[The Portuguese court.]
Enter VICEROY OF PORTINGAL, NOBLES, ALEXANDRO, VILLUPPO.
VICEROY. Infortunate condition of kings,Seated amidst so many helpless doubts!First, we are plac'd upon extremest height,And oft supplanted with exceeding hate,But ever subject to the wheel of chance;And at our highest never joy we soAs we doubt and dread our overthrow.So striveth not the waves with sundry windsAs fortune toileth in the affairs of kings,That would be fear'd, yet fear to be belov'd,Sith fear and love to kings is flattery.For instance, lordings, look upon your king,By hate deprived of his dearest son,The only hope of our successive line.
NOB. I had not thought that Alexandro's heartHad been envenom'd with such extreme hate;But now I see that words have several works,And there's no credit in the countenance.
VIL. No, for, my lord, had you beheld the trainThat feigned love had colour'd in his looksWhen he in camp consorted Balthazar,Far more inconstant had you thought the sun,That hourly coasts the center of the earth,Then Alexandro's purpose to the prince.
VICE. No more, Villuppo! thou hast said enough,And with thy words thou slay'st our wounded thoughts.Nor shall I longer dally with the world,Procrastinating Alexandro's death.Go, some of you, and fetch the traitor forth,That, as he is condemned, he may die.
Enter ALEXANDRO, with a NOBLE-MAN andHALBERTS.
NOB. In such extremes will nought but patience serve.
ALEX. But in extremes what patience shall I use?Nor discontents it me to leave the world,With whom there nothing can prevail but wrong.
NOB. Yet hope the best.
ALEX. 'Tis heav'n is my hope:As for the earth, it is too much infectTo yield me hope of any of her mould.
VICE. Why linger ye? bring forth that daring fiend,And let him die for his accursed deed.
ALEX. Not that I fear the extremity of death—For nobles cannot stoop to servile fear—Do I, O king, thus discontented live;But this, O this, torments my labouring soul,That thus I die suspected of a sinWhereof, as Heav'ns have known my secret thoughts,So am I free from this suggestion!
VICE. No more, I say; to the tortures! when?Bind him, and burn his body in those flames,
They bind him to the stake.
That shall prefigure those unquenched firesOf Phlegethon prepared for his soul.
ALEX. My guiltless death will be aveng'd on thee!On thee, Villuppo, that hath malice'd thus,Or for thy meed hast falsely me accus'd!
VIL. Nay, Alexandro, if thou menace me,I'll lend a hand to send thee to the lakeWhere those thy words shall perish with thy works,Injurious traitor, monstrous homicide!
Enter AMBASSADOR.
AMBASS. Stay! hold a-while!And here, with pardon of his Majesty,Lay hands upon Villuppo!
VICE. Ambassador,What news hath urg'd this sudden enterance?
AMBASS. Know, sovereign lord, that Balthazar doth live.
VICE. What say'st thou? liveth Balthazar, our son?
AMBASS. Your Highness' son, Lord Balthazar doth live,And, well entreated in the court of Spain,Humbly commends him to your Majesty.These eyes beheld; and these my followers,With these, the letters of the king's commends,
Gives him letters.
Are happy witnesses of his Highness' health.
The KING looks on the letters, and proceeds.
VICE. [reads] "Thy son doth live; your tribute is receiv'd;Thy peace is made, and we are satisfied.The rest resolve upon as things propos'dFor both our honours and thy benefit."
AMBASS. These are his Highness' farther articles.
He gives him more letters.
VICE. Accursed wretch to intimate these illsAgainst the life and reputationOf noble Alexandro! come, my lord, unbind him![To ALEXANDRO] Let him unbind thee that is bound to death,To make acquittal for thy discontent.
They unbind him.
ALEX. Dread lord, in kindness you could do no less,Upon report of such a damned fact;But thus we see our innocence hath sav'dThe hopeless life which thou, Villuppo, soughtBy thy suggestions to have massacred.
VICE. Say, false Villuppo, wherefore didst thou thusFalsely betray Lord Alexandro's life?Him whom thou know'st that no unkindness elseBut even the slaughter of our dearest sonCould once have mov'd us to have misconceiv'd.
ALEX. Say, treacherous Villuppo; tell the King!Or wherein hath Alexandro us'd thee ill?
VIL. Rent with remembrance of so foul a deed,My guilty soul submits me to thy doom,For, not for Alexandro's injuries,But for reward and hope to be prefer'd,Thus have I shamelessly hazarded his life.
VICE. Which, villain, shall be ransom'd with thy death,And not so mean a torment as we hereDevis'd for him who thou said'st slew our son,But with the bitterest torments and extremesThat may be yet invented for thine end.
ALEXANDRO seems to entreat.
Entreat me not! Go, take the traitor hence!
Exit VILLUPPO.
And, Alexandro, let us honour theeWith public notice of thy loyalty.To end those things articulated hereBy our great lord, the mighty king of Spain,We with our council will deliberate.Come, Alexandro, keep us company.
Exeunt.
[Spain: near the DUKE's castle.]
Enter HIERONIMO.
