[ACT III. SCENE 8.]
[HIERONIMO's house.]
Enter ISABELL and her MAID.
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.
She runnes lunatick.
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?
Exeunt.
[ACT III. SCENE 9.]
[The DUKE's castle.]
BEL-IMPERIA at a window.
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.
Enter [CHRISTOPHEL.]
CHRIS. Come, Madame Bel-imperia, this [must] not be!
Exeunt.
[ACT III. Scene 10.]
[A room in the DUKE's castle.]
Enter LORENZO, BALTHAZAR and the PAGE.
LOR. Boy, 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.
Exit PAGE.
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.
Enter BEL-IMPERIA.
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.
He whispereth in her eare.
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.
Exit.
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.
Exeunt.