Hark here, proud pomp shoots mounting triumph up
Born in loud accents to the front of Jove.
70 Pandulpho. O now, he that wants soul to kill a slave,
Let him die slave, and rot in peasant’s grave.
Antonio. Give me thy hand and thine, most noble heart,
Thus will we live, and, but thus, never part.
Exeunt twin’d together.
Act 5
Scene 4
Cornets sound a sennet.
Enter Castilio and Forobosco, two pages with torches, lucio bare, Piero and Maria, Galeatzo, two senators and Nutriche.
Piero to Maria.
Piero. Sit close unto my breast, heart of my love,
Advance thy drooping eyes: Thy son is drowned.
Rich happiness that such a son is drowned.
Thy husband’s dead: life of my joys, most blest,
In that the sapless log that pressed thy bed
With an unpleasing weight, being lifted hence.
Even I Piero live to warm his place.
I tell you, lady, had you viewed us both
With an unpartial eye, when first we wooed
10 Your maiden beauties, I had borne the prize,
’Tis firm I had: for, fain, I ha’ done that.
Maria. [Aside] Murder!
Piero. Which he would quake to have adventured;
Thou know’st I have –
Maria. [Aside] Murdered my husband.
Piero. Borne out the shock of war, and done what not
That valour durst. Dost love me fairest? say.
Maria. As I do hate my son, I love thy soul.
Piero. Why then Io to Hymen, mount a lofty note:
20 Fill red-cheeked Bacchus, let lyaeus float
In burnished goblets. Force the plump-lipped god
Skip light lavoltas in your full-sapped veins.
’Tis well brimful. Even I have glut of blood.
Let quaff carouse; I drink this Bordeaux wine
Unto the health of dead Andrugio,
Feliche, Strotzo, and Antonio’s ghosts.
[Aside] Would I had some poison to infuse it with,
That having done honour to the dead,
I might send one to give them notice on’t.
30 I would endear my favour to the full.
Boy, sing aloud, make heaven’s vault to ring
With thy breath’s strength. I drink. Now loudly sing.
[Song.] The song ended, the cornets sound a sennet.
Act 5
Scene 5
Enter Antonio, Pandulpho, and Alberto, in masquery; Balurdo and a torchbearer.
Piero. Call Julio hither; where’s the little soul?
I saw him not today. Here’s sport alone
For him, i’faith; for babes and fools, I know,
Relish not substance, but applaud the show.
[Enter Galeatzo, speaks aside] to the conspirators as they stand in rank for the measure.
Galeatzo. To Antonio. All blessed fortune crown your brave attempt.
To Pandulpho. I have a troop to second your attempt.
To Alberto. The Venice states join hearts unto your hands.
Piero. By the delights in contemplation
Of coming joys, ’tis magnificent.
10 You grace my marriage eve with sumptuous pomp.
Sound still, loud music. O your breath gives grace
To curious feet, that in proud measure pace.
Antonio. [Aside] Mother, is Julio’s body –
Maria. [Aside] Speak it not, doubt not; all is above all hope.
Antonio. [Aside] Then will I dance and whirl about the air.
Methinks I am all soul, all heart, all spirit.
Now murder shall receive his ample merit.
The measure. While the measure is dancing, Andrugio’s ghost is placed betwixt the music houses.
Piero. Bring hither suckets, candied delicates.
We’ll taste some sweetmeats, gallants, ere we sleep.
20 Antonio. We’ll cook your sweetmeats, gallants, with tart sour sauce.
Andrugio. Here will I sit, spectator of revenge,
And glad my ghost in anguish of my foe.
The masquers whisper with Piero.
Piero. Marry and shall; i’faith I were too rude,
If I gainsaid so civil fashion:
The masquers pray you to forbear the room,
Till they have banqueted. let it be so:
No man presume to visit them, on death.
[Exit attendants.]
The masquers whisper again.
