Enter HORATIO and BEL-IMPERIA.HOR. Now, madame, since by fauour of your loveOur hidden smoke is turnd to open flame,And that with lookes and words we feed our thought,—Two chiefe contents where more cannot be had,—Thus in the midst of loues faire blandeshmentsWhy shew you signe of inward languishments?PEDRINGANO sheweth all to the PRINCE andLORENZO, placing them in secret.BEL. My hart, sweet freend, is like a ship at sea:She wisheth port, where, riding all at ease,She may repaire what stormie times haue worne,And, leaning on the shore, may sing with ioyThat pleasure followes paine, and blisse annoy.Possession of thy loue is th' onely portWherein my hart, with feares and hopes long tost,Each howre doth wish and long to make resort,There to repaire the ioyes that it hath lost,And, sitting safe, to sing in Cupids quireThat sweetest blisse is crowne of loues desire.BALTHAZAR, aboue.BAL. O sleepe, mine eyes; see not my loue prophande!Be deafe, my ears; heare not my discontent!Dye, hart; another ioyes what thou deseruest!LOR. Watch still, mine eyes, to see this loue disioyned!Heare still, mine eares, to heare them both lament!Liue, hart, to ioy at fond Horatios fall!BEL. Why stands Horatio speecheles all this while?HOR. The lesse I speak, the more I meditate.BEL. But whereon doost thou cheifely meditate?HOR. On dangers past and pleasures to ensue.BAL. On pleasures past and dangers to ensue!BEL. What dangers and what pleasures doost thou mean?HOR. Dangers of warre and pleasures of our loue.LOR. Dangers of death, but pleasures none at all!BEL. Let dangers goe; thy warre shall be with me,But such a [warre] as breakes no bond of peace.Speake thou faire words, Ile crosse them with faire words;Send thou sweet looks, Ile meet them with sweet looks;Write louing lines, Ile answere louing lines;Giue me a kisse, Ile counterchecke thy kisse:Be this our warring peace, or peacefull warre.HOR. But, gratious madame, then appoint the fieldWhere triall of this warre shall first be made.BAL. Ambitious villaine, how his boldenes growes!BEL. Then be thy fathers pleasant bower in the field,—Where first we vowd a mutuall amitie.The court were dangerous; that place is safe.Our howre shalbe when Vesper ginnes to rise,That summons home distresfull trauellers.There none shall heare vs but the harmeles birds:Happelie the gentle nightingaleShall carroll vs a-sleepe ere we be ware,And, singing wit the prickle at her breast,Tell our delight and mirthfull dalliance.Till then, each houre will seeme a yeere and more.HOR. But, honie-sweet and honorable loue,Returne we now into your fathers sight;Dangerous suspition waits on our delight.LOR. I, danger mixt with iealous despiteShall send thy soule into eternalle night!Exeunt.
[The Spanish court.]Enter the KING OF SPAINE, PORTINGALEEMBASSADOUR, DON CIPRIAN, &c.KING. Brother of Castille, to the princes loueWhat saies your daughter Bel-imperia?CIP. Although she coy it, as becomes her kinde,And yet dissemble that she loues the prince,I doubt not, I, but she will stoope in time;And, were she froward,—which she will not be,—Yet heerin shall she follow my aduice,Which is to loue him or forgoe my loue.KING. Then, lord embassadour of Portingale,Aduise thy king to make this marriage vpFor strengthening of our late-confirmed league;I know no better meanes to make vs freends.Her dowry shall be large and liberall;Besides that she is daughter and halfe heireVnto our brother heere, Don Ciprian,And shall enioy the moitie of his land,Ile grace her marriage with an vnckles gift,And this is it: in case the match goe forward,The tribute which you pay shalbe releast;And, if by Balthazar she haue a sonne,He shall enioy the kingdome after vs.EMBAS. Ile make the motion to my soueraigne liege,And worke it if my counsaile may preuaile.KING. Doe so, my lord; and, if he giue consent,I hope his presence heere will honour vsIn celebration of the nuptiall day,—And let himselfe determine of the time.EM. Wilt please your Grace command me ought besid?KING. Commend me to the king; and so, farewell!But wheres Prince Balthazar, to take his leaue?EM. That is perfourmd alreadie, my good lord.KING. Amongst the rest of what you haue in charge,The princes raunsome must not be forgot:Thats none of mine, but his that tooke him prisoner,—And well his forwardnes deserues reward:It was Horatio, our knight-marshalls sonne.EM. Betweene vs theres a price already pitcht,And shall be send with all conuenient speed.KING. Then once againe farewell, my lord!EM. Farwell, my lord of Castile, and the rest!Exit.KING. Now, brother, you must make some little painesTo winne faire Bel-imperia from her will;Young virgins must be ruled by their freends.The prince is amiable, and loues her well;If she neglect him and forgoe his loue,She both will wrong her owne estate and ours.Therefore, whiles I doe entertaine the princeWith greatest pleasure that our court affoords,Endeauor you to winne your daughters thought.If she giue back, all this will come to naught.Exeunt.
