BAL. Half on, the other is in my hand.
HIERO. Dispatch, for shame! are you so long?
Exit BALTHAZAR.
Bethink thyself, Hieronimo,
Recall thy wits, recompt thy former wrongs
Thou hast receiv'd by murder of thy son,
And lastly, but not least, how Isabell,
Once his mother and my dearest wife,
All woe-begone for him, hath slain herself.
Behooves thee then, Hieronimo, to be
Reveng'd! The plot is laid of dire revenge:
On then, Hieronimo; pursue revenge,
For nothing wants but acting of revenge!
Exit HIERONIMO.
Enter SPANISH KING, VICEROY, the DUKE
OF CASTILE, and their train, to the gallery.
KING. Now, viceroy, shall we see the tragedy
Of Suleiman, the Turkish emperor,
Perform'd by pleasure by your son the prince,
My nephew Don Lorenzo, and my niece.
VICE. Who? Bel-imperia?
KING. Aye; and Hieronimo our marshall,
At whose request they deign to do't themselves.
These be our pastimes in the court of Spain.
Here, brother, you shall be the book-keeper:
This is the argument of that they show.
He giveth him a book.