Dollimore, Jonathan, Radical Tragedy: Religion, Ideology and Power in the Drama of Shakespeare and his Contemporaries (1984), chapter 9.
McMillin, Scott, ‘Acting and Violence: The Revenger’s Tragedy and Its Departures from Hamlet’, Studies in English Literature 24:2 (1984), 275–91.
Mullaney, Steven, ‘Mourning and Misogyny: Hamlet, The Revenger’s Tragedy, and the Final Progress of Elizabeth I, 1600–1607’, Shakespeare Quarterly 45 (1994), 139–62.
Note on the Texts
This is intended as a reader’s, rather than a scholar’s, edition. The plays are printed according to my estimate of their chronological order. While they have been newly edited from the earliest printed texts, I have tried to strike a balance between readability and excessive intervention. Spelling has been silently modernized, punctuation only lightly changed, and the few substantive emendations are all indicated in the notes, where ‘Q’ signals a reading from the first text. Stage directions in square brackets are my additions: I have kept these to a minimum to preserve the flexibility of performance choices. For ease of understanding I have added ‘[Aside]’, even though it rarely appears in early modern printed plays and can seem to superimpose a normative, realist stage architecture on to the different spatial imagination of Elizabethan and Jacobean theatres. Also, I have added a list of characters, now conventional but rarely provided in printed plays from this period. I have not undertaken any relineation to regularize the appearance of the texts.
Notes acknowledge at least some of my significant and grateful debts to the plays’ previous editors, as listed below. I have made grateful use of Emily Wilson’s excellent translations in her Seneca: Six Tragedies (2010). Translations are from Latin, unless the language is otherwise specified.
The Spanish Tragedy
Edited from the earliest quarto, which is undated but generally assumed, following the entry in the Stationers’ Register, to be 1592. Previous editions by Frederick S. Boas, The Works of Thomas Kyd (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1955), Philip Edwards, The Spanish Tragedy (Manchester: Revels Plays/Manchester University Press, 1959), and J. R. Mulryne, The Spanish Tragedy (London: New Mermaids/Benn, 1970; 2nd edn, 1989).
Hamlet (1603)
Edited from the 1603 quarto in the British Library. Previous editions by Graham Holderness and Bryan Loughrey, The Tragicall Historie of Hamlet Prince of Denmarke (Hemel Hempstead: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1992), Kathleen O. Irace, The First Quarto of Hamlet (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), and Ann Thompson and Neil Taylor, Hamlet, 2 vols. (London: Arden Shakespeare, 2006).
Antonio’s Revenge
Edited from the 1602 quarto. Previous editions by G. K. Hunter, Antonio’s Revenge (Lincoln, Nebraska: Regents Renaissance Drama, 1965), and W. Reavley Gair, Antonio’s Revenge (Manchester: Revels Plays/Manchester University Press, 1978).
The Tragedy of Hoffman
Edited from the 1631 quarto. Previous editions by Harold Jenkins, The Tragedy of Hoffman (London: Malone Society Reprints, 1951), and John Jowett, The Tragedy of Hoffman (Nottingham: Nottingham Drama Texts, 1983).
The Revenger’s Tragedy
Edited from the uncorrected and corrected states of the 1607/8 quarto. Previous editions by Brian Gibbons, The Revenger’s Tragedy (London: Ernest Benn, 1967; 2nd edn, 1989), R. A. Foakes, The Revenger’s Tragedy (Manchester: Revels Plays/Manchester University Press, 1980), and MacDonald P. Jackson for Thomas Middleton: The Collected Works, ed. Gary Taylor and John Lavagnino (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2007).
THOMAS KYD
The Spanish Tragedy
List of Characters
GHOST of Don Andrea
REVENGE
KING of Spain
Ciprian duke of CASTILE, his brother
LORENZO son of Ciprian
CHRISTOPHIL Lorenzo’s servant
BEL-IMPERIA daughter of Ciprian
PEDRINGANO her servant
GENERAL
VICEROY of Portugal
BALTHAZAR his son
SERBERINE Balthazar’s servant
ALEXANDRO
VILLUPPO
AMBASSADOR of Portugal
HIERONIMO knight marshal of Spain
ISABELLA his wife
HORATIO his son
PAGE
3 WATCHMEN
MAID
DEPUTY
HANGMAN
2 PORTINGALES
BAZULTO an old man
Citizens, Attendants, Halberdiers, Noblemen, Servant
Act 1
Scene 1
Enter the Ghost of Andrea, and with him Revenge.
Ghost. When this eternal substance of my soul
Did live imprisoned in my wanton flesh,
Each in their function serving other’s need,
I was a courtier in the Spanish court.
My name was Don Andrea, my descent,
Though not ignoble, yet inferior far
To gracious fortunes of my tender youth:
For there in prime and pride of all my years,
By duteous service and deserving love,
10 In secret I possessed a worthy dame,
Which hight sweet Bel-imperia by name.
But in the harvest of my summer joys,
Death’s winter nipped the blossoms of my bliss,
Forcing divorce betwixt my love and me.