[HORATIO's garden.]Enter HORATIO, BEL-IMPERIA, and PEDRINGANO.HOR. Now that the night begins with sable wingsTo ouer-cloud the brightnes of the sunne,And that in darkenes pleasures may be done,Come, Bel-imperia, let vs to the bower,And there is safetie passe a pleasant hower.BEL. I follow thee, my loue, and will not backe,Although my fainting hart controles my soule.HOR. Why, make you doubt of Pedringanos faith?BEL. No; he is as trustie as my second selfe.Goe, Pedringano, watch without the gate,And let vs known if any make approach.PED. [aside] In-steed of watching, Ile deserue more goldeBy fetching Don Lorenzo to this match.Exit PED[RINGANO].HOR. What means my loue?BEL. I know not what, my-selfe;And yet my hart foretels me some mischaunce.HOR. Sweet, say not so; faire Fortune is our freend,And heauens haue shut vp day to pleasure vs.The starres, thou seest, holde back their twinckling shineAnd Luna hides her-selfe to pleasure vs.BEL. Thou hast preuailed! Ile conquer my misdoubt,And in thy loue and councell drowne my feare.I feare no more; loue now is all my thoughts!Why sit we not? for pleasure asketh ease.HOR. The more thou sitst within these leauy bowers,The more will Flora decke it with her flowers.BEL. I; but, if Flora spye Horatio heere,Her iealous eye will think I sit too neere.HOR. Harke, madame, how the birds record by night,For ioy that Bel-imperia sits in sight!BEL. No; Cupid counterfeits the nightingale,To frame sweet musick to Horatios tale.HOR. If Cupid sing, then Venus is not farre,—I, thou art Venus, or some fairer starre!BEL. If I be Venus, thou must needs be Mars;And where Mars raigneth, there must needs be warres.HOR. Then thus begin our wars: put forth thy hand,That it may combat with my ruder hand.BEL. Set forth thy foot to try the push of mine.HOR. But, first, my lookes shall combat against thee.BEL. Then ward thy-selfe! I dart this kiss as thee.HOR. Thus I [return] the dart thou threwest at me!BEL. Nay then, to gaine the glory of the field,My twining armes shall yoake and make thee yeeld.HOR. Nay then, my armes are large and strong withall:Thus elmes by vines are compast till they fall.BEL. O, let me goe, for in my troubled eyesNow maist thou read that life in passion dies!HOR. O, stay a-while, and I will dye with thee;So shalt thou yeeld, and yet haue conquerd me.BEL. Whose there? Pedringano? We are betraide!Enter LORENZO, BALTHAZAR, CERBERIN,PEDRINGANO, disguised.LOR. My lord, away with her! take her aside!O sir, forbeare, your valour is already tride.Quickly dispatch, my maisters.Th[e]y hang him in the arbor.HOR. What, will you murder me?LOR. I; thus! and thus! these are the fruits of loue!They stab him.BEL. O, saue his life, and let me dye for him!O, saue him, brother! saue him, Balthazar!I loued Horatio, but he loued not me.BAL. But Balthazar loues Bel-imperia.LOR. Although his life were still ambitious, proud,Yet is he at the highest now he is dead.BEL. Murder! murder! helpe! Hieronimo, helpe!LOR. Come, stop her mouth! away with her!Exeunt.Enter HIERONIMO in his shirt, &c.HIERO. What outcried pluck me from my naked bed,And chill my throbbing hart with trembling feare,Which neuer danger yet could daunt before?Who cals Hieronimo? speak; heare I am!I did not slumber; therefore twas no dreame.No, no; it was some woman cride for helpe.And heere within this garden did she crie,And in this garden must I rescue her.But stay! what murderous spectacle is this?A man hanged vp, and all the murderers gone!And in the bower, to lay the guilt on me!This place was made for pleasure not for