HIERO. Oh eyes! no eyes but fountains fraught with tears;Oh life! no life, but lively form of death;Oh world! no world, but mass of public wrongs,Confus'd and fill'd with murder and misdeeds;Oh sacred heav'ns, if this unhallow'd deed,If this inhuman and barbarous attempt,If this incomparable murder thusOf mine, but now no more my son shall pass,Unreveal'd and unrevenged pass,How should we term your dealings to be just,If you unjustly deal with those that in your justice trust?The night, sad secretary to my moans,With direful visions wake my vexed soul,And with the wounds of my distressful sonSolicit me for notice of his death;The ugly fiends do sally forth of hell,And frame my heart with fierce inflamed thoughts;The cloudy day my discontents records,Early begins to register my dreamsAnd drive me forth to seek the murderer.Eyes, life, world, heav'ns, hell, night and day,See, search, show, send, some man, some mean, that may—
A letter falleth.
What's here? a letter? Tush, it is not so!A letter for Hieronimo.[Reads] "For want of ink receive this bloody writ.Me hath my hapless brother hid from thee.Revenge thyself on Balthazar and him,For these were they that murdered thy son.Hieronimo, revenge Horatio's death,And better fare then Bel-imperia doth!"—What means this unexpected miracle?My son slain by Lorenzo and the prince?What cause had they Horatio to malign?Or what might move thee, Bel-imperia,To accuse thy brother, had he been the mean?Hieronimo, beware! thou art betray'd,And to entrap thy life this train is laid.Advise thee therefore, be not credulous:This is devised to endanger thee,That thou, by this, Lorenzo should'st accuse.And he, for thy dishonour done, should drawThy life in question and thy name in hate.Dear was the life of my beloved son,And of his death behooves me be aveng'd:Then hazard not thine own, Hieronimo,But live t'effect thy resolution!I therefore will by circumstances tryWhat I can gather to confirm this writ,And, harken near the Duke of Castile's house,Close if I can with Bel-imperia,To listen more, but nothing to bewray.
Enter PEDRINGANO.
Now, Pedringano!
PED. Now, Hieronimo!
HIERO. Where's thy lady?
PED. I know not; here's my lord.
Enter LORENZO.
LOR. How now, who's this? Hieronimo?
HIERO. My lord.
PED. He asketh for my lady Bel-imperia.
LOR. What to do, Hieronimo? Use me.
HIERO. Oh, no, my lord, I dare not, it must not be;I humbly thank your lordship.
LOR. Why then, farewell!
HIERO. My grief no heart, my thoughts no tongue can tell.
Exit.
LOR. Come hither, Pedringano; see'st thou this?
PED. My lord, I see it, and suspect it too.
LOR. This is that damned villain Serberine,That hath, I fear, reveal'd Horatio's death.
PED. My lord, he could not; 'twas so lately done,And since he hath not left my company.
LOR. Admit he have not; his conditions suchAs fear or flattering words may make him false.I know his humour, and therewith repentThat e'er I us'd him in this enterprise.But, Pedringano, to prevent the worst,And 'cause I know thee secret as my soul,Here, for thy further satisfaction, take thou this!
Gives him more gold.
And hearken to me; thus it is devis'd:This night thou must—and prithee so resolve—Meet Serberine at St. Luigi's Park,—Thou knowest 'tis here hard by behind the house;There take thy stand, and see thou strike him sure,For die he must, if we do mean to live.
PED. But how shall Serberine be there, my lord?
LOR. Let me alone, I'll send him to meetThe prince and me where thou must do this deed.
PED. It shall be done, my lord; it shall be done;And I'll go arm myself to meet him there.
LOR. When things shall alter, as I hope they will,Then shalt thou mount for this, thou knowest my mind.
Exit PEDRINGANO.
Che le Ieron!
Enter PAGE.
PAGE. My lord.
LOR. Go, sirrah,To Serberine, and bid him forthwith meetThe prince and me at S. Luigi's Park,Behind the house, this evening, boy.
PAGE. I go, my lord.
LOR. But, sirrah, let the hour be eight o'clock.Bid him not fail.
PAGE. I fly, my lord.
Exit.
LOR. Now to confirm the complot thou hast castOf all these practices, I'll spread the watch,Upon precise commandment from the kingStrongly to guard the place where PedringanoThis night shall murder hapless Serberine.Thus must we work that will avoid distrust,Thus must we practice to prevent mishap,And thus one ill another must expulse.This sly enquiry of HieronimoFor Bel-imperia breeds suspicion;And this suspicion bodes a further ill.As for myself, I know my secret fault,And so do they, but I have dealt for them.They that for coin their souls endangeredTo save my life, for coin shall venture theirs;And better 'tis that base companions dieThan by their life to hazard our good haps.Nor shall they live for me to fear their faith;I'll trust myself, myself shall be my friend;For die they shall,—Slaves are ordain'd to no other end.
Exit.
[San Luigi's Park.]
Enter PEDRINGANO with a pistol.
PED. Now, Pedringano, bid thy pistol hold;And hold on, Fortune! Once more favour me!Give but success to mine attempting spirit,And let me shift for taking of mine aim.Here is the gold! This is the gold propos'd!It is no dream that I adventure for,But Pedringano is posses'd thereof.And he that would not strain his conscienceFor him that thus his liberal purse hath stretch'd,Unworthy such a favour, may he fail,And, wishing, want, when such as I prevail!As for the fear of apprehension,I know, if need should be, my noble lordWill stand between me and ensuing harms.Besides, this place is free from all suspect.Here therefore will I stay and take my stand.
Enter the WATCH.
I WATCH. I wonder much to what intent it isThat we are thus expressly charg'd to watch.
II WATCH. This by commandment in the king's ownname.
