[ACT III. SCENE 11.]
[A street.]
Enter two PORTINGALES, and HIERONIMO
meets them.
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.
He goeth in at one doore and comes out at another.
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!
Exit.
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.
[Exeunt.]
[ACT III. SCENE 12.]
[The Spanish court.]
Enter HIERONIMO with a ponyard in one hand,
and a rope in the other.
HIERO. Now, sir, perhaps I come to see the king,
The king sees me, and 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:
He flings away the dagger & halter.
This way Ile take; and this way comes the king,
He takes them up againe.
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!
Enter KING, EMBASSADOR, CASTILLE, and
LORENZO.
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,
He diggeth with his dagger.
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.
Exit.
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.
Exeunt.