30 I will to ease the grief that I sustain,
Take truce with sorrow while I read on this.
‘My lord, I writ as mine extremes required,
That you would labour my delivery:
If you neglect, my life is desperate,
And in my death I shall reveal the truth.
You know my lord I slew him for your sake,
And was confederate with the prince and you,
Won by rewards and hopeful promises,
I holp to murder Don Horatio too.’
40 Holp he to murder mine Horatio?
And actors in th’accursed tragedy,
Wast thou Lorenzo, Balthazar, and thou,
Of whom my son, my son deserved so well?
What have I heard, what have mine eyes beheld?
O sacred heavens, may it come to pass,
That such a monstrous and detested deed,
So closely smothered and so long concealed,
Shall thus by this be venged or revealed!
Now see I what I durst not then suspect,
50 That Bel-imperia’s letter was not feigned,
Nor feigned she, though falsely they have wronged
Both her, myself, Horatio, and themselves.
Now may I make compare ’twixt hers and this,
Of every accident; I ne’er could find
Till now, and now I feelingly perceive,
They did what heaven unpunished would not leave.
O false Lorenzo, are these thy flattering looks?
Is this the honour that thou didst my son?
And Balthazar, bane to thy soul and me,
60 Was this the ransom he reserved thee for?
Woe to the cause of these constrained wars,
Woe to thy baseness and captivity,
Woe to thy birth, thy body and thy soul,
Thy cursed father, and thy conquered self.
And banned with bitter execrations be
The day and place where he did pity thee.
But wherefore waste I mine unfruitful words
When naught but blood will satisfy my woes?
I will go plain me to my lord the king,
70 And cry aloud for justice through the court.
Wearing the flints with these my withered feet,
And either purchase justice by entreats,
Or tire them all with my revenging threats. Exit.
[Act 3
Scene 8]
Enter Isabella and her maid.
Isabella. So that you say this herb will purge the eye
And this the head: ah, but none of them will purge the heart:
No, there’s no medicine left for my disease,
Nor any physic to recure the dead.
She runs lunatic.
Horatio, O where’s Horatio?
Maid. Good madam, affright not thus yourself,
With outrage for your son Horatio.
He sleeps in quiet in the Elysian fields.
Isabella. Why, did I not give you gowns and goodly things,
10 Bought you a whistle and a whipstalk too,
To be revenged on their villainies?
Maid. Madam, these humours do torment my soul.
Isabella. My soul, poor soul thou talks of things
Thou know’st not what: my soul hath silver wings,
That mounts me up into the highest heavens,
To heaven, ay, there sits my Horatio,
Backed with a troop of fiery cherubins,
Dancing about his newly-healed wounds
Singing sweet hymns and chanting heavenly notes,
20 Rare harmony to greet his innocence,
That died, ay died a mirror in our days.
But say, where shall I find the men, the murderers,
That slew Horatio, whither shall I run
To find them out, that murdered my son? Exeunt.
[Act 3
Scene 9]
Bel-imperia at a window.
Bel-imperia. What means this outrage that is offered me?
Why am I thus sequestered from the court?
No notice? shall I not know the cause
Of this my secret and suspicious ills?
Accursed brother, unkind murderer,
Why bends thou thus thy mind to martyr me?
Hieronimo, why writ I of thy wrongs?
Or why art thou so slack in thy revenge?
Andrea, O Andrea, that thou sawest,
10 Me for thy friend Horatio handled thus.
And him for me thus causeless murdered.
Well, force perforce, I must constrain myself,
To patience, and apply me to the time,
Till heaven, as I have hoped, shall set me free.
Enter Christophil.
Christophil. Come Madam Bel-imperia, this may not be.
Exeunt.
[Act 3
Scene 10]
Enter Lorenzo, Balthazar and the Page.
Lorenzo. Boy, talk no further, thus far things go well,
Thou art assured that thou sawest him dead?
Page. Or else my lord I live not.
Lorenzo. That’s enough.
As for his resolution to his end,
Leave that to him with whom he sojourns now.
Here, take my ring and give it Christophil,
And bid him let my sister be enlarged,
And bring her hither straight. Exit Page.
10 This that I did was for a policy,
To smooth and keep the murder secret,
Which as a nine-days’ wonder being o’erblown
My gentle sister will I now enlarge.
Balthazar. And time, Lorenzo, for my lord the duke,
You heard, inquired for her yesternight.
Lorenzo. Why, and my lord, I hope you heard me say,
Sufficient reason, why she kept away.
But that’s all one: my lord, you love her?
Balthazar. Ay.
20 Lorenzo. Then in your love beware, deal cunningly,
Salve all suspicions, only soothe me up,
And if she hap to stand on terms with us,
As for her sweetheart, and concealment so,
Jest with her gently: under feigned jest
Are things concealed, that else would breed unrest.
But here she comes.
Enter Bel-imperia.
Now, sister –
Bel-imperia. Sister, no, thou art no brother, but an enemy.