III WATCH. But we were never wont to watch and wardSo near the duke his brother's house before.
II WATCH. Content yourself, stand close, there's somewhatin't.
Enter SERBERINE.
SER. [aside] Here, Serberine, attend and stay thy pace;For here did Don Lorenzo's page appointThat thou by his command shouldst meet with him.How fit a place, if one were so dispos'd,Methinks this corner is to close with one.
PED. [aside] Here comes the bird that I must seize upon;Now, Pedringano, or never play the man!
SER. [aside] I wonder that his lordship stays so long,Or wherefore should he send for me so late.
PED. For this, Serberine; and thou shalt ha't!
Shoots.
So, there he lies; my promise is perform'd.
The WATCH.
I WATCH. Hark, gentlemen, this is a pistol shot!
II WATCH. And here's one slain; stay the murderer!
PED. Now, by the sorrows of the souls in hell,
He strives with the WATCH.
Who first lays hands on me, I'll be his priest!
III WATCH. Sirrah, confess, and therein play the priest.Why hast thou thus unkindly kill'd the man?
PED. Why, because he walk'd abroad so late.
III WATCH. Come sir, you had been better kept your bedThen have committed this misdeed so late.
II WATCH. Come to the marshall's with the murderer!
I WATCH. On to Hieronimo's! help me hereTo bring the murder'd body with us too.
PED. Hieronimo? Carry me before whom you will;What e'er he be, I'll answer him and you.And do your worst, for I defy you all!
Exeunt.
[The DUKE's castle]
Enter LORENZO and BALTHAZAR.
BAL. How now, my lord? what makes you rise so soon?
LOR. Fear of preventing our mishaps too late.
BAL. What mischief is it that we not mistrust?
LOR. Our greatest ills we least mistrust, my lord,And unexpected harms do hurt us most.
BAL. Why, tell me, Don Lorenz,—tell me, man,If aught concerns our honour and your own!
LOR. Nor you nor me, my lord, but both in one;But I suspect—and the presumptions great—That by those base confed'rates in our faultTouching the death of Don HoratioWe are all betray'd to old Hieronimo.
BAL. Betray'd, Lorenzo? tush! it cannot be.
LOR. A guilty conscience urged with the thoughtOf former evils, easily cannot err:I am persuaded—and dissuade me not—That all's revealed to Hieronimo.And therefore know that I have cast it thus—
[Enter PAGE.]
But here's the page. How now? what news with thee?
PAGE. My lord, Serberine is slain.
BAL. Who? Serberine, my man?
PAGE. Your Highness' man, my lord.
LOR. Speak, page: who murder'd him?
PAGE. He that is apprehended for the fact.
LOR. Who?
PAGE. Pedringano.
BAL. Is Serberine slain, that lov'd his lord so well?Injurious villain! murd'rer of his friend!
LOR. Hath Pedringano murder'd Serberine?My lord, let me entreat you to take the painsTo exasperate and hasten his revengeWith your complaints unto my lord the king.This their dissension breeds a greater doubt.
BAL. Assure thee, Don Lorenzo, he shall die,Or else his Highness hardly shall deny.Meanwhile, I'll haste the marshall sessions,For die he shall for this his damned deed.
Exit BALTHAZAR.
LOR. [aside] Why, so! this fits our former policy;And thus experience bids the wise and deal.I lay the plot, he prosecutes the point;I set the trap, he breaks the worthless twigs,And sees not that wherewith the bird was lim'd.Thus hopeful men, that means to hold their own,Must look, like fowlers, to their dearest friends.He runs to kill whom I have holp to catch,And no man knows it was my reaching fetch.'Tis hard to trust unto a multitude,—Or any one, in mine opinion,When men themselves their secrets will reveal.
Enter a MESSENGER with a letter.
LOR. Boy.
PAGE. My lord.
LOR. What's he?
MES. I have a letter to your lordship.
LOR. From whence?
MES. From Pedringano that's imprison'd.
LOR. So he is in prison then?
MES. Aye, my good lord.
LOR. What would he with us?
[Reads the letter.]
He writes us hereTo stand good lord and help him in distress.Tell him I have his letters, know his mind;And what we may, let him assure him of.Fellow, be gone; my boy shall follow thee.
Exit MESSENGER.
[Aside] This works like wax! Yet once more try thy wits.—Boy, go convey this purse to Pedringano,—Thou know'st the prison,—closely give it him,And be advis'd that none be thereabout.Bid him be merry still, but secret;And, though the marshall sessions be today,Bid him not doubt of his delivery.Tell him his pardon is already sign'd,And thereon bid him boldly be resolv'd;For, were he ready to be turned off,—As 'tis my will the uttermost be tried,—Thou with his pardon shalt attend him still.Show him this box, tell him his pardon's in't;But open't not, and if thou lov'st thy life,But let him wisely keep his hopes unknown.He shall not want while Don Lorenzo lives.Away!
PAGE. I go, my lord, I run!
LOR. But, sirrah, see that this be cleanly done.
Exit PAGE.
Now stands our fortune on a tickle point,And now or never ends Lorenzo's doubts.One only thing is uneffected yet,And that's to see the executioner,—But to what end? I list not trust the airWith utterance of our pretence therein,For fear the privy whisp'ring of the windConvey our words amongst unfriendly ears,That lie too open to advantages.Et quel che voglio io, nessun lo sa,Intendo io quel mi bastera.
Exit.
[A street.]
Enter BOY with the box.
