
Because she lov'd me more than all the world.
Revenge.
Thou talk'st of harvest,[135] when the corn is green;
The end is crown[136] of every work well done:
The sickle comes not, till the corn be ripe.
Be still; and ere I lead thee from this place,
I'll show thee Balthazar in heavy case.