Only myself? O, why with all my heart.
I’ll fill your consort: here Piero sits:
30 Come on, unmask, let’s fall to.
The conspirators bind Piero, pluck out his tongue, and triumph over him.
Antonio. Murder and torture: no prayers, no entreats!
Pandulpho. We’ll spoil your oratory. Out with his tongue!
Antonio. I have’t Pandulpho: the veins panting bleed,
Trickling fresh gore about my fist. Bind fast, so, so.
Andrugio. Blest be thy hand. I taste the joys of heaven,
Viewing my son triumph in his black blood.
Balurdo. Down to the dungeon with him, I’ll dungeon with him; I’ll fool you; Sir Geoffrey will be Sir Geoffrey. I’ll tickle you.
40 Antonio. Behold, black dog.
Pandulpho. Grin’st thou, thou snarling cur?
Alberto. Eat thy black liver.
Antonio. To thine anguish see
A fool triumphant in thy misery.
Vex him, Balurdo.
Pandulpho. He weeps: now do I glorify my hands.
I had no vengeance, if I had no tears.
Antonio. Fall to, good duke, O these are worthless cates,
You have no stomach to them; look, look here
50 Here lies a dish to feast thy father’s gorge.
[Shows him Julio’s body.]
Here’s flesh and blood, which I am sure thou lovest.
Piero seems to condole his son.
Pandulpho. Was he thy flesh, thy son, thy dearest son?
Antonio. So was Andrugio my dearest father.
Pandulpho. So was Feliche my dearest son.
Enter Maria.
Maria. So was Andrugio my dearest husband.
Antonio. My father found no pity in thy blood.
Pandulpho. Remorse was banished, when thou slew’st my son.
Maria. When thou empoisoned’st my loving lord,
Exiled was piety.
60 Antonio. Now, therefore, pity, piety, remorse
Be aliens to our thoughts: grim fiery-eyed rage
Possess us wholly.
Pandulpho. Thy son? true: and which is my most joy.
I hope no bastard, but thy very blood
Thy true-begotten most legitimate
And loved issue: there’s the comfort on’t.
Antonio. Scum of the mud of hell!
Alberto. Slime of all filth!
Maria. Thou most detested toad!
70 Balurdo. Thou most retort and obtuse rascal!
Antonio. Thus charge we death at thee: remember hell,
And let the howling murmurs of black spirits,
The horrid torments of the damned ghosts
Affright thy soul, as it descendeth down
Into the entrails of the ugly deep.
Pandulpho. Sa, sa; no, let him die, die, and still be dying.
They offer to run all at Piero, and on a sudden stop.
And yet not die, till he hath died and died
Ten thousand deaths in agony of heart.
Antonio. Now pellmell! This the hand of heaven chokes
80 The throat of murder. This for my father’s blood.
He stabs Piero.
Pandulpho. This for my son.
Alberto. This for them all.
And this, and this; sink to the heart of hell.
They run all at Piero with t
heir rapiers.
Pandulpho. Murder for murder, blood for blood doth yell.
Andrugio. ’Tis done, and now my soul shall sleep in rest.
Sons that revenge their father’s blood are blest.
The curtains being drawn, exit Andrugio.
Act 5
Scene 6
Enter Galeatzo, two senators, lucio, Forobosco, Castilio, and ladies.
1 Senator. Whose hand presents this gory spectacle?
Antonio. Mine.
Pandulpho. No: mine.
Alberto. No: mine.
Antonio. I will not lose the glory of the deed,
Were all the tortures of the deepest hell
Fixed to my limbs. I pierced the monster’s heart
With an undaunted hand.
Pandulpho. By yon bright spangled front of heaven, ’twas I:
10 ’Twas I sluiced out his lifeblood.
Alberto. Tush, to say troth, ’twas all.
2 Senator. Blessed be you all, and may your honours live
Religiously held sacred, even for ever and ever.