[BOY.] My master hath forbidden me to look in this box, and, by my troth, 'tis likely, if he had not warned me, I should not have had so much idle time; for we men-kind in our minority are like women in their uncertainty; that they are most forbidden, they will soonest attempt; so I now. By my bare honesty, here's nothing but the bare empty box! Were it not sin against secrecy, I would say it were a piece of gentlemanlike knavery. I must go to Pedringano and tell him his pardon is in this box! Nay, I would have sworn it, had I not seen the contrary. I cannot choose but smile to think how the villain will flout the gallows, scorn the audience, and descant on the hangman, and all presuming of his pardon from hence. Will't not be an odd jest, for me to stand and grace every jest he makes, pointing my finger at this box, as who should say: "Mock on, here's thy warrant!" Is't not a scurvy jest that a man should jest himself to death? Alas, poor Pedringano! I am in a sort sorry for thee, but, if I should be hanged with thee, I could not weep.
Exit.
[The court of justice.]
Enter HIERONIMO and the DEPUTY.
HIERO. Thus must we toil in others men's extremesThat know not how to remedy our own,And do them justice, when unjustly weFor all our wrongs can compass no redress.But shall I never live to see the dayThat I may come by justice to the Heav'nsTo know the cause that may my cares allay?This toils my body, this consumeth age,That only I to all men just must be,And neither gods nor men be just to me!
DEP. Worthy Hieronimo, your office asksA care to punish such as do transgress.
HIERO. So is't my duty to regard his deathWho when he liv'd deserv'd my dearest blood.But come; for that we came for, let's begin;For here lies 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 nearer matter that concerneth him,For fear his lordship had forgotten me;But, sith he hath remember'd me so well,Come, come, come on! when shall we to this gear?
HIERO. Stand forth, thou monster, murderer of men,And here, for satisfaction of the world,Confess thy folly and repent thy fault,For there's thy place of execution.
PED. This is short work! Well, to your martiallshipFirst I confess, nor fear I death therefore,I am the man,—'twas I slew Serberine.But, sir, then you think this shall be the placeWhere we shall satisfy you for this gear?
DEPU. Aye, Pedrigano.
PED. No I think not so.
HEIRO. Peace, impudent! for thou shalt find it so;For blood with blood shall, while I sit as judge,Be satisfied, and the law discharg'd.And, though myself cannot receive the like,Yet will I see that others have their right.Dispatch! the fault approved and confess'd,And by our law he is condemn'd to die.
HANG. Come on, sir! are you ready?
PED. To do what, my fine officious knave?
HANG. To go to this gear.
PED. O, sir, you are to forward; thou wouldst fain furnish me with a halter, to disfurnish me of my habit. So should I go out of this gear, my raiment, into that gear, the rope. But, hangman, now I spy your knavery, I'll not change without boot; that's flat.
HANG. Come, sir.
PED. So then I must up?
HANG. No remedy.
PED. Yes, but there shall be for my coming down.
HANG. Indeed here's a remedy for that.
PED. How? be turn'd off?
HANG. Aye, truly. Come, are you ready?I pray you, sir, dispatch, the day goes away.
PED. What, do you hang by the hour? If you do, Imay chance to break your old custom.
HANG. Faith, you have no reason, for I am like to breakyour young neck.
PED. Dost thou mock me, hangman? Pray God I be notpreserved to break your knaves-pate for this!
HANG. Alas, sir, you are a foot too low to reach it, and Ihope you will never grow so high while I am in office.
PED. Sirrah, dost see yonder boy with the box in hishand?
HANG. What, he that points to it with his finger?
PED. Aye, that companion.
HANG. I know him not; but what of him?
PED. Dost thou think to live till his old doublet willmake thee a new truss?
HANG. Aye, and many a fair year after, to truss up manyan honester man then either thou or he.
PED. What hath he in his box, as thou thinkst?
HANG. Faith, I cannot tell, nor I care not greatly.Me thinks you should rather hearken to your soul's health.
PED. Why, sirrah hangman, I take it that that is good for the body is likewise good for the soul: and it may be in that box is balm for both.
HANG. Well, thou art even the merriest piece of man'sflesh that e'er groaned at my office-door.
PED. Is your roguery become an office, with a knave'sname?
HANG. Aye, and that shall all they witness that see you sealit with a thief's name.
PED. I prithee, request this good company to pray forme.
HANG. Aye, marry, sir, this is a good motion! My masters,you see here's a good fellow.
PED. Nay, nay, now I remember me, let them alone tillsome other time; for now I have no great need.
HIERO. I have not seen a wretch so impudent.O monstrous times where murders are so light,And where the soul that should be shrin'd in heav'nSolely delights in interdicted things,Still wand'ring in the thorny passagesThat intercepts itself of happiness!Murder? O bloody monster! God forbidA fault so foul should 'scape unpunished!Dispatch and see this execution done;This makes me to remember thee, my son.
Exit HIERONIMO.
PED. Nay, soft! no haste!
DEPU. Why, wherefore stay you? Have you hope of life?
PED. Why, aye.
HANG. As how?
PED. Why, rascal, by my pardon from the king.
HANG. Stand you on that? then you shall off with this.
He turns him off.
DEPU. So, executioner, convey him hence;But let his body be unburied.Let not the earth be choked or infectWhat that which Heav'ns contemns and men neglect.
Exeunt.
[HIERONIMO's house.]
Enter HIERONIMO.