death.He cuts him downe.Those garments that he weares I oft haue seene,—Alas! it is Horatio, my sweet sonne!O, no; but he that whilome was my sonne!O, was it thou that call'dst me from my bed?O, speak, if any sparke of life remaine!I am thy father. Who hath slaine my sonne?What sauadge monster, not of humane kinde,Hath heere beene glutted with thy harmeles blood,And left they bloudie corpes dishonoured heere,For me amidst these darke and dreadfull shadesTo drowne thee with an ocean of my teares?O heauens, why made you night, to couer sinne?By day this deed of darknes had not beene.O earth, why didst thou not in time deuoureThe [vile] prophaner of this sacred bower?O poore Horatio, what hadst thou misdooneTo leese thy life ere life was new begun?O wicked butcher, what-so-ere thou wert,How could thou strangle vertue and desert?Ay me, most wretched! that haue lost my ioyIn leesing my Horatio, my sweet boy!Enter ISABELL.ISA. My husbands absence makes my hart to throb.Hieronimo!HIERO. Heere, Isabella. Helpe me to lament;For sighes are stopt, and all my teares are spent.ISA. What worlde of griefe—my sonne Horatio!O wheres the author of this endles woe?HIERO. To know the author were some ease of greefe,For in reuenge my hart would finde releefe.ISA. Then is he gone? and is my sonne gone too?O, gush out, teares! fountains and flouds of teares!Blow, sighes, and raise and euerlasting storme;For outrage fits our cursed wretchedness.HIERO. Sweet louely rose, ill pluckt before thy time!Faire, worthy sonne, not conquerd, but betraid!Ile kisse thee now, for words with teares are [stainde].ISA. And Ile close vp the glasses of his sight;For once these eyes were onely my delight.HIERO. Seest thou this handkercher besmerd with blood?It shall not from me till I take reuenge;Seest thou those wounds that yet are bleeding fresh?Ile not intombe them till I haue reueng'd:Then will I ioy amidst my discontent,Till then, my sorrow neuer shalbe spent.ISA. The heauens are iust, murder cannot be hid;Time is the author of both truth and right,And time will bring this trecherie to light.HIERO. Meane-while, good Isabella, cease thy plaints,Or, at the least, dissemble them awhile;So shall we sooner finde the practise out,And learne by whome all this was brought about.Come, Isabell, now let vs take him vp.They take him vp.And beare him in from out this cursed place.Ile say his dirge,—singing fits not this case.O aliquis mihi quas pulchrum ver educet herbasHIERO[NIMO] sets his brest vnto his sword.Misceat, et nostro detur medicina dolori;Aut siqui faciunt annorum obliuia succosPrebeat; ipse metam megnum quaecunque per orbemGramina sol pulchras eiecit lucis in oras.Ipse bibam quicquid meditatur saga veneni,Quicquid et irarum ui caeca nenia nectit.Omnia perpetiar, lethum quoque, dum semel omnisNost in extincto moriatur pectore sensus.Ergo tua perpetuus speeliuit limunia somnus?Emoriar tecum: sic, sic iuuat ire sub vmbras!Attamen absistam properato cedere letho,Ne mortem vindicta tuam tum nulla sequatur.Heere he throwes it from him and beares thebody away.[CHORUS.]ANDREA. Broughtst thou me hether to increase my paine?I lookt that Balthazar should haue been slaine;But tis my freend Horatio that is slaine,And they abuse faire Bel-imperia,On whom I doted more then all the world,Because she lou'd me more then all the world.REUENGE. Thou talkest of haruest, when the corne is greene;The end is [growne] of euery worke well done;The sickle comes not till the corne be ripe.Be still, and, ere I lead thee from this place,Ile shew thee Balthazar in heauy case.
