Enter Balthazar with a chair.
Well done Balthazar, hang up the title:
Our scene is Rhodes. What, is your beard on?
Balthazar. Half on, the other is in my hand.
20 Hieronimo. Dispatch for shame, are you so long?
Exit Balthazar.
Bethink thyself, Hieronimo.
Recall thy wits, recompt thy former wrongs
Thou hast received by murder of thy son.
And lastly, not least, how Isabel,
Once his mother and thy dearest wife,
All woebegone for him hath slain herself.
Behoves thee then, Hieronimo, to be revenged.
The plot is laid of dire revenge.
On then, Hieronimo, pursue revenge,
30 For nothing wants but acting of revenge.
Exit Hieronimo.
[Act 4
Scene 4]
Enter Spanish King, Viceroy, the Duke of Castile, and their train.
King. Now, viceroy, shall we see the tragedy
Of Soliman the Turkish emperor,
Performed of pleasure by your son the prince,
My nephew Don lorenzo and my niece.
Viceroy. Who, Bel-imperia?
King. Ay, and Hieronimo our marshal,
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.
10 This is the argument of that they show.
He giveth him a book.
Gentlemen, this play of Hieronimo in sundry languages was thought good to be set down in English more largely, for the easier understanding to every public reader.
Enter Balthazar, Bel-imperia and Hieronimo.
Balthazar. Bashaw, that Rhodes is ours, yield heavens the honour,
And holy Mahomet our sacred Prophet:
And be thou graced with every excellence
That Soliman can give or thou desire.
But thy desert in conquering Rhodes is less,
Than in reserving this fair Christian nymph
Perseda, blissful lamp of excellence:
Whose eyes compel like powerful adamant
The warlike heart of Soliman to wait.
20 King. See, viceroy, that is Balthazar, your son,
That represents the Emperor Soliman.
How well he acts his amorous passion!
Viceroy. Ay, Bel-imperia hath taught him that.
Castile. That’s because his mind runs all on Bel-imperia.
Hieronimo. Whatever joy earth yields betide your majesty.
Balthazar. Earth yields no joy without Perseda’s love.
Hieronimo. let then Perseda on your grace attend.
Balthazar. She shall not wait on me, but I on her,
Drawn by the influence of her lights, I yield,
30 But let my friend the Rhodean knight come forth,
Erasto, dearer than my life to me,
That he may see Perseda my beloved.
Enter Erasto.
King. Here comes lorenzo: look upon the plot,
And tell me brother, what part plays he?
Bel-imperia. Ah my Erasto, welcome to Perseda.
Lorenzo. Thrice happy is Erasto, that thou lives,
Rhodes’ loss is nothing to Erasto’s joy:
Sith his Perseda lives, his life survives.
Balthazar. Ah bashaw, here is love between Erasto
40 And fair Perseda sovereign of my soul.
Hieronimo. Remove Erasto mighty Soliman,
And then Perseda will be quickly won.
Balthazar. Erasto is my friend, and while he lives,
Perseda never will remove her love.
Hieronimo. let not Erasto live, to grieve great Soliman.
Balthazar. Dear is Erasto in our princely eye.
Hieronimo. But if he be your rival, let him die.
Balthazar. Why let him die, so love commandeth me.
Yet grieve I that Erasto should so die.
50 Hieronimo. Erasto, Soliman saluteth thee
And lets thee wit by me his highness’ will:
Which is, thou should’st be thus employed. Stab him.
Bel-imperia. Ay me Erasto, see Soliman, Erasto’s slain.
Balthazar. Yet liveth Soliman to comfort thee
Fair queen of beauty, let not favour die,
But with a gracious eye behold his grief,
That with Perseda’s beauty is increased.
If by Perseda’s grief be not released.
Bel-imperia. Tyrant, desist soliciting vain suits,
60 Relentless are mine ears to thy laments
As thy butcher is pitiless and base,
Which seized on my Erasto, harmless knight.
Yet by thy power thou thinkest to command,
And to thy power Perseda doth obey,
But were she able, thus she would revenge
Thy treachery on thee ignoble prince: Stab him.
And on herself she would be thus revenged. Stab herself.
King. Well said old marshal, this was bravely done.
Hieronimo. But Bel-imperia plays Perseda well.
70 Viceroy. Were this in earnest, Bel-imperia,
You would be better to my son than so.
King. But now what follows for Hieronimo?
Hieronimo. Marry, this follows for Hieronimo.
Here break we off our sundry languages,
And thus conclude I in our vulgar tongue.
Haply you think, but bootless are your thoughts,
That this is fabulously counterfeit,
And that we do as all tragedians do,
To die today for, fashioning our scene,
80 The death of Ajax or some Roman peer,
And in a minute starting up again,
Revive to please tomorrow’s audience.
