HIERO. Away, Lorenzo! hinder me no more,
For thou hast made me bankrupt of my bliss!
Give me my son! You shall not ransom him!
Away! I'll rip the bowels of the earth,
He diggeth with his dagger.
And ferry over th' Elysian plains
And bring my son to show his deadly wounds.
Stand from about me! I'll make a pickaxe of my poniard,
And here surrender up my marshallship;
For I'll go marshall up the fiends in hell,
To be avenged on you all for this.
KING. What means this outrage?
Will none of you restrain his fury?
HIERO. Nay, soft and fair; you shall not need to strive!
Needs must he go that the devils drive.
Exit.
KING. What accident hath happ'd to Hieronimo?
I have not seen him to demean him so.
LOR. My gracious lord, he is with extreme pride
Conceiv'd of young Horatio, his son,
And covetous of having himself
The ransom of the young prince, Balthazar,
Distract, and in a manner lunatic.
KING. Believe me, nephew, we are sorry for 't;
This is the love that fathers bear their sons.
But, gentle brother, go give to him this gold,
The prince's ransom; let him have his due;
For what he hath, Horatio shall not want.
Haply Hieronimo hath need thereof.
LOR. But if he be thus helplessly distract,
'Tis requisite his office be resign'd
And giv'n to one of more discretion.