[The Portuguese court.]Enter VICEROY OF PORTINGALE, NOBLES, ALEXANDRO,VILLUPPO.VICEROY. Infortunate condition of kings,Seated amidst so many helples doubts!First,we are plast vpon extreamest height,And oft supplanted with exceeding hate,But euer subiect to the wheele of chance;And at our highest neuer ioy we soAs we doubt and dread our ouerthrow.So striueth not the waues with sundry windsAs fortune toyleth in the affaires of kings,That would be feard, yet feare to be beloued,Sith feare and loue to kings is flatterie.For instance, lordings, look vpon your king,By hate depriued of his dearest sonne,The only hope of our successiue line.NOB. I had not thought that Alexandros hartHad beene enuenomde with such extreame hate;But now I see that words haue seuerall workes,And theres no credit in the countenance.VIL. No, for, my lord, had you beholde the traineThat fained loue had coloured in his lookesWhen he in campe consorted Balthazar,Farre more inconstant had you thought the sunne,That howerly coasts the center of the earth,Then Alexandros purpose to the prince.VICE. No more, Villuppo! thou hast said enough,And with thy words thou saiest our wounded thoughts.Nor shall I longer dally with the world,Procrastinating Alexandros death.Goe, some of you, and fetch the traitor forth,That, as he is condemned, he may dye.Enter ALEXANDRO, with a NOBLE-MAN andHALBERTS.NOB. In such extreames will nought but patience serue.ALEX. But in extreames what patience shall I vse?Nor discontents it me to leaue the world,With whome there nothing can preuaile but wrong.NOB. Yet hope the best.ALEX. Tis heauen my hope:As for the earth, it is too much infectTo yeeld me hope of any of her mould.VICE. Why linger ye? bring froth that daring feend,And let him die for his accursed deed.ALEX. Not that I feare the extremitie of death—For nobles cannot stoop to seruile feare—Doo I, O king, thus discontented liue;But this, O this, torments my labouring soule,That thus I die suspected of a sinneWhereof, as Heauens haue knowne my secret thoughts,So am I free from this suggestion!VICE. No more, I say; to the tortures! when?Binde him, and burne his body in those flames,They binde him to the stake.That shall prefigure those vnquenched fiersOf Phlegiton prepared for his soule.ALEX. My guiltles death will be aueng'd on thee!On thee, Villuppo, that hath malisde thus,Or for thy meed hast falsely me accusde!VIL. Nay, Alexandro, if thou menace me,Ile lend a hand to send thee to the lakeWhere those thy words shall perish with thy workes,Iniurious traitour, monstrous homicide!Enter EMBASSADOUR.[EM.] Stay! hold a-while! and heer, with pardon ofHis Maiestie, lay hands vpon Villuppo!VICE. Embassadour, what newes nath vrg'd this sodainentrance?EM. Know, soueraigne l[ord], that Balthazar doth liue.VICE. What saiest thou? liueth Balthazar, our sonne?EM. Your Highnes sonne, L[ord] Balthazar doth liue,And, well intreated in the court of Spaine,Humbly commends him to your Maiestie.These eies beheld; and these my followers,With these, the letters of the kings commend,Giues him lettersAre happie witnesses of his Highnes health.The KING lookes on the letters, and proceeds.VICE. [reads] "Thy sonne doth liue; your tribute is receiu'd;Thy peace is made, and we are satisfied.The rest resolue vpon as things proposdeFor both our honors and they benefite."EM. These are his Highnes farther articles.He giues him more letters.VICE. Accursed wrech to intimate these illsAgainst the life and reputationOf noble Alexandro! come, my lord, vnbinde him![To ALEXANDRO] Let him vnbinde thee that is bounde to death,To make a quitall for thy discontent.They vnbinde him.ALEX. Dread lord, in kindnes you could do no lesse,Vpon report of such a damned fact;But thus we see our innocence hath sau'dThe hopeles like which thou, Villuppo, soughtBy thy suggestions to haue massacred.VICE. Say, false Villuppo, wherefore didst thou thusFalsely betray Lord Alexandros life?Him whom thou knowest that no vnkindenes elsBut euen the slaughter of our deerest sonneCould once haue moued vs to haue misconceaued.ALEX. Say, trecherous Villuppo; tell the King!Or wherein hath Alexandro vsed thee ill?VIL. Rent with remembrance of so foule a deed,My guiltie soule submits me to thy doome,For, not for Alexandros iniuries,But for reward and hope to be preferd,Thus haue I shamelesly hazarded his life.VICE. Which, villaine, shalbe ransomed with thy death,And not so meane a torment as we heereDeuised for him who thou saidst slew our sonne,But with the bitterest torments and extreamesThat may be yet inuented for thine end.ALEX[ANDRO] seemes to intreat.Intreat me not! Goe, take the traitor hence!Exit VILLUPPO.And, Alexandro, let vs honor theeWith publique notice of thy loyaltie.To end those things articulated heereBy our great l[ord], the mightie king of Spaine,We with our councell will deliberate.Come, Alexandro, keepe vs company.Exeunt.