Galeatzo. To Antonio. Thou art another Hercules to us.
In ridding huge pollution from our state.
1 Senator. Antonio, belief is fortified,
With most invincible approvements of much wrong,
By this Piero to thee. We have found
Beadrolls of mischief, plots of villainy,
20 Laid ’twixt the duke and Strotzo, which we found
Too firmly acted.
2 Senator. Alas, poor orphan.
Antonio. Poor? Standing triumphant over Beelzebub?
Having large interest for blood, and yet deemed poor?
1 Senator. What satisfaction outward pomp can yield,
Of chiefest fortunes of the Venice state,
Claim freely. You are well-seasoned props
And will not warp or lean to either part.
Calamity gives man a steady heart.
30 Antonio. We are amazed at your benignity:
But other vows constrain another course.
Pandulpho. We know the world, and did we know no more,
We would not live to know: but since constraint
Of holy bands forceth us keep this lodge
Of dirt’s corruption, till dread power calls
Our souls’ appearance, we will live enclosed
In holy verge of some religious order,
Most constant votaries.
The curtains are drawn. Pandulpho departeth.
Antonio. First let’s cleanse our hands,
40 Purge hearts of hatred, and entomb my love,
Over whose hearse, I’ll weep away my brain
In true affection’s tears.
For her sake, here I vow a virgin bed.
She lives in me, with her my love is dead.
2 Senator. We will attend her mournful exequies.
Conduct you to your calm sequestered life,
And then –
Maria. leave us to meditate on misery;
To sad our thought with contemplation
50 Of past calamities. If any ask
Where lives the widow of the poisoned lord?
Where lies the orphan of a murdered father?
Where lies the father of a butchered son?
Where lives all woe? conduct him to us three;
The downcast ruins of calamity.
Antonio. Sound, doleful tunes; a solemn hymn advance
To close the last act of my vengeance.
And when the subject of your passion’s spent,
Sing Mellida is dead: all hearts will relent
60 In sad condolement, at that heavy sound.
Never more woe in lesser plot was found
And O, if ever time create a muse,
That to th’immortal fame of virgin faith
Dares once engage his pen to write her death,
Presenting it in some black tragedy,
May it prove gracious, may his style be decked
With freshest blooms of purest elegance.
May it have gentle presence, and the scenes sucked up
By calm attention of choice audience:
70 And when the closing epilogue appears,
Instead of claps, may it obtain but tears.
[Song.]
Exeunt omnes, Antonij vindictae finis.
HENRY CHETTLE
The Tragedy of Hoffman or A Revenge for a Father
List of Characters
Clois HOFFMAN
LORRIQUE
OTHO prince of Luningberg
MARTHA duchess of Luningberg, mother of Otho
FERDINAND duke of Prussia
JEROME son of Ferdinand
STILT servant of Jerome
DUKE OF SAXONY
RODORICK a hermit, brother to Saxony
LODOWICK son of Saxony
MATHIAS son of Saxony
DUKE OF AUSTRIA
LUCIBELLA daughter of Austria
OLD STILT soldier
FIBS soldier
LORD Martha’s attendant
Attendants, Herald, Soldiers
[Act 1
Scene 1]
Enter Hoffman.
Hoffman. Hence clouds of melancholy!
I’ll be no longer subject to your schisms.
But thou dear soul, whose nerves and arteries
In dead resoundings summon up revenge,
And thou shalt ha’t; be but appeased, sweet hearse,
The dead remembrance of my living father.
Strikes ope a curtain where appears a body.
And with a heart as air, swift as thought
I’ll execute justly in such a cause.
Where truth leadeth, what coward would not fight?
10 Ill acts move some, but mine’s a cause is right.
Thunder and lightning.
See the powers of heaven in apparitions
And fight-full aspects, as incensed
That I thus tardy am to do an act
Which justice and a father’s death excites.
Like threatening meteors antedates destruction. Thunder.
