Five Revenge Tragedies: The Spanish Tragedy, Hamlet, Antonio's Revenge, The Tragedy of Hoffman, The Revenger's Tragedy (Penguin Classics)
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80 To beat their valours for her?
Surely we’re all mad people, and they
Whom we think are, are not: we mistake those.
’Tis we are mad in sense, they but in clothes.
Hippolito. Faith and in clothes too we, give us our due.
Vindice. Does every proud and self-affecting dame
Camphor her face for this, and grieve her maker
In sinful baths of milk, when many an infant starves,
In her superfluous outside, for all this?
Who now bids twenty pound a night, prepares
90 Music, perfumes, and sweetmeats: all are hushed.
Thou mayst lie chaste now! It were fine, methinks,
To have thee seen at revels, forgetful feasts,
And unclean brothels. Sure, ’twould fright the sinner
And make him a good coward, put a reveller
Out off his antic amble,
And cloy an epicure with empty dishes!
Here might a scornful and ambitious woman,
look through and through herself – see ladies, with false forms,
You deceive men, but cannot deceive worms.
100 Now to my tragic business. look you, brother,
I have not fashioned this only for show
And useless property; no, it shall bear a part
E’en in its own revenge. This very skull,
Whose mistress the duke poisoned, with this drug,
The mortal curse of the earth, shall be revenged
In the like strain, and kiss his lips to death.
As much as the dumb thing can, he shall feel:
What fails in poison, we’ll supply in steel.
Hippolito. Brother, I do applaud thy constant vengeance,
110 The quaintness of thy malice, above thought.
Vindice. So ’tis laid on: now come and welcome, duke,
I have her for thee. I protest it, brother:
Methinks she makes almost as fair a sign
As some old gentlewoman in a periwig.
Hide thy face now for shame, thou hadst need have a mask now.
’Tis vain when beauty flows, but when it fleets,
This would become graves better than the streets.
Hippolito. You have my voice in that. Hark, the duke’s come.
Vindice. Peace, let’s observe what company he brings,
120 And how he does absent ’em, for you know
He’ll wish all private. Brother, fall you back a little
With the bony lady.
Hippolito. That I will.
Vindice. So, so, now nine years’ vengeance crowd into a minute!
[Enter Duke with Gentleman.]
Duke. You shall have leave to leave us, with this charge,
Upon your lives, if we be missed by the duchess
Or any of the nobles, to give out
We’re privately rid forth.
Vindice. [Aside] Oh happiness!
130 Duke. With some few honourable gentlemen you may say:
You may name those that are away from court.
Gentleman. Your will and pleasure shall be done my lord.
[Exit.]
Vindice. [Aside] ‘Privately rid forth’,
He strives to make sure work on’t. Your good grace?
Duke. Piato, well done. Hast brought her; what lady is’t?
Vindice. ’Faith my lord, a country lady: a little bashful at first as most of them are, but after the first kiss, my lord, the worst is past with them. Your grace knows now what you have to do. She’s somewhat a grave look with her – but –
140 Duke. I love that best: conduct her.
Vindice. [Aside] Have at all!
[Brings forward the dressed skull.]
Duke. In gravest looks the greatest faults seem less:
Give me that sin that’s robed in holiness.
Vindice. [Aside] Back with the torch; brother raise the perfumes.
Duke. How sweet can a duke breathe? Age has no fault.
Pleasure should meet in a perfumed mist.
Lady, sweetly encountered. I came from court; I must be bold
with you – [Kisses the skull.]
Oh, what’s this, oh!
Vindice. Royal villain, white devil!
150 Duke. Oh!
Vindice. Brother, place the torch here, that his affrighted eyeballs
May start into those hollows. Duke, dost know
Yon dreadful vizard? View it well, ’tis the skull
Of Gloriana whom thou poisonedst last.
Duke. Oh, ’t’as poisoned me.
Vindice. Didst not know that till now?
Duke. What are you two?
Vindice. Villains all three. The very ragged bone
Has been sufficiently revenged.