[Spain: near the DUKE's castle.]Enter HIERONIMO.HIERO. Oh eies! no eies but fountains fraught with teares;Oh life! no life, but liuely fourme of death;Oh world! no world, but masse of publique wrongs,Confusde and filde with murder and misdeeds;Oh sacred heauens, if this vnhallowed deed,If this inhumane and barberous attempt,If this incomparable murder thusOf mine, but now no more my sonneShall pass vnreueald and vnreuenged passe,How should we tearme your dealings to be iust,If you vniustly deale with those that in your iustice trust?The night, sad secretary to my mones,With direfull visions wake my vexed soule,And with the wounds of my distresfull sonneSolicite me for notice of his death;The ougly feends do sally forth of hell,And frame my hart with fierce inflamed thoughts;The cloudie day my discontents records,Early begins to regester my dreamesAnd driue me forth to seeke the murtherer.Eies, life, world, heauens, hel, night and day,See, search, show, send, some man, some meane, that may!A letter falleth.Whats heere? a letter? Tush, it is not so!A letter for Hieronimo.[Reads] "For want of incke receiue this bloudie writ.Me hath my haples brother hid from thee.Reuenge thy-selfe on Balthazar and him,For these were they that murdered thy sonne.Hieronimo, reuenge Horatios death,And better fare then Bel-imperia doth!"—What meanes this vnexpected miracle?My sonne slaine by Lorenzo and the prince?What cause had they Horatio to maligne?Or what might mooue thee, Bel-imperia,To accuse they brother, had he beene the meane?Hieronimo, beware! thou art betraide,And to intrap they life this traine is laide.Aduise thee therefore, be not credulous:This is deuised to endanger thee,That thou, by this, Lorenzo shoulst accuse.And he, for thy dishonour done, show drawThy life in question and thy name in hate.Deare was the life of my beloved sonne,And of his death behoues me to be aueng'd:Then hazard not thine own, Hieronimo,But liue t'effect thy resolution!I therefore will by circumstances trieWhat I can gather to confirme this writ,And, [harken] neere the Duke of Castiles house,Close if I can with Belimperia,To listen more, but nothing to bewray.Enter PEDRINGANO.Now, Predringano!PED. Now, Hieronimo!HIERO. Wheres thy lady?PED. I know not; heers my lord.Enter LORENZO.LOR. How now, whose this? Hieronimo?HIERO. My lord.PED. He asketh me for my lady Bel-imperia.LOR. What to doo, Hieronimo? Vse me.
[Dialogue from the undated and the 'A' manuscript.]
HIERO. Oh, no, my lord, I dare not, it must not be;I humbly thank your lordship.
[End of insertion.]
[Dialogue from the 1618, 1623, and 1633 editions.]
HIERO. Who? You, my lord?I reserue your favour for a greater honour;This is a very toy, my lord, a toy.LOR. All's one, Hieronimo; acquaint me with it.HIERO. Y faith, my lord, tis an idle thing.I must confesse I ha bin too slacke, too tardy,To remisse vnto your Honour.LOR. How now, Hieronimo?HIERO. In troth, my lord, it is a thing of nothing:The murder of a sonne or so, my lord,—A thing of nothing.
[End of insertion.]