No princes, know that I am Hieronimo,
The hopeless father of a hapless son,
Whose tongue is tuned to tell his latest tale,
Not to excuse gross errors in the play.
I see your looks urge instance of these words,
Behold the reason urging me to this.
Shows his dead son.
See here my show, look on this spectacle:
90 Here lay my hope, and here my hope hath end;
Here lay my heart, and here my heart was slain;
Here lay my treasure, here my treasure lost;
Here lay my bliss, and here my bliss bereft.
But hope, heart, treasure, joy and bliss:
All fled, failed, died, yea, all decayed with this.
From forth these wounds came breath that gave me life,
They murdered me that made these fatal marks.
The cause was love, whence grew this mortal hate.
The hate lorenzo and young Balthazar:
100 The love, my son to Bel-imperia.
But night, the coverer of accursed crimes,
With pitchy silence hushed these traitors’ harms,
And lent them leave, for they had sorted leisure,
To take advantage in my garden plot,
Upon my son, my dear Horatio.
There merciless they butchered up my boy,
In black, dark night, to pale, dim, cruel death.
He shrieks, I heard, and yet methinks I hear
His dismal outcry echo in the air.
110 With soonest speed I hasted to the noise,
Where hanging on a tree, I found my son,
Through-girt with wounds, and slaughtered as you see,
And grieved I, think you, at this spectacle?
Speak Portuguese, whose loss resembles mine,
If thou canst weep upon thy Balthazar,
’Tis like I wailed for my Horatio.
And you, my lord, whose reconciled son,
Marched in a net, and thought himself unseen,
And rated me for brainsick lunacy,
120 With ‘God amend
that mad Hieronimo!’ –
How can you brook our play’s catastrophe?
And here behold this bloody handkercher,
Which at Horatio’s death I, weeping, dipped
Within the river of his bleeding wounds.
It as propitious, see I have reserved,
And never hath it left my bloody heart,
Soliciting remembrance of my vow.
With these, O these accursed murderers,
Which now performed, my heart is satisfied.
130 And to this end, the bashaw I became,
That might revenge me on lorenzo’s life,
Who therefore was appointed to the part
And was to represent the knight of Rhodes.
That I might kill him more conveniently.
So, viceroy, was this Balthazar, thy son,
That Soliman, which Bel-imperia,
In person of Perseda murdered:
Solely appointed to that tragic part,
That she might slay him that offended her.
140 Poor Bel-imperia missed her part in this,
For though the story saith she should have died,
Yet I of kindness and of care to her,
Did otherwise determine of her end:
But love of him whom they did hate too much,
Did urge her resolution to be such.
And princes, now behold Hieronimo,
Author and actor in this tragedy:
Bearing his latest fortune in his fist:
And will as resolute conclude his part,
150 As any of the actors gone before.
And gentles, thus I end my play,
Urge no more words, I have no more to say.
He runs to hang himself.
King. O harken, viceroy, hold Hieronimo!
Brother, my nephew and thy son are slain.
Viceroy. We are betrayed, my Balthazar is slain,
Break ope the doors, run, save Hieronimo.
Hieronimo, do but inform the king of these events,
Upon mine honour thou shalt have no harm.
Hieronimo. Viceroy, I will not trust thee with my life
160 Which I this day have offered to my son:
Accursed wretch, why stayest thou him that was resolved to die?
King. Speak traitor, damned bloody murderer speak.
For now I have thee I will make thee speak.
Why hast thou done this undeserving deed?
Viceroy. Why hast thou murdered my Balthazar?
Castile. Why hast thou butchered both my children thus?
Hieronimo. O good words: as dear to me was my Horatio
As yours, or yours, or yours, my lords to you.
My guiltless son was by lorenzo slain,
170 And by lorenzo and that Balthazar,
Am I at last revenged thoroughly,
Upon whose souls may heavens be yet avenged,
With greater far than these afflictions.
Castile. But who were thy confederates in this?
Viceroy. That was thy daughter Bel-imperia,
For by her hand my Balthazar was slain.
I saw her stab him.
King. Why speakest not thou?
Hieronimo. What lesser liberty can kings afford,
180 Than harmless silence? then afford it me:
Sufficeth I may not, nor I will not tell thee.
King. Fetch forth the tortures.
Traitor as thou art, I’ll make thee tell.
Hieronimo. Indeed, thou mayest torment me, as his wretched son
Hath done in murdering my Horatio.
But never shalt thou force me to reveal
The thing which I have vowed inviolate:
And therefore in despite of all thy threats,
Pleased with their deaths, and eased with their revenges,
190 First take my tongue, and afterwards my heart.
[He bites out his tongue.]