For in the late conflict with Portingale,
My valour drew me into danger’s mouth.
Till life to death made passage through my wounds.
When I was slain, my soul descended straight
To pass the flowing stream of Acheron:
20 But churlish Charon, only boatman there,
Said that my rites of burial not performed,
I might not sit among his passengers.
Ere Sol had slept three nights on Thetis’ lap,
And slaked his smoking chariot in her flood:
By Don Horatio our knight marshal’s son,
My funerals and obsequies were done.
Then was the ferryman of hell content
To pass me over to the slimy strond,
That leads to fell Avernus’ ugly waves:
30 There pleasing Cerberus with honied speech,
I passed the perils of the foremost porch,
Not far from hence amidst ten thousand souls,
Sat Minos, Aeacus and Rhadamanth,
To whom no sooner ’gan I make approach,
To crave a passport for my wandering ghost,
But Minos’ engraven leaves of lottery,
Drew forth the manner of my life and death.
‘This knight,’ quoth he, ‘both lived and died in love:
And for his love tried fortune of the wars.
40 And by wars’ fortune lost both love and life.’
‘Why then,’ said Aeacus, ‘convey him hence,
To walk with lovers in our fields of love,
And spend the course of everlasting time,
Under green myrtle trees and cypress shades.’
‘No, no,’ said Rhadamanth, ‘it were not well,
With loving souls to place a martialist:
He died in war, and must to martial fields
Where wounded Hector lives in lasting pain,
And Achilles’ Myrmidons do scour the plain.’
50 Then Minos, mildest censor of the three,
Made this device to end the difference.
‘Send him,’ quoth he, ‘to our infernal king
To doom him as best seems his majesty.’
To this effect my passport straight was drawn.
In keeping on my way to Pluto’s court,
Through dreadful shades of ever-glooming night,
I saw more sights than thousand tongues can tell,
Or pens can write, or mortal hearts can think.
Three ways there were: that on the right-hand side
60 Was ready way unto the foresaid fields
Where lovers live and bloody martialists,
<
br /> But either sort contained within his bounds.
The left-hand path declining fearfully,
Was ready downfall to the deepest hell,
Where bloody Furies shake their whips of steel,
And poor Ixion turns an endless wheel;
Where usurers are choked with melting gold,
And wantons are embraced with ugly snakes,
And murderers groan with never-killing wounds,
70 And perjured wights scalded in boiling lead,
And all foul sins with torments overwhelmed.
’Twixt these two ways, I trod the middle path,
Which brought me to the fair Elysian green,
In midst whereof there stands a stately tower,
The walls of brass, the gates of adamant.
Here finding Pluto with his Proserpine,
I showed my passport humbled on my knee;
Whereat fair Proserpine began to smile,
And begged that only she might give my doom.
80 Pluto was pleased and sealed it with a kiss.
Forthwith, Revenge, she rounded thee in th’ear,
And bade thee lead me through the gates of horn,
Where bad dreams have passage in the silent night.
No sooner had she spoke but we were here,
I wot not how, in twinkling of an eye.
Revenge. Then know, Andrea, that thou art arrived
Where thou shalt see the author of thy death,
Don Balthazar, the prince of Portingale,
Deprived of life by Bel-imperia:
90 Here sit we down to see the mystery,
And serve for Chorus in this tragedy.
[Act 1
Scene 2]
Enter Spanish King, General, Castile, Hieronimo.
King. Now say, lord general, how fares our camp?
General. All well, my sovereign liege, except some few
That are deceased by fortune of the war.
King. But what portends thy cheerful countenance,
And posting to our presence thus in haste?
Speak man, hath fortune given us victory?
General. Victory, my liege, and that with little loss.
King. Our Portingales will pay us tribute then.
General. Tribute and wonted homage therewithal.
10 King. Then blest be heaven, and guider of the heavens,
From whose fair influence such justice flows.
Castile. O multum dilecte Deo, tibi militat aether,
Et conjuratae curvato poplite gentes
Succumbunt: recti soror est victoria juris.
King. Thanks to my loving brother of Castile.
But general, unfold in brief discourse
Your form of battle and your war’s success,
That adding all the pleasure of thy news
Unto the height of former happiness,
20 With deeper wage and greater dignity,
We may reward thy blissful chivalry.
General. Where Spain and Portingale do jointly knit
Their frontiers, leaning on each other’s bound,
There met our armies in their proud array:
Both furnished well, both full of hope and fear,
Both menacing alive with daring shows,
Both vaunting sundry colours of device,
Both cheerly sounding trumpets, drums and fifes,
Both raising dreadful clamours to the sky,
30 That valleys, hills and rivers made rebound,
And heaven itself was frighted with the sound.
Our battles both were pitched in squadron form,
Each corner strongly fenced with wings of shot,
But ere we joined and came to push of pike,
I brought a squadron of our readiest shot
From out our rearward to begin the fight.
They brought another wing to encounter us:
Meanwhile our ordnance played on either side,
And captains strove to have their valours tried.