LOR. Why then, farewell!HIERO. My griefe in hart, my thoughts no tung can tell.Exit.LOR. Come hither, Pedringano; seest thou this?PED. My lord, I see it, and suspect it too.LOR. This is that damned villain Serberine,That hath, I feare, reuealde Horatios death.PED. My lord, he could not; twas so lately done,And since he hath not left my company.LOR. Admit he haue not; his conditions suchAs feare or flattering words may make him false.I know his humour, and there-with repentThat ere I vsde him in this enterprise.But, Pedringano, to preuent the worst,And cause I know thee secret as my soule,Heere, for thy further satisfaction, take thou this!Giues him more golde.And harken to me; thus it is deuisde:This night thou must—and prithee so resoule—Meet Serberine at St. Luigis Parke,—Thou knowest tis heere hard by behinde the house;There take thy stand, and see thou strike him sure,For dye he must, if we do meane to liue.PED. But how shall Serberine be there, my lord?LOR. Let me alone, Ile send him to meetThe prince and me where thou must doe this deed.PED. It shalbe done, my l[ord]; it shall be done;And Ile goe arme my-selfe to meet him there.LOR. When things shall alter, as I hope they wil,Then shalt thou mount for this, thou knowest my minde.Exit PED[RINGANO].Che le Ieron!Enter PAGE.PAGE. My lord.LOR. Goe, sirra,To Serberine, and bid him forthwith meetThe prince and me at S. Luigis Parke,Behinde the house, this euening, boy.PAGE. I goe, my lord.LOR. But, sirra, let the houre be eight a-clocke.Bid him not faile.PAGE. I flye, my lord.Exit.LOR. Now to confirme the complot thou hast castOf all these practices, Ile spread the watch,Vpon precise commandement from the kingStrongly to guard the place where PedringanoThis night shall murder haples Serberine.Thus must we worke that will auoide distrust,Thus must we practice to preuent mishap,And thus one ill another must expulse.This slie enquiry of HieronimoFor Bel-imperia, breeds suspition;And [thus] suspition boads a further ill.As for my-selfe, I know my secret fault,And so doe they, but I haue dealt for them.They that for coine their soules endangeredTo saue my life, for coyne shall venture theirs;And better tis that base companions dyeThen by their life to hazard our good haps.Nor shall they liue for me to feare their faith;Ile trust my-selfe, my-selfe shall be my freend;For dye they shall,—Slaues are ordein[e]d to no other end.Exit.
[San Luigi's Park.]Enter PEDRINGANO with a pistoll.PED. Now, Pedringano, bid thy pistoll holde;And holde on, Fortune! Once more fauour me!Giue but successe to mine attempting spirit,And let me shift for taking of mine aime.Heere is the golde! This is the golde proposde!It is no dreame that I aduenture for,But Pedringano is possest thereof.And he that would not straine his conscienceFor him that thus his liberall purse hath sretcht,Vnworthy such a fauour may he faile,And, wishing, want when such as I preuaile!As for the feare of apprehension,I know, if need should be, my noble lordWill stand betweene me and ensuing harmes.Besides, this place is free from all suspect.Heere therefore will I stay and take my stand.Enter the WATCH.I WATCH. I wonder much to what intent it isThat we are thus expresly chargd to watch.II WATCH. This by commandement in the kings ownname.III WATCH. But we were neuer wont to watch and wardSo neere the duke his brothers house before.II WATCH. Content your-selfe, stand close, theres somewhatint.Enter SERBERINE.SER. [aside] Heere, Serberine, attend and stay thy pace;For heere did Don Lorenzos page appointThat thou by his command shouldst meet with him.How fit a place, if one were so disposde,Me thinks this corner is to close with one.PED. [aside] Heere comes the bird that I must ceaze vpon;Now, Pedringano, or neuer play the man!SER. [aside] I wonder that his lordship staies so long,Or wherefore should he send for me so late.PED. For this, Serberine; and thou shalt ha'te!Shootes the dagge.So, there he lyes; my promise is performde.The WATCH.I WATCH. Harke, gentlemen, this is a pistol shot!II WATCH. And heeres one slaine; stay the murderer!PED. Now, by the sorrowes of the soules in hell,He striues with the WATCH.Who first laies hands on me, Ile be his priest!III WATCH. Sirra, confesse, and therein play the priest.Why hast thou thus vnkindely kild the man?PED. Why, because he walkt abroad so late.III WATCH. Come sir, you had bene better kept your bedThen haue committed this misdeed so late.II WATCH. Come to the marshalls with the murderer!I WATCH. On to Hieronimos! helpe me heereTo bring the murdred body with vs too.PED. Hieronimo? Carry me before whom you will;What ere he be, Ile answere him and you.And doe your worst, for I defie you all!Exeunt.
