The trumpets sound a dead march, the KING OF SPAIN
mourning after his brother's body, and the KING OF
PORTINGAL bearing the body of his son.
[CHORUS.]
Enter GHOST and REVENGE.
GHOST. Aye; now my hopes have end in their effects,
When blood and sorrow finish my desires:
Horatio murder'd in his father's bower,
Vile Serberine by Pedrigano slain,
False Pedrigano hang'd by quaint device,
Fair Isabella by herself misdone,
Prince Balthazar by Bel-imperia stabb'd,
The Duke of Castile and his wicked son
Both done to death by old Hieronimo,
My Bel-imperia fallen as Dido fell,
And good Hieronimo slain by himself!
Aye, these were spectacles to please my soul.
Now will I beg at lovely Proserpine
That, by the virtue of her princely doom,
I may consort my friends in pleasing sort,
And on my foes work just and sharp revenge.
I'll lead my friend Horatio through those fields
Where never-dying wars are still inur'd;
I'll lead fair Isabella to that train
Where pity weeps but never feeleth pain;
I'll lead my Bel-imperia to those joys
That vestal virgins and fair queens possess;
I'll lead Hieronimo where Orpheus plays,
Adding sweet pleasure to eternal days.
But say, Revenge,—for thou must help or none,—
Against the rest how shall my hate be shown?
REVENGE. This hand shall hale them down to deepest hell,
Where none but furies, bugs and tortures dwell.
GHOST. Then, sweet Revenge, do this at my request:
Let me judge and doom them to unrest;
Let loose poor Titius from the vulture's gripe,
And let Don Ciprian supply his room;
Place Don Lorenzo on Ixion's wheel,
And let the lovers' endless pains surcease,
Juno forget old wrath and grant him ease;
Hang Balthazar about Chimera's neck,
And let him there bewail his bloody love,
Repining at our joys that are above;
Let Serberine go roll the fatal stone
And take from Sisyphus his endless moan;
False Pedringano, for his treachery,
Let him be dragg'd through boiling Acheron,
And there live dying still in endless flames,
Blaspheming gods and all their holy names.
REVENGE. Then haste we down to meet thy friends and foes;
To place thy friends in ease, the rest in woes.
For here though death doth end their misery,
I'll there begin their endless tragedy.
Exeunt.