King. O monstrous resolution of a wretch,
See viceroy, he hath bitten forth his tongue,
Rather than to reveal what we required!
Castile. Yet can he write.
King. And if in this he satisfy us not,
We will devise the extremest kind of death,
That ever was invented for a wretch.
Then he makes signs for a knife to mend his pen.
Castile. O, he would have a knife to mend his pen.
Viceroy. Here, and advise him that thou write the truth,
200 King. look to my brother, save Hieronimo.
He with a knife stabs the Duke and himself.
King. What age hath ever heard such monstrous deeds?
My brother and the whole succeeding hope
That Spain expected after my decease.
Go bear his body hence that we may mourn
The loss of our beloved brother’s death,
That he may be entombed whate’er befall.
I am the next, the nearest, the last of all.
Viceroy. And thou Don Pedro do the like for us:
Take up our hapless son untimely slain.
210 Set me with him, and he with woeful me,
Upon the mainmast of a ship unmanned,
And let the wind and tide haul me along,
To Scylla’s barking and untamed grief,
Or to the loathsome pool of Acheron,
To weep my want for my sweet Balthazar.
Spain hath no refuge for a Portingale.
The trumpets sound a dead march, the King of Spain mourning after his brother’s body, and the [Viceroy] of Portingale bearing the body of his son.
[Act 4
Scene 5]
Enter Ghost and Revenge.
Ghost. Ay, now my hopes have end in their effects,
When blood and sorrow finish my desires:
Horatio murdered in his father’s bower,
Vile Serberine by Pedringano slain,
False Pedringano hanged by quaint device,
Fair Isabella by herself misdone,
Prince Balthazar by Bel-imperia stabbed,
The duke of Castile and his wicked son
Both done to death by old Hieronimo.
10 My Bel-imperia fallen as Dido fell,
And good Hieronimo slain by himself:
Ay, 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 inured.
I’ll lead fair Isabella to that train
20 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 haul them down to deepest hell,
Where none but Furies, bugs, and tortures dwell.
Ghost. Then sweet Revenge, do this at my request,
30 Let me be judge and doom them to unrest.
Let loose poor Tityus from the vulture’s grip,
And let Don Ciprian supply his room.
Place Don lorenzo on Ixion’s wheel,
And let the lover’s endless pains surcease:
Juno forgets old wrath and grants him ease.
Hang Balthazar around 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,
40 And take from Sisyphus his endless moan.
False Pedringano for his treachery,
Let him be dragged through boiling Acheron.
<
br /> 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 hath end their misery,
I’ll there begin their endless tragedy.
FINIS
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Hamlet (1603)
List Of Characters
HAMLET prince of Denmark
GHOST of Hamlet’s father, late King Hamlet of Denmark
KING Hamlet’s uncle
QUEEN Gertred, Hamlet’s mother
CORAMBIS councillor
LEARTES son of Corambis
OFELIA daughter of Corambis
HORATIO Hamlet’s friend
ROSSENCRAFT and GILDERSTONE Hamlet’s friends
VOLTEMAR and CORNELIA Danish ambassadors
BARNARDO and MARCELLUS watchmen
MONTANO Corambis’ agent
FORTENBRASSE prince of Norway
PLAYERS
SENTINEL
BRAGGART
1 CLOWN gravedigger
2 CLOWN
PRIEST
LORDS
AMBASSADORS
ATTENDANTS
[Scene 1]
Enter [Sentinel and Barnardo].
Sentinel. Stand, who is that?
Barnardo. ’Tis I.
Sentinel. O, you come most carefully upon your watch.
Barnardo. And if you meet Marcellus and Horatio,
The partners of my watch, bid them make haste.
Sentinel. I will. See, who goes there?
Enter Horatio and Marcellus.
Horatio. Friends to this ground.
Marcellus. And liegemen to the Dane,
O farewell, honest soldier. Who hath relieved you?
10 Sentinel. Barnardo hath my place. Give you good night. [Exit.]
Marcellus. Holla, Barnardo.
Barnardo. Say, is Horatio there?
Horatio. A piece of him.
Barnardo. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus.
Marcellus. What, hath this thing appeared again tonight?
Barnardo. I have seen nothing.
Marcellus. Horatio says ’tis but our fantasy,
And will not let belief take hold of him
Touching this dreaded sight twice seen by us.
20 Therefore I have entreated him along with us
To watch the minutes of this night,
That if again this apparition come,
He may approve our eyes, and speak to it.
Horatio. Tut, ’twill not appear.
Barnardo. Sit down, I pray, and let us once again
Assail your ears that are so fortified,
What we have two nights seen.
Five Revenge Tragedies: The Spanish Tragedy, Hamlet, Antonio's Revenge, The Tragedy of Hoffman, The Revenger's Tragedy (Penguin Classics) Page 11