[The DUKE's castle]Enter LORENZO and BALTHAZAR.BAL. How now, my lord? what makes you rise so soone?LOR. Feare of preuenting our mishaps too late.BAL. What mischiefe is it that we not mistrust?LOR. Our greatest ils we least mistrust, my lord,And [unexpected] harmes do hurt vs most.BAL. Why, tell me, Don Lorenz,—tell me, man,If ought concernes our honor and your owne!LOR. Nor you nor me, my lord, but both in one;But I suspect—and the presumptions great—That by those base confederates in our faultTouching the death of Don HoratioWe are all betraide to olde Hieronimo.BAL. Betraide, Lorenzo? tush! it cannot be.LOR. A guiltie conscience vrged with the thoughtOf former euils, easily cannot erre:I am perswaded—and diswade me not—That als reuealed to Hieronimo.And therefore know that I haue cast it thus—[Enter PAGE.]But heeres the page. How now? what newes with thee?PAGE. My lord, Serberine is slaine.BAL. Who? Serberine, my man?PAGE. Your Highnes man, my lord.LOR. Speak, page: who murdered him?PAGE. He that is apprehended for the fact.LOR. Who?PAGE. Pedringano.BAL. Is Serberine slaine, that lou'd his lord so well?Iniurious villaine! murderer of his freend!LOR. Hath Pedringano murdered Serberine?My lord, let me entreat you to take the painesTo exasperate and hasten his reuengeWith your complaints vnto my l[ord] the king.This their dissention breeds a greater doubt.BAL. Assure thee, Don Lorenzo, he shall dye,Or els his Highnes hardly shall deny.Meane-while, Ile haste the marshall sessions,For die he shall for this damned deed.Exit BALT[HAZAR].LOR. [aside] Why, so! this fits our former pollicie;And thus experience bids the wise and deale.I lay the plot, he prosecutes the point;I set the trap, he breakes the worthles twigs,And sees not that wherewith the bird was limde.Thus hopefull men, that means to holde their owne,Must look, like fowlers, to their dearest freends.He runnes to kill whome I haue hope to catch,And no man knowes it was my reaching [fetch].Tis hard to trust vnto a multitude,—Or any one, in mine opinion,When men themselues their secrets will reueale.Enter a MESSENGER with a letter.LOR. Boy.PAGE. My lord.LOR. Whats he?MES. I haue a letter to your lordship.LOR. From whence?MES. From Pedringanos that's imprisoned.LOR. So he is in prison then?MES. I, my good lord.LOR. What would he with vs?[Reads the letter.]He writes vs heereTo stand good l[ord] and help him in distres.Tell him I haue his letters, know his minde;And what we may, let him assure him of.Fellow, be gone; my boy shall follow thee.Exit MES[SENGER].[Aside] This works like waxe! Yet once more try thy wits.—Boy, goe conuay this purse to Pedringano,—Thou knowest the prison,—closely giue it him,And be aduisde that none here there-about.Bid him be merry still, but secret;And, though the marshall sessions be to-day,Bid him not doubt of his deliuerie.Tell him his pardon is already signde,And thereon bid him boldely be resolued;For, were he ready to be turned off,—As tis my will the vttermost be tride,—Thou with his pardon shalt attend him still.Shew him this boxe, tell him his pardons int;But opent not, and if thou louest thy life,But let him wisely keepe his hopes vnknowne.He shall not want while Don Lorenzo liues.Away!PAGE. I goe, my lord, I runne!LOR. But, sirra, see that this be cleanely done.Exit PAGE.Now stands our fortune on a tickle point,And now or neuer ends Lorenzos doubts.One only thing is vneffected yet,And thats to see the executioner,—But to what end? I list not trust the aireWith vtterance of our pretence therein,For feare the priuie whispring of the windeConuay our words amongst vnfreendly eares,That lye too open to aduantages.Et quel che voglio io, nessun lo sa,Intendo io quel [che] mi bastera.Exit.
[A street.]Enter BOY with the boxe.[BOY.] My maister hath forbidden me to look in this box, and, bymy troth, tis likely, if he had not warned me, I should not haue had somuch idle time; for wee [men-kinde] in our minoritie are like women intheir vncertaintie; that they are most forbidden, they wil soonestattempt; so I now. By my bare honesty, heeres nothing but the bareemptie box! Were it not sin against secrecie, I would say it were apeece of gentlemanlike knauery. I must goe to Pedringano and tell himhis pardon is in this boxe! Nay, I would haue sworne it, had I notseene the contrary. I cannot choose but smile to thinke how the villainwil flout the gallowes, scorne the audience, and descant on the hangman,and all presuming of his pardon from hence. Wilt not be an odde iest,for me to stand and grace euery iest he makes, pointing my figner atthis boxe, as who [should] say: "Mock on, heers thy warrant!" Ist nota scuruie iest that a man should iest himselfe to death? Alas, poorPedringano! I am in a sorte sorie for thee, but, if I should be hangedwith thee, I [could not] weep.Exit.