Else wouldst thou not have used thy sister so.
First, to affright me with thy weapons drawn,
30 And with extremes abuse my company;
And then to hurry me like whirlwind’s rage,
Amidst a crew of thy confederates,
And clap me up where none might come at me,
Nor I at any, to reveal my wrongs.
What madding fury did possess thy wits?
Or wherein is’t that I offended thee?
Lorenzo. Advise you better Bel-imperia,
For I have done you no disparagement ;
Unless, by more discretion than deserved,
40 I sought to save your honour and mine own.
Bel-imperia. Mine honour, why Lorenzo, wherein is’t
That I neglect my reputation so,
As you, or any need to rescue it?
Lorenzo. His highness and my father were resolved,
To come confer with old Hieronimo,
Concerning certain matters of estate,
That by the viceroy was determined.
Bel-imperia. And wherein was mine honour touched in that?
Balthazar. Have patience, Bel-imperia: hear the rest.
50 Lorenzo. Me next in sight as messenger they sent.
To give him notice that they were so nigh:
Now when I came, consorted with the prince,
And, unexpected in an arbour there,
Found Bel-imperia with Horatio.
Bel-imperia. How then?
Loren
zo. Why, then remembering that old disgrace,
Which you for Don Andrea hath endured,
And now, were likely longer to sustain,
By being found so meanly accompanied:
60 Thought rather, for I knew no readier mean,
To thrust Horatio forth my father’s way.
Balthazar. And carry you obscurely somewhere else,
Lest that his highness should have found you there.
Bel-imperia. Even so my lord, and you are witness,
That this is true which he entreateth of?
You, gentle brother, forged this for my sake,
And you, my lord, were made his instrument:
A work of worth, worthy the noting too!
But what’s the cause that you concealed me since?
70 Lorenzo. Your melancholy, sister, since the news
Of your first favourite Don Andrea’s death,
My father’s old wrath hath exasperate.
Balthazar. And better was’t for you, being in disgrace,
To absent yourself and give his fury place.
Bel-imperia. But why had I no notice of his ire?
Lorenzo. That were to add more fuel to your fire,
Who burnt like Etna for Andrea’s loss.
Bel-imperia. Hath not my father then inquired for me?
Lorenzo. Sister, he hath, and thus excused I thee.
He whispereth in her ear.
80 But Bel-imperia, see the gentle prince:
Look on thy love, behold young Balthazar,
Whose passions by thy presence are increased,
And in whose melancholy thou mayest see,
Thy hate, his love; thy flight, his following thee.
Bel-imperia. Brother, you are become an orator –
I know not, I, by what experience –
Too politic for me, past all compare
Since last I saw you: but content yourself,
The prince is meditating higher things.
90 Balthazar. ’Tis of thy beauty that conquers kings.
Of those thy tresses Ariadne’s twines.
Wherewith my liberty thou has surprised.
Of that thine ivory front, my sorrows’ map,
Wherein I see no haven to rest my hope.
Bel-imperia. To love and fear and both at once, my lord,
In my conceit are things of more import
Than women’s wits are to be busied with.
Balthazar. ’Tis I that love.
Bel-imperia. Whom?
100 Balthazar. Bel-imperia.
Bel-imperia. But I that fear.
Balthazar. Whom?
Bel-imperia. Bel-imperia.
Lorenzo. Fear yourself?
Bel-imperia. Ay, brother.
Lorenzo. How?
Bel-imperia. As those, that what they love are loath and fear to lose.
Balthazar. Then fair, let Balthazar your keeper be.
Bel-imperia. No, Balthazar doth fear as well as we,
110 Et tremulo metui pavidum junxere timorem
Et vanum stolidae proditionis opus. Exit.
Lorenzo. Nay, and you argue things so cunningly,
We’ll go continue this discourse at court.
Balthazar. Lead by the lodestar of her heavenly looks,
Wends poor oppressed Balthazar,
As o’er the mountains walks the wanderer,
Incertain to effect his pilgrimage. Exeunt.
[Act 3
Scene 11]
Enter two Portingales, and Hieronimo meets them.
1 [Portingale]. By your leave sir.
Hieronimo. Good leave have you, nay, I pray you go.
For I’ll leave you, if you can leave me, so.
2 [Portingale]. Pray you which is the next way to my lord the duke’s?
Hieronimo. The next way from me.
1 [Portingale]. To his house we mean.
Hieronimo. O hard by, ’tis yon house you see.
2 [Portingale]. You could not tell us if his son were there?
Hieronimo. Who, my lord Lorenzo?
10 1 [Portingale]. Ay sir.
He goeth in at one door and comes out at another.
Hieronimo. Oh forbear, for other talk for us far fitter were.
But if you be importunate to know
The way to him, and where to find him out,
Then list to me, and I’ll resolve your doubt.
There is a path upon your left-hand side,
That leadeth from a guilty conscience,
Unto a forest of distrust and fear.