160 Duke. Oh Hippolito? call treason.
Hippolito. Yes, my good lord. Treason, treason, treason.
Stamping on him.
Duke. Then I’m betrayed.
Vindice. Alas, poor lecher in the hands of knaves;
A slavish duke is baser than his slaves.
Duke. My teeth are eaten out.
Vindice. Hadst any left?
Hippolito. I think but few.
Vindice. Then those that did eat are eaten.
Duke. O my tongue!
170 Vindice. Your tongue? ’twill teach you to kiss closer,
Not like a slobbering Dutchman. You have eyes still:
Look monster, what a lady hast thou made me,
My once-betrothed wife.
Duke. Is it thou, villain, nay then –
Vindice. ’Tis I, ’tis Vindice, ’tis I.
Hippolito. And let this comfort thee: our lord and father
Fell sick upon the infection of thy frowns,
And died in sadness. Be that thy hope of life.
Duke. Oh!
180 Vindice. He had his tongue, yet grief made him die speechless.
Puh, ’tis but early yet. Now I’ll begin
To stick thy soul with ulcers; I will make
Thy spirit grievous sore: it shall not rest,
But like some pestilent man toss in thy breast. Mark me, duke:
Thou’rt a renowned, high, and mighty cuckold.
Duke. Oh!
Vindice. Thy bastard, thy bastard rides a-hunting in thy brow.
Duke. Millions of deaths!
Vindice. Nay to afflict thee more,
190 Here in this lodge they meet for damned clips.
Those eyes shall see the incest of their lips.
Duke. Is there a hell besides this, villains?
Vindice. Villain?
Nay heaven is just; scorns are the hires of scorns.
I ne’er knew yet adulterer without horns.
Hippolito. Once ere they die, ’tis quitted. [Music within.]
Vindice. Hark the music:
Their banquet is prepared, they’re coming –
Duke. Oh, kill me not with that sight.
200 Vindice. Thou shalt not lose that sight for all thy dukedom.
Duke. Traitors, murderers!
Vindice. What? Is not thy tongue eaten out yet?
Then we’ll invent a silence. Brother, stifle the torch.
Duke. Treason, murder!
Vindice. Nay ’faith, we’ll have you hushed. Now with thy dagger
Nail down his tongue, and mine shall keep possession
About his heart, if he but gasp he dies.
We dread not death to quittance injuries, brother.
If he but wink, not brooking the foul object,
210 Let our two other hands tear up his lids,
And make his eyes, like comets, shine through blood.
When the bad bleeds, then is the tragedy good.
Hippolito. Whist, brother, music’s at our ear: they come.
Enter the bastard [Spurio] meeting the Duchess.
Spurio. Had not that kiss a taste of sin, ’twere sweet.
Duchess. Why there’s no pleasu
re sweet but it is sinful.
Spurio. True, such a bitter sweetness fate hath given,
Best side to us, is the worst side to heaven.
Duchess. Push, come: ’tis the old duke thy doubtful father,
The thought of him rubs heaven in thy way;
220 But I protest by yonder waxen fire,
Forget him, or I’ll poison him.
Spurio. Madam, you urge a thought which ne’er had life.
So deadly do I loathe him for my birth
That if he took me hasped within his bed,
I would add murder to adultery,
And with my sword give up his years to death.
Duchess. Why, now thou’rt sociable, let’s in and feast.
Loudest music sound; pleasure is banquet’s guest. Exeunt.
Duke. I cannot brook –
230 Vindice. The brook is turned to blood.
Hippolito. Thanks to loud music.
Vindice. ’Twas our friend indeed,
’Tis state, in music for a duke to bleed:
The dukedom wants a head, though yet unknown:
As fast as they peep up, let’s cut ’em down. Exeunt.
Act 3
Scene 6
Enter the Duchess’ two sons, Ambitioso and Supervacuo.
Ambitioso. Was not his execution rarely plotted?
We are the duke’s sons now.
Supervacuo. Ay, you may thank my policy for that.
Ambitioso. Your policy, for what?