[The court of justice.]Enter HIERONIMO and the DEPUTIE.HIERO. Thus must we toyle in others mens extreamesThat know not how to rememdie our owne,And doe them iusties, when vniustly weFor all our wrongs can compasse no redrese.But shall I neuer liue to see the dayThat I may come by iustice to the HeauensTo know the cause that may my cares allay?This toyles my body, this consumeth age,That onley I to all men iust must be,And neither gods nor men be iust to me!DEP. Worthy Hieronimo, your office askesA care to punish such as doe transgresse.HIERO. So ist my duety to regarde his deathWho when he liued deserued my dearest blood.But come; for that we came for, lets begin;For heere lyes that which bids me to be gone.Enter OFFICERS, BOY, & PEDRINGANO with a letterin his hand, bound.DEPU. Bring forth the prisoner for the court is set.PED. Gramercy, boy! but it was time to come,For I had written to my lord anewA neerer matter that concerneth him,For feare his lordship had forgotten me;But, sith he hath rememberd me so well,Come, come, come on! when shall we to this geere?HIERO. Stand forth, thou monster, murderer of men,And heere, for satisfaction of the world,Confesse thy folly and repent thy fault,For ther's thy place of execution.PED. This is short worke! Well, to your martiallshipFirst I confesse, nor feare I death therefore,I am the man,—twas I slew Serberine.But, sir, then you think this shalbe the placeWhere we shall satisfie you for this geare?DEPU. I, Pedrigano.PED. No I think not so.HEIRO. Peace, impudent! for thou shalt finde it so;For blood with blood shall, while I sit as iudge,Be satisfied, and the law dischargde.And, though my-selfe cannot receiue the like,Yet will I see that others haue their right.Dispatch! the fault approued and confest,And by our law he is condemned to die.HANG. Come on, sir! are you ready?PED. To do what, my fine officious knaue?HANG. To goe to this geere.PED. O, sir, you are to forward; thou woulst fainefurnish me with a halter, to disfurnish me of my habit.So should I goe out of this geere, my raiment, into thatgeere, the rope. But, hangman, now I spy your knauery, Ilenot change without boot; thats flat.HANG. Come, sir.PED. So then I must vp?HANG. No remedie.PED. Yes, but there shalbe for my comming downe.HANG. Indeed heers a remedie for that.PED. How? be turnd off?HANG. I, truly. Come, are you ready?I pray [you], sir, dispatch, the day goes away.PED. What, doe you hang by the howre? If you doo, Imay chance to break your olde custome.HANG. Faith, you haue [no] reason, for I am like to breakyour yong neck.PED. Dost thou mock me, hangman? Pray God I be notpreserued to break your knaues-pate for this!HANG. Alas, sir, you are a foot too low to reach it, and Ihope you will neuer grow so high while I am in office.PED. Sirra, dost see yonder boy with the box in hishand?HANG. What, he that points to it with his finger?PED. I, that companion.HANG. I know him not; but what of him?PED. Doost thou think to liue till his olde doublet willmake thee a new truss?HANG. I, and many a faire yeere after, to trusse vp manyan honester man then either thou or he.PED. What hath he in his boxe, as thou thinkst?HANG. Faith, I cannot tell, nor I care not greatly.Me thinks you should rather hearken to your soules health.PED. Why, sirra hangman, I take it that that is good forthe body is likewise good for the soule: and it may be inthat box is balme for both.HANG. Wel, thou art euen the meriest peece of mansflesh that ere gronde at my office-doore.PED. Is your roaguery become an office, with a knauesname?HANG. I, and that shall all they witnes that see you sealeit with a theeues name.PED. I prithee, request this good company to pray [for]me.HANG. I, mary, sir, this is a good motion! My maisters,you see heers a good fellow.PED. Nay, nay, now I remember me, let them alone tillsome other time; for now I haue no great need.HIERO. I haue not seen a wretch so impudent.O monstrous times where murders are so light,And where the soule that should be shrinde in heauenSolelie delights in interdicted things,Still wandring in the thornie passagesThat intercepts it-selfe of hapines!Murder? O bloudy monster! God forbidA fault so foule should scape vnpunished!Dispatch and see this execution done;This makes me to remember thee, my sonne.Exit HIERO[NIMO].PED. Nay, soft! no hast!DEPU. Why, wherefore stay you? haue you hope of life?PED. Why, I?HANG. As how?PED. Why, rascall, by my pardon from the king.HANG. Stand you on that? then you shall off with this.He turnes him off.DEPU. So, executioner, conuey him hence;But let his body be vnburied.Let not the earth be chokt or infectWhat that which Heauens contemnes and men neglect.Exeunt.