Hieronimo. With me sir? Why my lord, I thought you had done.
Lorenzo. No, would he had.
Castile. Hieronimo, I hear you find yourself aggrieved at my son,
Because you have not access unto the king,
And say ’tis he that intercepts your suits.
Hieronimo. Why, is not this a miserable thing my lord?
140 Castile. Hieronimo, I hope you have no cause,
And would be loath that one of your deserts,
Should once have reason to suspect my son,
Considering how I think of you myself.
Hieronimo. Your son lorenzo, whom, my noble lord?
The hope of Spain, mine honourable friend?
Grant me the combat of them, if they dare.
Draws out his sword.
I’ll meet him face to face to tell me so.
These be the scandalous reports of such
As loves not me, and hate my lord too much.
150 Should I suspect lorenzo would prevent
Or cross my suit, that loved my son so well,
My lord, I am ashamed it should be said.
Lorenzo. Hieronimo, I never gave you cause.
Hieronimo. My good lord, I know you did not.
Castile. Then there pause, and for the satisfaction of the world,
Hieronimo, frequent my homely house,
The Duke of Castile Ciprian’s ancient seat,
And when thou wilt, use me, my son, and it.
But, here before Prince Balthazar and me,
160 Embrace each other and be perfect friends.
Hieronimo. Ay marry, my lord, and shall.
Friends, quoth he, see, I’ll be friends with you all.
Specially with you, my lovely lord,
For diverse causes is fit for us,
That we be friends, the world is suspicious,
And men may think what we imagine not.
Balthazar. Why this is friendly done, Hieronimo.
Lorenzo. And that I hope: old grudges are forgot.
Hieronimo. What else, it were a shame it should not be so.
170 Castile. Come on, Hieronimo, at my request,
Let us entreat your company today.
Exeunt.
Hieronimo. Your lordship’s to command,
Pha! keep your way.
Chi mi fa piu carezze che non suole
Tradito mi ha, o tradirmi vuole. Exit.
[Act 3
Scene 15]
Ghost and Revenge [sleeping].
Ghost. Awake, Erichtho, Cerberus awake,
Solicit Pluto, gentle Proserpine;
To combat, Acheron and Erebus in hell,
For nearby Styx and Phlegethon:
Nor ferried Charon to the fiery lakes
Such fearful sights, as poor Andrea see?
Revenge, awake!
Revenge. Awake, for why?
Ghost. Awake Revenge, for thou art ill-advised
10 To sleep away what thou art warned to watch.
Revenge. Content thyself and do not trouble me.
Ghost. Awake Revenge, if love, as love hath had,
Have yet the power or prevalence in hell,
Hieronimo with lorenzo is joined in league,
And intercepts our passage to revenge:
Awake Revenge, or we are woebegone.
Revenge. Thus worldlings ground, what they have dreamed, upon,
Content thyself Andrea, though I sleep,
Yet is my mood soliciting their souls.
20 Sufficeth thee that poor Hieronimo,
Cannot forget his son Horatio?
Nor dies Revenge although he sleep awhile,
For in unquiet, quietness is feigned:
And slumbering is a common worldly wile,
Behold, Andrea, for an instance how
Revenge hath slept, and then imagine thou,
What ’tis to be subject to destiny.
Enter a dumbshow.
Ghost. Awake Revenge, reveal this mystery.
Revenge. The two first the nuptial torches bear,
30 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 meaning’s 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 4
Scene 1
Enter Bel-imperia and Hieronimo.
Bel-imperia. Is this the love thou bear’st Horatio?
Is this the kindness that thou counterfeits?
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 can’st thou show thyself?
10 With what dishonour, and the hate of men,
From this 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 aftertimes,
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
20 Have tendered so, thus careless should be lost,
Myself a stranger in respect of thee,
So loved his life, as still I wish their deaths;
Nor shall his death be unrevenged by me.
Although I bear it out for fashion’s sake.
For here I swear in sight of heaven and earth,
Should’st thou neglect the love thou should’st retain,
And give it over and devise no more,
Myself should send their hateful souls to hell,
That wrought his downfall with extremest death.
30 Hieronimo. But may it be that Bel-imperia
Vows such revenge as she hath deigned to say:
Why then I see that heaven applies our drift,
And all the saints do sit soliciting
For vengeance on those cursed murderers,
Madam ’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;
40 Nor think, I thoughtless think upon a mean,
To let his death be unrevenged 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.
Bel-imperia. Hieronimo, I will consent, conceal,
And aught that may effect for thine avail,
Join with thee to revenge Horatio’s death.