Supervacuo. Why wast not my invention, brother,
To slip the judges? And in lesser compass,
Did not I draw the model of his death,
Advising you to sudden officers,
And e’en extemporal execution?
10 Ambitioso. Heart, ’twas a thing I thought on too.
Supervacuo. You thought on’t too: ’sfoot, slander not your thoughts
With glorious untruth. I know ’twas from you.
Ambitioso. Sir I say, ’twas in my head.
Supervacuo. Ay, like your brains then,
Ne’er to come out as long as you lived.
Ambitioso. You’d have the honour on’t forsooth, that your wit
Lead him to the scaffold.
Supervacuo. Since it is my due,
I’ll publish’t, but I’ll ha’t in spite of you.
20 Ambitioso. Methinks y’are much too bold, you should a little
Remember us, brother: next to be honest duke.
Supervacuo. Ay, it shall be as easy for you to be duke,
As to be honest, and that’s never, i’faith.
Ambitioso. Well, cold he is by this time, and because
We’re both ambitious, be it our amity,
And let the glory be shared equally.
Supervacuo. I am content to that.
Ambitioso. This night our younger brother shall out of prison.
I have a trick.
30 Supervacuo. A trick, prithee what is’t?
Ambitioso. We’ll get him out by a wile.
Supervacuo. Prithee, what wile?
Ambitioso. No sir, you shall not know it, till’t be done,
For then you’d swear ’twere yours.
[Enter an officer carrying a decapitated head.]
Supervacuo. How now, what’s he?
Ambitioso. One of the officers.
Supervacuo. Desired news.
Ambitioso. How now, my friend?
Officer. My lords, under your pardon, I am allotted
40 To that desertless office, to present you
With the yet bleeding head.
Supervacuo. [Aside] Ha, ha, excellent!
Ambitioso. [Aside] All’s sure our own. Brother, canst weep, think’st thou?
’Twould grace our flattery much. Think of some dame,
’Twill teach thee to dissemble.
Supervacuo. I have thought – now for yourself.
Ambitioso. Our sorrows are so fluent,
Our eyes o’erflow our tongues, words spoke in tears
Are like the murmurs of the waters, the sound
50 Is loudly heard, but cannot be distinguished.
Supervacuo. How died he, pray?
Officer. O, full of rage and spleen.
Supervacuo. He died most valiantly then; we’re glad to hear it.
Officer. We could not woo him once to pray.
Ambitioso. He showed himself a gentleman in that: give him his due.
Officer. But in the stead of prayer, he drew forth oaths.
Supervacuo. Then did he pray, dear heart,
Although you understood him not.
Officer. My lords,
60 E’en at his last – with pardon be it spoke –
He cursed you both.
Supervacuo. He cursed us? ’las, good soul.
Ambitioso. It was not in our powers, but the duke’s pleasure,
[Aside] Finely dissembled o’both sides, sweet fate,
O happy opportunity!
Enter lussurioso.
Lussurioso. Now my lords.
Both. Oh!
Lussurioso. Why do you shun me, brothers?
You may come nearer now;
70 The savour of the prison has forsook me.
I thank such kind lords as yourselves, I’m free.
Ambitioso. Alive!
Supervacuo. In health!
Ambitioso. Released?
We were both e’en amazed with joy to see it.
Lussurioso. I am much to thank you.
Supervacuo. ’Faith, we spared no tongue unto my lord the duke.
Ambitioso. I know your delivery, brother,
Had not been half so sudden but for us.
80 Supervacuo. O, how we pleaded.
Lussurioso. Most deserving brothers.
In my best studies I will think of it. Exit lussurioso.
Ambitioso. O death and vengeance!
Supervacuo. Hell and torments!
Ambitioso. Slave, cam’st thou here to delude us?
Officer. Delude you my lords?
Supervacuo. Ay, villain, where’s this head now?
Officer. Why here, my lord:
Just after his delivery, you both came
90 With warrant from the duke to behead your brother.
Ambitioso. Ay, our brother, the duke’s son.