HIER. Where shall I run to breath abroad my woes,—My woes whose weight hath wearied the earth,Or mine exclaims that have surcharg'd the airWith ceaseless plaints for my deceased son?The blust'ring winds, conspiring with my words,At my lament have mov'd to leafless trees,Disrob'd the meadows of their flower'd green,Made mountains marsh with spring-tides of my tears,And broken through the brazen gates of hell;Yet still tormented is my tortur'd soulWith broken sighs and restless passions,That, winged, mount, and hovering in the air,Beat at the windows of the brightest heav'ns,Soliciting for justice and revenge.But they are plac'd in those empyreal heights,Where, countermur'd with walls of diamond,I find the place impregnable, and theyResist my woes and give my words no way.
Enter HANGMAN with a letter.
HANG. O Lord, sir! God bless you, sir! The man, sir,—Petergade, sir: he that was so full of merry conceits—
HIER. Well, what of him?
HANG. O Lord, sir! he went the wrong way; the fellow had a fair commission to the contrary. Sir, here is his passport, I pray you, sir; we have done him wrong.
HIERO. I warrant thee; give it me.
HANG. You will stand between the gallows and me?
HIERO. Aye, aye!
HANG. I thank your lord's worship.
Exit HANGMAN.
HIERO. And yet, though somewhat nearer me concernsI will, to ease the grief that I sustain,Take truce with sorrow while I read on this.[Reads] "My lord, I writ, as mine extremes requir'd,That you would labour my delivery:If you neglect, my life is desperate,And in my death I shall reveal the troth.You know, my lord, I slew him for your sake,And was confed'rate with the prince and you;Won by rewards and hopeful promises,I holp to murder Don Horatio too."—Holp he to murder mine Horatio?And actors in th' accursed tragedyWast thou, Lorenzo? Balthazar and thou,Of whom my son, my son deserv'd so well?What have I heard? what have mine eyes beheld?O sacred heav'ns, may it come to passThat such a monstrous and detested deed,So closely smoother'd and so long conceal'd,Shall thus by this be venged or reveal'd?Now see I what I durst not then suspect,That Bel-imperia's letter was not feign'd,Nor feigned she, though falsely they have wrong'dBoth her, myself, Horatio and themselves.Now may I make compare 'twixt hers and thisOf every accident. I ne'er could findTill now, and now I feelingly perceive,They did what Heav'n unpunish'd should not leave.O false Lorenzo! are these thy flattering looks?Is this the honour that thou didst my son?And, Balthazar,—bane to thy soul and me!—What this the ransom he reserv'd for thee?Woe to the cause of these constrained wars!Woe to thy baseness and captivity!Woe to thy birth, thy body and thy soul,Thy cursed father, and thy conquer'd self!And bann'd with bitter execrations beThe day and place where he did pity thee!But wherefore waste I mine unfruitful words,When naught but blood will satisfy my woes?I will go plain me to my lord the king,And cry aloud for justice through the court,Wearing the flints with these my wither'd feet,And either purchase justice by entreatsOr tire them all with my revenging threats.
Exit.
[HIERONIMO's house.]
Enter ISABELL and her MAID.
ISA. So that you say this herb will purge the eyes,And this the head? Ah! but none of them will purge theheart!No, there's no medicine left for my disease,Nor any physic to recure the dead.
She runs lunatic.
Horatio! O, where's Horatio?
MAID. Good madam, affright not thus yourselfWith outrage for your son Horatio;He sleeps in quiet in the Elysian fields.
ISA. Why did I not give you gowns and goodly things,Bought you a whistle and a whipstalk too,To be revenged on their villainies?
MAID. Madame, these humors do torment my soul.
ISA. My soul? poor soul, thou talk'st of thingsThou know'st not what! My soul hath silver wings,That mounts me up unto the highest heav'ns—To heav'n? Aye, there sits my Horatio,Back'd with troop of fiery cherubinsDancing about his newly healed wounds,Singing sweet hymns and chanting heav'nly notes,Rare harmony to greet his innocence,That died, aye, died a mirror in our days!But say, where shall I find the men, the murderers,That slew Horatio? whether shall I runTo find them out, that murdered my son?
Exeunt.
[The DUKE's castle.]
BEL-IMPERIA at a window.
BEL. What means this outrage that is offer'd me?Why am I thus sequester'd from the court?No notice? shall I not know the causeOf these my secret and suspicious ills?Accursed brother! unkind murderer!Why bend'st thou thus thy mind to martyr me?Hieronimo, why writ I of thy wrongs,Or why art thou so slack in thy revenge?Andrea! O Andrea, that thou sawestMe for thy friend Horatio handled thus,And him for me thus causeless murdered!Well, force perforce, I must constrain myselfTo patience, and apply me to the time,Till Heav'n, as I have hop'd, shall set me free.
Enter CHRISTOPHEL.
CHRIS. Come, Madame Bel-imperia, this must not be!
Exeunt.
[ACT III. Scene 10.]
[A room in the DUKE's castle.]
Enter LORENZO, BALTHAZAR and the PAGE.
LOR. Boy, talk no further; thus far things go well.Thou art assur'd that thou sawest him dead?
PAGE. Or else, my lord, I live not.
LOR. That's enough.As for this resolution at his end,Leave that to him with whom he sojourns now.Here, take my ring, and give it Christophel,And bid him let my sister be enlarg'd,And bring her hither straight.
Exit PAGE.