Hieronimo. On then, whatsoever I devise,
50 Let me entreat you grace my practices.
For why, the plot’s already in mine head,
Here they are.
Enter Balthazar and lorenzo.
Balthazar. How now, Hieronimo? what courting Bel-imperia?
Hieronimo. Ay, my lord, such courting as I promise you,
She hath my heart, but you, my lord, have hers.
Lorenzo. But now Hieronimo, or never we are to entreat your help.
Hieronimo. My help, why my good lords, assure yourselves of
me, for you have given me cause, ay, by
my faith have you.
Balthazar. It pleased you at the entertainment of the ambassador,
60 To grace the king so much as with a show.
Now were your study so well furnished,
As for the passing of the first night’s sport,
To entertain my father with the like,
Or any suchlike pleasing motion,
Assure yourself, it would content them well.
Hieronimo. Is this all?
Balthazar. Ay, this is all.
Hieronimo. Why then I’ll fit you, say no more.
When I was young, I gave my mind
70 And ’plied myself to fruitless poetry,
Which though it profit the professor naught,
Yet is it passing pleasing to the world.
Lorenzo. And how for that?
Hieronimo. Marry, my good lord, thus.
And yet methinks you are too quick with us.
When in Toledo there I studied,
It was my chance to write a tragedy:
See here, my lords.
He shows them a book.
Which long forgot, I found this other day,
80 Now: would your lordships favour me so much,
As but to grace me with your acting it?
I mean each one of you to play a part,
Assure you it will prove most passing strange,
And wondrous plausible to that assembly.
Balthazar. What would you have us play a tragedy?
Hieronimo. Why Nero thought it no disparagement,
And kings and emperors have ta’en delight,
To make experience of their wits in plays.
Lorenzo. Nay, be not angry, good Hieronimo,
90 The prince but asked a question.
Balthazar. In faith Hieronimo, and you be in earnest,
I’ll make one.
Lorenzo. And I another.
Hieronimo. Now my good lord, could you entreat
Your sister Bel-imperia to make one,
For what’s a play without a woman in it?
Bel-imperia. Little entreaty shall serve me, Hieronimo,
For I must needs be employed in your play.
Hieronimo. Why this is well. I tell you, lordings,
100 It was determined to have been acted
By gentlemen and scholars too,
Such as could tell what to speak.
Balthazar. And now it shall be played by princes and courtiers
Such as can tell how to speak,
If, as it is our country manner,
You will but let us know the argument.
Hieronimo. That shall I roundly: the chronicles of Spain
Record this written of a knight of Rhodes,
He was betrothed and wedded at the length
110 To one Perseda an Italian dame,
Whose beauty ravished all that her beheld,
Especially the soul of Soliman,
Who at the marriage was the chiefest guest.
By sundry means sought Soliman to win
Perseda’s love, and could not gain the same.
Then ’gan he break his passions to a friend,
One of his bashaws whom he held full dear;
Her had this bashaw long solicited,
And saw she was not otherwise to be won
120 But by her husband’s death this knight of Rhodes,
Whom presently by treachery he slew.
She, stirred with an exceeding hate therefore,
As cause of this slew Soliman,
And to escape the bashaw’s tyranny,
Did stab herself, and this the tragedy.
Lorenzo. O excellent!
Bel-imperia. But say, Hieronimo, what then became of him
That was the bashaw?
Hieronimo. Marry thus, moved with remorse of his misdeeds
130 Ran to a mountain-top and hung himself.
Balthazar. But which of us is to perform that part?
Hieronimo. O that will I, my lords, make no doubt of it,
I’ll play the murderer, I warrant you,
For I already have conceited that.
Balthazar. And what shall I?
Hieronimo. Great Soliman the Turkish emperor.
Lorenzo. And I?
Hieronimo. Erastus, the knight of Rhodes.
Bel-imperia. And I?
140 Hieronimo. Perseda, chaste and resolute.
And here, my lords, are several abstracts drawn,
For each of you to note your parts,
And act it as occasion’s offered you.
You must provide a Turkish cap,
A black mustachio and a fauchion.
Gives a paper to Balthazar.
You with a cross like to a knight of Rhodes.
Gives another to Lorenzo.
And madam, you must attire yourself,
He giveth Bel-imperia another.
Like Phoebe, Flora, or the huntress,
Which to your discretion shall seem best.
150 And as for me, my lords, I’ll look to one,
And with the ransom that the viceroy sent
So furnish and perform this tragedy,
As all the world shall say Hieronimo
Was liberal in gracing of it so.