Officer. The duke’s son, my lord, had his release before you came.
Ambitioso. Whose head’s that then?
Officer. His whom you left command for, your own brother’s.
Ambitioso. Our brother’s? O furies –
Supervacuo. Plagues!
Ambitioso. Confusions!
Supervacuo. Darkness!
Ambitioso. Devils!
100 Supervacuo. Fell it out so accursedly?
Ambitioso. So damnedly?
Supervacuo. Villain, I’ll brain thee with it.
Officer. O, my good lord!
Supervacuo. The devil overtake thee.
Ambitioso. O fatal!
Supervacuo. O prodigious to our bloods!
Ambitioso. Did we dissemble?
Supervacuo. Did we make our tears women for thee?
Ambitioso. laugh and rejoice for thee?
110 Supervacuo. Bring warrant for thy death?
Ambitioso. Mock off thy head?
Supervacuo. You had a trick, you had a wile forsooth.
Ambitioso. A murrain meet ’em, there’s none of these wiles that ever come to good. I see now, there is nothing sure in mortality, but mortality. Well, no more words; shalt be revenged, i’faith.
Come, throw off clouds now, brother: think of vengeance,
And deeper settled hate. Sirrah, sit fast,
We’ll pull down all, but thou shalt down at last. Exeunt.
Act 4
Scene 1
Enter lussurioso with Hippolito.
Lussurioso. Hippolito.
Hippolito. My lord.
Has your good lordship aught to command me in?
Lussu
rioso. I prithee, leave us.
Hippolito. [Aside] How’s this? come and leave us?
Lussurioso. Hippolito.
Hippolito. Your honour – I stand ready for any duteous employment.
Lussurioso. Heart, what mak’st thou here?
Hippolito. [Aside] A pretty lordly humour.
10 He bids me to be present, to depart. Something has stung his honour?
Lussurioso. Be nearer, draw nearer:
Ye’re not so good methinks. I’m angry with you.
Hippolito. With me, my lord? I’m angry with my self for’t.
Lussurioso. You did prefer a goodly fellow to me:
’Twas wittily elected; ’twas, I thought
Had been a villain; and he proves a knave?
To me a knave.
Hippolito. I chose him for the best, my lord.
’Tis much my sorrow, if neglect in him breed discontent in you.
20 Lussurioso. Neglect? ’Twas will: judge of it.
Firmly to tell, an incredible act
Not to be thought, less to be spoken of
’Twixt my stepmother and the bastard, oh,
Incestuous sweets between ’em.
Hippolito. Fie my lord.
Lussurioso. I in kind loyalty to my father’s forehead
Made this a desperate arm, and in that fury,
Committed treason on the lawful bed;
And with my sword e’en rac’d my father’s bosom,
30 For which I was within a stroke of death.
Hippolito. Alack, I’m sorry: [Aside] ’sfoot, just upon the stroke
Jars in my brother, ’twill be villainous music.
Enter Vindice.
Vindice. My honoured lord.
Lussurioso. Away! Prithee forsake us: hereafter we’ll not know thee.
Vindice. Not know me, my lord? Your lordship cannot choose.
Lussurioso. Begone I say; thou art a false knave.
Vindice. Why the easier to be known, my lord.
Lussurioso. Push, I shall prove too bitter with a word;
Make thee a perpetual prisoner,
40 And lay this iron age upon thee.
Vindice. [Aside] Mum, for there’s a doom would make a woman dumb.
Missing the bastard next him: the wind’s come about;
Now ’tis my brother’s turn to stay, mine to go out.
Exit Vindice.
Lussurioso. Has greatly moved me.
Hippolito. Much to blame, i’faith.
Lussurioso. But I’ll recover to his ruin. ’Twas told me lately,
I know not whether falsely, that you’d a brother.
Hippolito. Who, I? Yes, my good lord, I have a brother.
Lussurioso. How chance the court ne’er saw him? of what nature?
50 How does he apply his hours?
Hippolito. ’Faith, to curse fates,