GHOST. Awake, Revenge! reveal this mystery!
REVENGE. The two first do the nuptial torches bear,
As brightly burning as the midday's sun;
But after them doth Hymen hie as fast,
Clothed in sable and a saffron robe,
And blows them out and quencheth them with blood,
As discontent that things continue so.
GHOST. Sufficeth me; thy meanings understood,
And thanks to thee and those infernal powers
That will not tolerate a lover's woe.
Rest thee; for I will sit to see the rest.
REVENGE. Then argue not; for thou hast thy request.
Exeunt.
[ACT IV. SCENE 1.]
[The DUKE's castle.]
Enter BEL-IMPERIA and HIERONIMO.
BEL-IMPERIA. Is this the love thou bear'st Horatio?
Is this the kindness that thou counterfeit'st,
Are these the fruits of thine incessant tears?
Hieronimo, are these thy passions,
Thy protestations and thy deep laments,
That thou wert wont to weary men withal?
O unkind father! O deceitful world!
With what excuses canst thou show thyself,—
With what dishonour, and the hate of men,—
Thus to neglect the loss and life of him
Whom both my letters and thine own belief
Assures thee to be causeless slaughtered?
Hieronimo! for shame, Hieronimo,
Be not a history to after times
Of such ingratitude unto thy son!
Unhappy mothers of such children then!
But monstrous fathers, to forget so soon
The death of those whom they with care and cost
Have tender'd so, thus careless should be lost!
Myself, a stranger in respect to thee,
So lov'd his life as still I wish their deaths.
Nor shall his death be unreveng'd by me.
Although I bear it out for fashion's sake;
For here I swear in sight of heav'n and earth,
Shouldst thou neglect the love thou shouldst retain
And give it over and devise no more,
Myself should send their hateful souls to hell
That wrought his downfall with extremest death!
HIE. But may it be that Bel-imperia
Vows such revenge as she hath deign'd to say?
Why then, I see that heav'n applies our drift,
And all the saints do 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 fear and care in not believing it!
Nor think I thoughtless think upon a mean
To let his death be unreveng'd at full.
And here I vow, so you but give consent
And will conceal my resolution,
I will ere long determine of their deaths
That causeless thus have murdered my son.