This that I did was for a policy,To smooth and keep the murder secret,Which as a nine days wonder being o'er-blown,My gentle sister will I now enlarge.
BAL. And time, Lorenzo; for my lord the duke,You heard, enquired for her yester-night.
LOR. Why! and, my lord, I hope you heard me saySufficient reason why she kept away;But that's all one. My lord, you love her?
BAL. Aye.
LOR. Then in your love beware; deal cunningly;Salve all suspicions; only soothe me up,And, if she hap to stand on terms with us,As for her sweet-heart, and concealment so,Jest with her gently; under feigned jestAre things conceal'd that else would breed unrest.But here she comes.
Enter BEL-IMPERIA.
LOR. Now, sister.
BEL. Sister? No!Thou art no brother, but an enemy,Else wouldst thou not have us'd thy sister so:First, to affright me with thy weapons drawn,And with extremes abuse my company;And then to hurry me like whirlwind's rageAmidst a crew of thy confederates,And clap me up where none might come at me,Nor I at any to reveal my wrongs.What madding fury did possess thy wits?Or wherein is't that I offended thee?
LOR. Advise you better, Bel-imperia;For I have done you no disparagement,—Unless, by more discretion then deserv'd,I sought to save your honour and mine own.
BEL. Mine honour? Why, Lorenzo, wherein is'tThat I neglect my reputation soAs you, or any, need to rescue it?
LOR. His Highness and my father were resolv'dTo come confer with old HieronimoConcerning certain matters of estateThat by the viceroy was determined.
BEL. And wherein was mine honour touch'd in that?
BAL. Have patience, Bel-imperia; hear the rest.
LOR. Me, next in sight, as messenger they sentTo give him notice that they were so nigh:Now, when I came, consorted with the prince,And unexpected in an arbor thereFound Bel-imperia with Horatio—
BEL. How then?
LOR. Why, then, rememb'ring that old disgraceWhich you for Don Andrea had endur'd,And now were likely longer to sustainBy being found so meanly accompanied,Thought rather, for I knew no readier mean,To thrust Horatio forth my father's way.
BAL. And carry you obscurely somewhere else,Lest that his Highness should have found you there.
BEL. Ev'n so, my lord? And you are witnessThat this is true which he entreateth of?You, gentle brother, forg'd this for my sake?And you, my lord, were made his instrument?A work of worth! worthy the noting too!But what's the cause that you conceal'd me since?
LOR. Your melancholy, sister, since the newsOf your first favorite Don Andrea's deathMy father's old wrath hath exasperate.
BAL. And better was't for you, being in disgrace,To absent yourself and give his fury place.
BEL. But why I had no notice of his ire?
LOR. That were to add more fuel to your fire,Who burnt like Aetna for Andrea's loss.
BEL. Hath not my father then enquir'd for me?
LOR. Sister, he hath; and this excus'd I thee.
He whispereth in her ear.
But, Bel-imperia, see the gentle prince;Look on thy love; behold young Balthazar,Whose passions by thy presence are increas'd,And in whose melancholy thou may'st seeThy hate, his love, thy flight, his following thee.
BEL. Brother, you are become an orator—I know not, ay, by what experience—Too politic for me, past all compare,Since I last saw you. But content yourself;The prince is meditating higher things.
BAL. 'Tis of thy beauty, then, that conquers kings,Of those thy tresses, Ariadne's twines,Wherewith my liberty thou hast surpris'd,Of that thine ivory front, my sorrow's map,Wherein I see no hav'n to rest my hope.
BEL. To love and fear, and both at once, my lord,In my conceit, are things of more importThen women's wit are to be busied with.
BAL. 'Tis I that love.
BEL. Whom?
BAL. Bel-imperia.
BEL. But I that fear.
BAL. Whom?
BEL. Bel-imperia.
LOR. Fear yourself?
BEL. Aye, brother.
LOR. How?
BEL. As thoseThat, when they love, are loath and fear to lose.
BAL. Then, fair, let Balthazar your keeper be.
BEL. No, Balthazar doth fear as well as we;Et tremulo metui pavidum junxere timorem,Est vanum stolidae proditionis opus.
Exit.
LOR. Nay, and you argue things so cunningly,We'll go continue this discourse at court.
BAL. Led by the loadstar of her heav'nly looks,Wends poor oppressed Balthazar,As o'er the mountains walks the wandererIncertain to effect his pilgrimage.
Exeunt.
[A street.]
Enter two PORTINGALES, and HIERONIMO meets them.
I PORT. By your leave, sir.
HIERO. Good leave have you; nay, I pray you go,For I'll leave you, if you can leave me so.
II PORT. Pray you, which is the next way to my lordthe duke's?
HIERO. The next way from me.
I PORT. To the house, we mean.
HIERO. O hard by; 'tis yon house that you see.
II PORT. You could not tell us if his son were there?
HIERO. Who? my lord Lorenzo?
I PORT. Aye, sir.
He goeth in at one door and comes out at another.
HIERO. Oh, forbear,For other talk for us far fitter were!But, if you be importunate to knowThe way to him and where to find him out,Then list to me, and I'll resolve your doubt:There is a path upon your left hand sideThat leadeth from a guilty conscienceUnto a forest of distrust and fear,—A darksome place and dangerous to pass,—There shall you meet with melancholy thoughtsWhose baleful humours if you but behold,It will conduct you to despair and death:Whose rocky cliffs when you have once beheld,Within a hugy dale of lasting night,That, kindled with worlds of iniquities,Doth cast up filthy and detested fumes,—Not far from thence where murderers have builtA habitation for their cursed souls,There, in a brazen caldron fix'd by JoveIn his fell wrath upon a sulfur flame,Yourselves shall find Lorenzo bathing himIn boiling lead and blood of innocents.
