The Spanish Tragedie Part 1

The Spanish Tragedie.

by Thomas Kyd.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

GHOST OF ANDREA REVENGE the Chorus.

KING OF SPAIN.

VICEROY OF PORTUGAL.

DON CIPRIAN, duke of Castile.

HIERONIMO, knight-marshall of Spain.

BALTHAZAR, the Viceroy's son.

LORENZO, Don Ciprian's son [and Bel-imperia's brother].

HORATIO, Hieronimo's son.

ALEXANDRO VILLUPPO lords of Portual.

PEDRINGANO, servant of Bel-imperia.

SERBERINE, servant of Balthazar.

Spanish General, Portuguese Emba.s.sador, Old Man, Painter Page, Hangman, Citizens, Soldiers, Attendants, &c.

BEL-IMPERIA, Lorenzo's sister.

ISABELLA, Hieronimo's wife.

PAGE.

MESSENGER.

CHRISTOPHEL.

SERVANT.

SENEX (DON BAZULTO).

CITIZENS.

SCENE: Spain; and Portugal.

ACTVS PRIMVS.

[Prologue]

Enter the GHOAST OF ANDREA, and with him REUENGE.

GHOAST. When this eternall substance of my soule Did liue imprisond in my wanton flesh, Ech in their function seruing others need, I was a courtier in the Spanish court: My name was Don Andrea; my discent, Though not ign.o.ble, yet inferiour far To gratious fortunes of my tender youth, For there, in prime and pride of all my yeeres, By duteous seruice and deseruing loue, In secret I possest a worthy dame, Which hight sweet Bel-imperia by name.

But in the haruest of my sommer ioyes Deaths winter nipt the blossomes of my blisse, Forcing diuorce betwixt my loue and me; For in the late conflict with Portingale My valour drew me into dangers mouth Till life to death made pa.s.sage through my wounds.

When I was slaine, my soule descended straight To pa.s.se the flowing streame of Archeron; But churlish Charon, only boatman there, Said that, my rites of buriall not performde, I might not sit amongst his pa.s.sengers.

Ere Sol had slept three nights in Thetis lap, And slakte his smoaking charriot in her floud, By Don Horatio, our knight-marshals sonne, My funerals and obsequies were done.

Then was the fariman of h.e.l.l content To pa.s.se me ouer to the slimie strond That leades to fell Auernus ougly waues.

There, pleasing Cerberus with honied speech, I past the perils of the formost porch.

Not farre from hence, amidst ten thousand soules, Sate Minos, Eacus and Rhadamant; To whome no sooner gan I make approach, To craue a pasport for my wandring ghost, But Minos in grauen leaues of lotterie Drew forth the manner of my life and death.

"This knight," quoth he, "both liu'd and died in loue; And for his loue tried fortune of the warres; And by warres fortune lost both loue and life."

"Why then," said Eacus, "convey him hence To walke with lovers in our field of loue And the course of euerlasting time Vnder greene mirtle-trees and cipresse shades."

"No, no!" said Rhadamant, "it were not well With louing soules to place a martialist.

He died in warre, and must to martiall fields, Where wounded Hector liues in lasting paine, And Achilles Mermedons do scoure the plaine."

Then Minos, mildest censor of the three, Made this deuice, to end the difference: "Send him," quoth he, "to our infernall king, To dome him as best seemes his Maiestie."

To this effect my pasport straight was drawne.

In keeping on my way to Plutos court Through dreadfull shades of euer-glooming night, I saw more sights than thousand tongues can tell Or pennes can write or mortall harts can think.

Three waies there were: that on the right hand side Was ready way vnto the foresaid fields Where louers liue and bloudie martialists, But either sort containd within his bounds; The left hand path, declining fearfuly, Was ready downfall to the deepest h.e.l.l, Where bloudie Furies shakes their whips of steele, And poore Ixion turnes an endles wheele, Where vsurers are choakt with melting golde, And wantons are imbraste with ougly snakes, And murderers groane with neuer-killing wounds, And periured wights scalded in boiling lead, And all foule sinnes with torments ouerwhelmd; Twixt these two waies I trod the middle path, Which brought me to the faire Elizian greene, In midst whereof there standes a stately towre, The walles of bra.s.se, the gates of adamant.