A darksome place, and dangerous to pass:
There shall you meet with melancholy thoughts,
20 Whose baleful humours if you but uphold,
It will conduct you to despair and death;
Whose rocky cliffs, when you have once beheld,
Within a hugy dale of lasting night,
That, kindled with the world’s iniquities,
Doth cast up filthy and detested fumes,
Not far from thence, where murderers have built
A habitation for their cursed souls.
There in a brazen cauldron fixed by Jove,
In his fell wrath upon a sulphur flame,
30 Yourselves shall find Lorenzo bathing him
In boiling lead and blood of innocents.
1 [Portingale]. Ha, ha, ha!
Hieronimo. Ha, ha, ha! why, ha, ha, ha! Farewell, good ha, ha, ha! Exit.
2 [Portingale]. Doubtless this man is passing lunatic,
Or imperfection of his age doth make him dote.
Come, let’s away to seek my lord the duke.
[Act 3
Scene 12]
Enter Hieronimo with a poniard in one hand and a rope in the other.
Hieronimo. Now sir, perhaps I come and see the king.
The king sees me, and fain would hear my suit:
Why is this not a strange and seld-seen thing
That standers-by with toys should strike me mute?
Go to, I see their shifts, and say no more.
Hieronimo, ’tis time for thee to trudge.
Down by the dale that flows with purple gore,
Standeth a fiery tower; there sits a judge,
Upon a seat of steel and molten brass;
10 And ’twixt his teeth he holds a fire-brand,
That leads unto the lake where hell doth stand.
Away Hieronimo, to him be gone:
He’ll do thee justice for Horatio’s death.
Turn down this path, thou shalt be with him straight,
Or this, and even thou need’st not take thy breath.
This way or that way? soft and fair, not so:
For if I hang or kill myself, let’s know
Who will revenge Horatio’s murder then?
No, no, fie, no. Pardon me: I’ll none of that.
He flings away the dagger and halter.
20 This way I’ll take, and this way comes the king.
He takes them up again.
And here I’ll have a fling and him that’s flat.
And Balthazar, I’ll be with thee to bring,
And thee, lorenzo. Here’s the king, nay, stay,
And here, ay here, there goes the hare away.
Enter King, Ambassador, Castile and lorenzo.
King. Now show, ambassador, what our viceroy sayeth,
Hath he received the articles we sent?
Hieronimo. Justice, O justice to Hieronimo!
Lorenzo. Back, see’st thou not the king is busy?
Hieronimo. O is he so?
30 King. Who is he that interrupts our business?
Hieronimo. Not I. Hieronimo, beware, go by, go by.
Ambassador. Renowned king, he hath received and read
Thy kingly proffers, and thy promised league,
And as a man extremely overjoyed,
To hear his son so princely entertained,
Whose death he had so solemnly bewailed,
This for thy
further satisfaction
And kingly love, he kindly lets thee know:
First, for the marriage of his princely son,
40 With Bel-imperia thy beloved niece,
The news are more delightful to his soul,
Than myrrh or incense to the offended heavens.
In person therefore will he come himself,
To see the marriage rites solemnized,
And in the presence of the court of Spain,
To knit a sure inextricable band,
Of kingly love and everlasting league,
Betwixt the crowns of Spain and Portingale.
There will he give his crown to Balthazar,
50 And make a queen of Bel-imperia.
King. Brother, how like you this our viceroy’s love?
Castile. No doubt my lord, it is an argument
Of honourable care to keep his friend,
And wondrous zeal to Balthazar his son:
Nor am I least indebted to his grace,
That bends his liking to my daughter thus.
Ambassador. Now last, dread lord, here hath his highness sent,
Although he send not that his son return,
His ransom due to Don Horatio.
60 Hieronimo. Horatio, who calls Horatio?
King. And well remembered, thank his majesty.
Here, see it given to Horatio.
Hieronimo. Justice, O justice, justice, gentle king!
King. Who is that, Hieronimo?
Hieronimo. Justice, O justice, O my son, my son,
My son whom naught can ransom or redeem!
Lorenzo. Hieronimo, you are not well-advised.
Hieronimo. Away lorenzo, hinder me no more,
For thou hast made me bankrupt of my bliss:
70 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 to th’Elysian plains,
And bring my son to show his deadly wounds.
Stand from about me, I’ll make a pick-axe of my poniard.
And here surrender up my marshalship:
For I’ll go marshal 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?
Hieronimo. Nay soft and fair, you shall not need to strive,
80 Needs must he go that the devils drive. Exit.
King. What accident hath happed Hieronimo?
I have not seen him to demean him so.
Lorenzo. My gracious lord, he is with extreme pride,
Conceived of young Horatio his son,
And, covetous of having to himself
The ransom of the young prince Balthazar,
Distract, and in a manner lunatic.
Five Revenge Tragedies: The Spanish Tragedy, Hamlet, Antonio's Revenge, The Tragedy of Hoffman, The Revenger's Tragedy (Penguin Classics) Page 8