I PORT. Ha, ha, ha!
HIERO. Ha, ha, ha! why, ha, ha, ha! Farewell, good ha, ha, ha!
Exit.
II PORT. Doubtless this man is passing lunatic,Or imperfection of his age doth make him dote.Come, let's away to seek my lord the duke.
[Exeunt.]
[The Spanish court.]
Enter HIERONIMO with a ponyard in one hand,and a rope in the other.
HIERO. Now, sir, perhaps I come to see the king,The king sees me, and fain would hear my suit:Why, is this not a strange and seld-seen thingThat standers-by with toys should strike me mute?Go to, I see their shifts, and say no more;Hieronimo, 'tis time for thee to trudge!Down by the dale that flows with purple goreStandeth a fiery tower; there sits a judgeUpon a seat of steel and molten brass,And 'twixt his teeth he holds a fire-brand,That leads unto the lake where he doth stand.Away, Hieronimo; to him be gone:He'll do thee justice for Horatio's death.Turn down this path, thou shalt be with him straight;Or this, and then thou need'st not take thy breath.This way, or that way? Soft and fair, not so!For, if I hang or kill myself, let's knowWho will revenge Horatio's murther then!No, no; fie, no! pardon me, I'll none of that:
He flings away the dagger & halter.
This way I'll take; and this way comes the king,
He takes them up again.
And here I'll have a fling at him, that's flat!And, Balthazar, I'll be with thee to bring;And thee, Lorenzo! Here's the king; nay, stay!And here,—aye, here,—there goes the hare away!
Enter KING, AMBASSADOR, CASTILLE, andLORENZO.
KING. Now show, ambassador, what our viceroy saith:Hath he receiv'd the articles we sent?
HIERO. Justice! O, justice to Hieronimo!
LOR. Back! see'st thou not the king is busy?
HIERO. O! is he so?
KING. Who is he that interrupts our business?
HIERO. Not I! [aside] Hieronimo, beware! go by, goby!
AMBASS. Renown'd king, he hath receiv'd and readThy kingly proffers and thy promis'd league,And, as a man extremely over-joy'dTo hear his son so princely entertain'd,Whose death he had so solemnly bewail'd,This, for thy further satisfactionAnd kingly love, he kindly lets thee know:First, for the marriage of his princely sonWith Bel-imperia, thy beloved niece,The news are more delightful to his soulThen myrrh or incense to the offended Heav'ns.In person, therefore, will be come himselfTo see the marriage rites solemnizedAnd in the presence of the court of SpainTo knit a sure inextricable bandOf kingly love and everlasting leagueBetwixt the crowns of Spain and Portingal.There will he give his crown to Balthazar,And make a queen of Bel-imperia.
KING. Brother, how like you this our viceroy's love?
CAST. No doubt, my lord, it is an argumentOf honourable care to keep his friendAnd wondrous zeal to Balthazar, his son.Nor am I least indebted to his Grace,That bends his liking to my daughter thus.
AMBASS. Now last, dread lord, here hath his Highness sent—Although he send not that his son return—His ransom due to Don Horatio.
HIERO. Horatio? who calls Horatio?
KING. And well remember'd, thank his Majesty!Here, see it given to Horatio.
HIERO. Justice! O justice! justice, gentle king!
KING. Who is that? Hieronimo?
HIERO. Justice! O justice! O my son! my son!My son, whom naught can ransom or redeem!
LOR. Hieronimo, you are not well advis'd.
HIERO. Away, Lorenzo! hinder me no more,For thou hast made me bankrupt of my bliss!Give me my son! You shall not ransom him!Away! I'll rip the bowels of the earth,
He diggeth with his dagger.
And ferry over th' Elysian plainsAnd bring my son to show his deadly wounds.Stand from about me! I'll make a pickaxe of my poniard,And here surrender up my marshallship;For I'll go marshall up the fiends in hell,To be avenged on you all for this.
KING. What means this outrage?Will none of you restrain his fury?
HIERO. Nay, soft and fair; you shall not need to strive!Needs must he go that the devils drive.
Exit.
KING. What accident hath happ'd to Hieronimo?I have not seen him to demean him so.
LOR. My gracious lord, he is with extreme prideConceiv'd of young Horatio, his son,And covetous of having himselfThe ransom of the young prince, Balthazar,Distract, and in a manner lunatic.
KING. Believe me, nephew, we are sorry for 't;This is the love that fathers bear their sons.But, gentle brother, go give to him this gold,The prince's ransom; let him have his due;For what he hath, Horatio shall not want.Haply Hieronimo hath need thereof.
LOR. But if he be thus helplessly distract,'Tis requisite his office be resign'dAnd giv'n to one of more discretion.
KING. We shall increase his melancholy so.'Tis best that we see further in it first;Till when, ourself will hold exempt the place.And, brother, now bring in the ambassador,That he may be a witness of the match'Twixt Balthazar and Bel-imperia,And that we may prefix a certain timeWherein the marriage shall be solemniz'd,That we may have thy lord the viceroy here.
AMBASS. Therein your Highness highly shall contentHis majesty, that longs to hear from hence.