40 Don Pedro, their chief horsemen’s colonel
Did with his cornet bravely make attempt,
To break the order of our battle ranks.
But Don Rogero, worthy man of war
Marched forth against him with our musketeers,
And stopped the malice of his fell approach.
While they maintain hot skirmish to and fro,
Both battles join and fall to handy blows,
Their violent shot resembling th’ocean’s rage,
When roaring loud and with a swelling tide,
50 It beats upon the rampiers of huge rocks,
And gapes to swallow neighbour-bounding lands.
Now while Bellona rageth here and there,
Thick storms of bullets rain like winter’s hail,
And shivered lances dark the troubled air.
Pede pes and cuspide cuspis,
Arma sonant armis, vir petiturque viro.
On every side drop captains to the ground,
And soldiers, some ill-maimed, some slain outright:
Here falls a body scindered from his head;
60 There legs and arms lie bleeding on the grass,
Mingled with weapons and unbowelled steeds,
That scattering overspread the purple plain.
In all this turmoil three long hours and more,
The victory to neither part inclined,
Till Don Andrea with his brave lanciers,
In their main battle made so great a breach,
That half dismayed, the multitude retired:
But Balthazar the Portingales’ young prince,
Brought rescue and encouraged them to stay.
70 Here-hence the fight was eagerly renewed,
And in that conflict was Andrea slain:
Brave man-at-arms, but weak to Balthazar.
Yet while the prince insulting over him
Breathed out proud vaunts, sounding to our reproach,
Friendship and hardy valour joined in one,
Pricked forth Horatio our knight marshal’s son,
To challenge that prince in single fight.
Not long between these twain the fight endured,
But straight the prince was beaten from his horse,
80 And forced to yield him prisoner to his foe.
When he was taken, all the rest they fled,
And our carbines pursued them to the death,
Till Phoebus waning to the western deep,
Our trumpeters were charged to sound retreat.
King. Thanks, good lord general, for these good news.
And for some argument of more to come,
Take this, and wear it for thy sovereign’s sake.
Give him his chain.
But tell me now, hast thou confirmed a peace?
General. No peace, my liege, but peace conditional,
90 That if with homage tribute be well paid.
The fury of your forces will be stayed.
And to this peace their viceroy hath subscribed.
Give the King a paper.
And made a solemn vow that during life,
His tribute shall be truly paid to Spain.
King. These words, these deeds, become thy person well.
But now knight marshal, frolic with thy king,
For ’tis thy son that wins this battle’s prize.
Hieronimo. long may he live to serve my sovereign liege,
And soon decay unless he serve my liege.
A tucket afar off.
100 King. Not thou nor he shall die without reward.100
What means this warning of this trumpet’s sound?
General. This tells me that your grace’s men of war,
Such as war’s fortune hath reserved from death,
Come marching on towards your royal seat,
To show themselves before your majesty,
For so I gave in charge at my depart.
Whereby by demonstration shall appear,<
br />
That all (except three hundred or few more)
Are safe returned, and by their foes enriched.
The army enters, Balthazar, between lorenzo and Horatio, captive.
110 King. A gladsome sight, I long to see them here.
They enter and pass by.
Was that the warlike prince of Portingale,
That by our nephew was in triumph led?
General. It was, my liege, the prince of Portingale.
King. But what was he that on the other side,
Held him by th’arm as partner of the prize?
Hieronimo. That was my son, my gracious sovereign,
Of whom, though from his tender infancy
My loving thoughts did never hope but well,
He never pleased his father’s eyes till now,
120 Nor filled my heart with overcloying joys.
King. Go let them march once more about these walls.
That staying them we may confer and talk
With our brave prisoner and his double guard.
Hieronimo, it greatly pleaseth us,
That in our victory thou have a share,
By virtue of thy worthy son’s exploit.
Enter [the army] again.
Bring hither the young prince of Portingale,
The rest march on, but ere they be dismissed,
We will bestow on every soldier two ducats,
130 And on every leader ten, that they may know
Our largess welcomes them.
Exeunt [army].
Welcome, Don Balthazar, welcome nephew,
And thou, Horatio, thou art welcome too.
Young prince, though thy father’s hard misdeeds
In keeping back the tribute that he owes
Deserve but evil measure at our hands,
Yet shalt thou know that Spain is honourable.
Balthazar. The trespass that my father made in peace,
Is now controlled by fortune of the wars:
140 And cards once dealt, it boots not ask why so.
His men are slain, a weakening to his realm,
His colours seized, a blot unto his name,
His son distressed, a corsive to his heart,
These punishments may clear his late offence.
King. Ay, Balthazar, if he observe this truce
Our peace will grow the stronger for these wars:
Meanwhile live thou, though not in liberty,
Yet free from bearing any servile yoke.
For in our hearing thy deserts were great,
150 And in our sight thyself art gracious.
Five Revenge Tragedies: The Spanish Tragedy, Hamlet, Antonio's Revenge, The Tragedy of Hoffman, The Revenger's Tragedy (Penguin Classics) Page 3