Balthazar. Hieronimo, methinks a comedy were better.
Hieronimo. A comedy, fie, comedies are fit for common wits!
But to present a kingly troupe withal,
Give me a stately written tragedy,
Tragedia cothurnata, fitting kings,
160 Containing matter, and not common things.
My lords, all this must be performed
As fitting for the first night’s revelling.
The Italian tragedians were so sharp of wit,
That in one hour’s meditation,
They would perform anything in action.
Lorenzo. And well it may, for I have seen the like
In Paris, ’mongst the French tragedians.
Hieronimo. In Paris? mass and well remembered,
There’s one thing more that rests for us to do.
170 Balthazar. What’s that, Hieronimo? forget not anything.
Hieronimo. Each one of us must act his part
In unknown languages,
That it may breed the more variety.
As you my lord in Latin, I in Greek,
You in Italian, and for because I know
That Bel-imperia hath practised the French
In courtly French shall all her phrases be.
Bel-imperia. You mean to try my cunning then, Hieronimo.
Balthazar. But this will be a mere confusion,
180 And hardly shall we all be understood.
Hieronimo. It must be so, for the conclusion
Shall prove the invention, and all was good:
And I myself in an oration,
That I will have there behind a curtain,
And with a strange and wondrous show besides,
Assure yourself shall make the matter known.
And all shall be concluded in one scene,
For there’s no pleasure ta’en in tediousness.
Balthazar. How like you this?
190 Lorenzo. Why thus, my lord, we must resolve,
To soothe his humours up.
Balthazar. On then, Hieronimo, farewell till soon.
Hieronimo. You’ll ply this gear.
Lorenzo. I warrant you.
Exeunt all but Hieronimo.
Hieronimo. Why so, now shall I see the fall of Babylon,
Wrought by the heavens in this confusion.
And if the world like not this tragedy,
Hard is the hap of old Hieronimo. Exit.
[Act 4
Scene 2]
Enter Isabella with a weapon.
Isabella. Tell me no more, O monstrous homicides!
Since neither piety nor pity moves
The king to justice or compassion,
I will revenge myself upon this place,
> Where thus they murdered my beloved son.
She cuts down the arbour.
Down with these branches and those loathsome boughs
Of this unfortunate and fatal pine:
Down with them, Isabella, rent them up,
And burn the roots from whence the rest is sprung:
10 I will not leave a root, a stalk, a tree,
A bough, a branch, a blossom, nor a leaf,
No, not a herb within this garden plot.
Accursed complot of my misery,
Fruitless for ever may this garden be.
Barren the earth and blissless whosoever
Imagines not to keep it unmanured.
An eastern wind commixed with noisome airs,
Shall blast the plants and the young saplings;
The earth with serpents shall be plastered
20 And passengers for fear to be infect,
Shall stand aloof and looking at it, tell
There murdered died the son of Isabel.
Ay, here he died, and here I him embrace.
See where his ghost solicits with his wounds,
Revenge on her that should revenge his death.
Hieronimo, make haste to see thy son,
For sorrow and despair hath cited me,
To hear Horatio plead with Rhadamanth.
Make haste, Hieronimo, to hold excused
30 Thy negligence in pursuit of their deaths
Whose hateful wrath bereaved him of his breath.
Ah nay, thou dost delay their deaths,
Forgives the murderers of thy noble son.
And none but I bestir me to no end.
And as I curse this tree from further fruit,
So shall my womb be cursed for his sake,
And with this weapon will I wound the breast,
The hapless breast that gave Horatio suck.
She stabs herself. [Exit.]
[Act 4
Scene 3]
Enter Hieronimo, he knocks up the curtain.
Enter the Duke of Castile.
Castile. How now Hieronimo, where’s your fellows,
That you take all this pain?
Hieronimo. O sir, it is for the author’s credit,
To look that all things may go well:
But good my lord, let me entreat your grace,
To give the king the copy of the play:
This is the argument of what we show.
Castile. I will, Hieronimo.
Hieronimo. One thing more, my good lord.
10 Castile. What’s that?
Hieronimo. let me entreat your grace,
That when the train are passed into the gallery,
You would vouchsafe to throw me down the key.
Castile. I will, Hieronimo. Exit Castile.
Hieronimo. What, are you ready Balthazar?
Bring a chair and a cushion for the king.
Five Revenge Tragedies: The Spanish Tragedy, Hamlet, Antonio's Revenge, The Tragedy of Hoffman, The Revenger's Tragedy (Penguin Classics) Page 10