KING. On then, and hear you, lord ambassador.
Exeunt.
[HIERONIMO's house.]
Enter HIERONIMO with a book in his hand.
[HIERO.] Vindicta mihi.Aye, heav'n will be reveng'd of every ill,Nor will they suffer murder unrepaid!Then stay, Hieronimo, attend their will;For mortal men may not appoint their time.Per scelus semper tutum est sceleribus iter:Strike, and strike home, where wrong is offer'd thee;For evils unto ills conductors be,And death's the worst of resolution.For he that thinks with patience to contendTo quiet life, his life shall easily end.Fata si miseros juvant, habes salutem;Fata si vitam negant, habes sepulchrum:If destiny thy miseries do ease,Then hast thou health, and happy shalt thou be;If destiny deny thee life, Hieronimo,Yet shalt thou be assured of a tomb;If neither, yet let this thy comfort be:Heav'n covereth him that hath no burial.And, to conclude, I will revenge his death!But how? Not as the vulgar wits of men,With open, but inevitable ills;As by a secret, yet a certain mean,Which under kindship will be cloaked best.Wise men will take their opportunity,Closely and safely fitting things to time;But in extremes advantage hath no time;And therefore all times fit not for revenge.Thus, therefore, will I rest me in unrest,Dissembling quiet in unquietness,Not seeming that I know their villainies,That my simplicity may make them thinkThat ignorantly I will let all slip;For ignorance, I wot, and well they know,Remedium malorum iners est.Nor aught avails it me to menace them.Who, as a wintry storm upon a plain,Will bear me down with their nobility.No, no, Hieronimo, thou must enjoinThine eyes to observation, and thy tongueTo milder speeches than thy spirit affords,Thy heart to patience, and thy hands to rest,Thy cap to courtesy, and thy knee to bow,Till to revenge thou know when, where and how.How now? what noise, what coil is that you keep?
A noise within.
Enter a SERVANT.
SER. Here are a sort of poor petitionersThat are importunate, and it shall please you, sir,That you should plead their cases to the king.
HIERO. That I should plead their several actions?Why, let them enter, and let me see them.
Enter three CITIZENS and an OLD MAN[DON BAZULTO].
I CIT. So I tell you this: for learning and for lawThere is not any advocate in SpainThat can prevail or will take half the painThat he will in pursuit of equity.
HIERO. Come near, you men, that thus importune me![Aside] Now must I bear a face of gravity,For thus I us'd, before my marshallship,To plead in causes as corrigedor.—Come on, sirs, what's the matter?
II CIT. Sir, an action.
HIERO. Of battery?
I CIT. Mine of debt.
HIERO. Give place.
II CIT. No, sir, mine is an action of the case.
III CIT. Mine an ejectionae firmae by a lease.
HIERO. Content you, sirs; are you determinedThat I should plead your several actions?
I CIT. Aye, sir; and here's my declaration.
II CIT. And here is my bond.
III CIT. And here is my lease.
They give him papers.
HIERO. But wherefore stands yon silly man so mute,With mournful eyes and hands to heav'n uprear'd?Come hither, father; let me know thy cause.
SENEX, [DON BAZULTO]. O worthy sir, my cause but slightly knownMay move the hearts of warlike Myrmidons,And melt the Corsic rocks with ruthful tears!
HIERO. Say, father; tell me what's thy suit!
BAZULTO. No, sir, could my woesGive way unto my most distressful words,Then should I not in paper, as you see,With ink bewray what blood began in me.
HIERO. What's here? "The Humble SupplicationOf Don Bazulto for his Murder'd Son."
BAZULTO. Aye, sir.
HIERO. No, sir, it was my murder'd son!Oh, my son, my son! oh, my son Horatio!But mine or thine, Bazulto, be content;Here, take my handkerchief and wipe thine eyes,Whiles wretched I in thy mishaps may seeThe lively portrait of my dying self.
He draweth out a bloody napkin.
O, no; not this! Horatio, this was thine!And when I dy'd it in thy dearest blood,This was a token twixt thy soul and meThat of thy death revenged I should be.But here: take this, and this! what? my purse?Aye, this and that and all of them are thine;For all as one are our extremities.
I CIT. Oh, see the kindness of Hieronimo!
II CIT. This gentleness shows him a gentleman.
HIERO. See, see, oh, see thy shame, Hieronimo!See here a loving father to his son:Behold the sorrows and the sad lamentsThat he deliv'reth for his son's decease.If love's effect so strives in lesser things,If love enforce such moods in meaner wits,If love express such power in poor estates,Hieronimo, as when a raging sea,Toss'd with the wind and tide, o'er-turneth thenThe upper-billows course of waves to keep,Whilst lesser waters labour in the deep,Then sham'st thou not, Hieronimo, to neglectThe swift revenge of thy Horatio?Though on this earth justice will not be found,I'll down to hell and in this passionKnock at the dismal gates of Pluto's court,Getting by force, as once Alcides did,A troupe of furies and tormenting hags,To torture Don Lorenzo and the rest.Yet, lest the triple-headed porter shouldDeny my passage to the slimy strand,The Thracian poet thou shalt counterfeit;Come on, old father, be my Orpheus;And, if thou canst no notes upon the harp,Then sound the burden of thy sore heart's griefTill we do gain that Proserpine may grantRevenge on them that murdered my son.Then will I rent and tear them thus and thus,Shiv'ring their limbs in pieces with my teeth!