Again! I come, I come, I come,
Be silent, thou effigies of fair virtue;
That like a goodly scion wert plucked up
By murderous winds, infectious blasts and gusts,
20 I will not leave thee, until like thyself
I’ve made thy enemies; then hand in hand
We’ll walk to paradise. [Thunder.] Again more blast,
I’ll to yon promont’s top, and there survey
What shipwrecked passengers the Belgic sea
casts from her foamy entrails by mischance.
Roar sea and winds, and with celestial fires,
Quicken high projects with your highest desires.
Enter lorrique.
Lorrique. Yet this is somewhat like, but brambles, you are too busy: were I at luningberg, and you catch me thus, I should
30 go near to ask you at whose suit – but now I am out of scent and fear no sergeants, for I think these woods and waters are commonwealths that need no such subjects; nay they keep not a constable at sea, but a man’s overwhelmed without order. Well, dry land I love thee, though thou swarm with millions of devourers, yet hast thou no such swallow as the sea.
Hoffman. Thou liest: there lives upon the earth more beasts
With wide-devouring throats than can be found
Of ravenous fishes in the ocean.
40 The huge leviathan is but a shrimp
compared with our balena on the land.
Lorrique. I am of your mind, but the whale has a wide mouth
To swallow fleeting waters and poor fish.
[Hoffman.] But we have epicures and cormorants
Whom neither sea, nor land can hardly serve.
They feed them fat, while arms and honour starve.
Desert looks pale as death, like those bare bones.
Lorrique. Ha —— amazed!
&
nbsp; Hoffman. Seest thou them, trembling slave? Here were arms
50 That served the trothless state of luningberg.
Lorrique. So do I sir, serve the duke’s son of the state.
Hoffman. Ha, ha! I laugh to see how dastard fear
Hasten the death-doomed wretch to his distress –
Say, didst thou serve the duke of luningberg?
Lorrique. His son Otho, sir: I’m a poor follower of his,
And my master is airing of himself at your cell.
Hoffman. Is he that ’scaped the wreck young luningberg?
Lorrique. Ay, sir, the same sir; you are in the right, sir.
Hoffman. Revenge I kiss thee, vengeance y’are at liberty!
60 Wouldst thou having lost a father as I have,
Whose very name dissolves my eyes to tears;
could duty and thy love so different prove,
Not to avenge his death whose better part
Was thine, thou his; when he fell, part of thee
Fell with him, each drop being part thine own,
And wouldst not be revenged?
Lorrique. Yes, on the murderer.
Hoffman. On him, or any man that is allied;
Has but one ounce of blood, of which he’s part.
70 He was my father: my heart still bleeds,
Nor can my wounds be stopped till an incision
I’ve made to bury my dead father in.
Therefore without protraction, sighing, or excuses:
Swear to be true, to aid, assist me, not to stir
Or contradict me in my enterprise
I shall now undertake, or hereafter.
Lorrique. I swear.
Hoffman. Were I persuaded that thou couldst shed tears,
As doth the Egyptian serpents near the Nile,
80 If thou wouldst kiss and kill, embrace and stab,
Then thou shouldst live: for my invictive brain
Hath cast a glorious project of revenge.
Even as thou kneel’st, wilt thou turn villain, speak?
Lorrique. Oh sir, when was I otherwise? From my creation, nothing else; I was made of no other stuff. Villainy is my only patrimony: though I be an irreligious slave, yet I bear a religious name; though I want courage, yet in talk I’ll put them all down, though I have nothing in me that is good. Yet I’ll ——
90 Hoffman. Forbear, thy lord is coming: I’ll go in
And royally provide for such a prince.
Say thou hast met the kindest host alive,
Five Revenge Tragedies: The Spanish Tragedy, Hamlet, Antonio's Revenge, The Tragedy of Hoffman, The Revenger's Tragedy (Penguin Classics) Page 24