The Spanish Tragedie Part 21

HIERO. Why, is not this a miserable thing, my lord?

CAS. Hieronimo, I hope you haue no cause, And would be loth that one of your deserts, Should once haue reason to suspect my sonne, Considering how I think of you my-selfe.

HIERO. Your sonne Lorenzo? whome, my n.o.ble lord?

The hope of Spaine? mine honorable freend?

Graunt me the combat of them, if they dare!

Drawes out his sword.

Ile meet them face-to-face to tell me so!

These be the scandalous reports of such As loues not me, and hate my lord too much.

Should I suspect Lorenzo would preuent Or crosse my sute, that loued my sonne so well?

My lord, I am ashamed it should be said.

LOR. Hieronimo, I neuer gaue you cause.

H[I]ERO. My good lord, I know you did not.

CAS. There then pause, And, for the satisfaction of the world, Hieronimo, frequent my homely house, The Duke of Castile Ciprians ancient seat; And when thou wilt, vse me, my sonne, and it.

But heere before Prince Balthazar and me Embrace each other, and be perfect freends.

HIERO. I, marry, my lord, and shall!

Freends, quoth he? See, Ile be freends with you all!

Especially with you, my louely lord; For diuers causes it is fit for vs That we be freends. The world is suspitious, And men may think what we imagine not.

BAL. Why this is freely doone, Hieronimo.

LOR. And I hope olde grudges are forgot.

HIERO. What els? it were a shame it should not be so!

CAS. Come on, Hieronimo, at my request; Let vs entreat your company to-day!

Exeunt.

[CHORUS.]

Enter GHOAST and REUENGE.

GHOST. Awake Erictho! Cerberus, awake!

Sollicite Pluto, gentle Proserpine!

To combat, Achinon and Ericus in h.e.l.l!

For neere by Stix and Phlegeton [there came.]

Nor ferried Caron to the fierie lakes, Such fearfull sights, as poore Andrea see[s]?

Reuenge awake!

REUENGE. Awake? for-why?

GHOST. Awake, Reuenge! for thou art ill aduisde To sleepe away what thou art warnd to watch!

REUENGE. Content thy-selfe, and doe not trouble me.

GHOST. Awake, Reuenge, if loue, as loue hath had, Haue yet the power of preuailance in h.e.l.l!

Hieronimo with Lorenzo is ioynde in league, And intecepts our pa.s.sage to reuenge.

Awake, Reuenge, or we are woe-begone!

REUENGE. Thus worldings ground what they haue dreamd vpon!

Content thy-selfe, Andrea; though I sleepe, Yet is my mood soliciting their soules.

Sufficeth thee that poore Hieronimo Cannot forget his sonne Horatio.

Nor dies Reuegne although he sleepe a-while; For in vnquiet, quietnes is faind, And slumbring is a common worldly wile.

Beholde, Andrea, for an instance how Reuenge hath slept; and then imagine thou What tis to be subiect to destinie.

Enter a Dumme-show.

GHOST. Awake, Reuenge! reueale this misterie!

REUENGE. The two first [do] the nuptiall torches beare, As brightly burning as the mid-daies sunne; But after them doth Himen hie as fast, Clothed in sable and saffron robe, And blowes them out and quencheth them with blood, As discontent that things continue so.

GHOST. Sufficeth me; thy meanings vnderstood, And thanks to thee and those infernall powers That will not tollerate a louers woe.

Rest thee; for I will sit to see the rest.

REUENGE. Then argue not; for thou hast thy request.

Exeunt.

[ACT IV. SCENE 1.]

[The DUKE's castle.]

Enter BEL-IMPERIA and HIERONIMO.

BEL-IMPERIA. Is this the loue that bearst Horatio?

Is this the kindnes that thou counterfeits, Are these the fruits of thine incessant teares?

Hieronimo, are these thy pa.s.sions, Thy protestations and thy deepe laments, That thou wert wont to wearie men withall?

O vnkinde father! O deceitfull world!

With what excuses canst thou shew thy-selfe,-- With what dishonour, and the hate of men,-- Thus to neglect the losse and life of him Whom both my letters and thine owne beliefe a.s.sures thee to be causeles slaughtered?

Hieronimo! for shame, Hieronimo, Be not a history to after times Of such ingrat.i.tude vnto thy sonne!

Vnhappy mothers of such chldren then!

But monstrous fathers, to forget so soone The death of those whom they with care and cost Haue tendred so, thus careles should be lost!

My-selfe, a stranger in respect to thee, So loued his life as still I wish their deathes.

Nor shall his death be vnreuengd by me.

Although I beare it out for fashions sake; For heere I sweare in sight of heauen and earth, Shouldst thou neglect the loue thou shoudlst retain And giue ouer and deuise no more, My-selfe should send their hatefull soules to hel That wrought his downfall with extreamest death!

HIE. But may it be that Bel-imperia Vowes such reuenge as she hath dain'd to say?

Why then, I see that heauen applies our drift, And all the saints doe sit soliciting For vengeance on those cursed murtherers.

Madame, tis true, and now I find it so.