Heere finding Pluto with his Proserpine, I shewed my pasport, humbled on my knee.

Whereat faire Proserpine began to smile, And begd that onely she might giue me doome.

Pluto was pleasd, and sealde it with a kisse.

Forthwith, Reuenge, she rounded thee in th' eare, And bad thee lead me though the gates of horn, Where dreames haue pa.s.sage in the silent night.

No sooner had she spoke but we weere heere, I wot not how, in the twinkling of an eye.

REUENGE. Then know, Andrea, that thou ariu'd Where thou shalt see the author of thy death, Don Balthazar, the prince of Portingale, Depriu'd of life by Bel-imperia: Heere sit we downe to see the misterie, And serue for Chorus in this tragedie.

[ACT I. SCENE 1.]

[The Spanish Court]

Enter SPANISH KING, GENERALL, CASTILLE, HIERONIMO.

KING. Now say, l[ord] generall: how fares our campe?

GEN. All wel, my soueraigne liege, except some few That are deceast by fortune of the warre.

KING. But what portends thy cheerefull countenance And posting to our presence this in hast?

Speak, man: hath fortune giuen vs victorie?

GEN. Victorie, my liege, and that with little losse.

KING. Out Portugals will pay vs tribute then?

GEN. Tribute, and wonted homage therewithall.

KING. Then blest be Heauen, and Guider of the heauens, From whose faire influence such iustice flowes!

CAST. O multum dilecte Deo, tibi militat aether, Et coniuratae curato poplite gentes Succ.u.mbent: recto soror est victoria iuris!

KING. Thanks to my loving brother of Castille.

But, generall, vnfolde in breefe discourse Your forme of battell and your warres successe, That, adding all the pleasure of thy newes Vnto the height of former happines, With deeper wage and gentile dignitie We may reward thy blisfull chiualrie.

GEN. Where Spaine and Portingale do ioyntly knit Their frontiers, leaning on each others bound, There met our armies in the proud aray: Both furnisht well, both full of hope and feare, Both menacing alike with daring showes, Both vaunting sundry colours of deuice, Both cheerly sounding trumpets, drums and fifes, Both raising dreadfull clamors to the skie, That valleis, hils, and riuers made rebound And heauen it-selfe was frighted with the sound.

Our battels both were pitcht in squadron forme, Each corner strongly fenst with wings of shot; But, ere we ioyned and came to push of pike, I brought a squadron of our readiest shot From out our rearward to begin the fight; They brought another wing to incounter vs; Meane-while our ordinance plaid on either side, And captaines stroue to haue their valours tride.

Don Pedro, their chiefe hors.e.m.e.ns corlonell, Did with his cornet brauely make attempt To break our order of our battell rankes; But Don Rogero, worthy man of warre, Marcht forth against him with our musketiers And stopt the mallice of his fell approach.

While they maintaine hot skirmish too and fro, Both battailes ioyne and fall to handie blowes, Their violent shot resembling th' oceans rage When, roaring lowd and with a swelling tide, It beats vpon the rampiers of huge rocks, And gapes to swallow neighbor-bounding lands.

Now, while Bellona rageth heere and there, Thick stormes of bullets ran like winters haile, And shiuered launces darke the troubled aire; Pede pes & cuspide cuspis, Arma sonant armis vir pet.i.turque viro; On euery side drop captaines to the ground, And souldiers, some ill-maimde, some slaine outright: Heere falls a body sundred from his head; There legs and armes lye bleeding on the gra.s.se, Mingled with weapons and vnboweled steeds, That scattering ouer-spread the purple plaine.