The Spanish Tragedy Part 21

Enter BEL-IMPERIA and HIERONIMO.

BEL-IMPERIA. Is this the love thou bear'st Horatio?

Is this the kindness that thou counterfeit'st, Are these the fruits of thine incessant tears?

Hieronimo, are these thy pa.s.sions, Thy protestations and thy deep laments, That thou wert wont to weary men withal?

O unkind father! O deceitful world!

With what excuses canst thou show thyself,-- With what dishonour, and the hate of men,-- Thus to neglect the loss and life of him Whom both my letters and thine own belief a.s.sures thee to be causeless slaughtered?

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

Unhappy mothers of such children then!

But monstrous fathers, to forget so soon The death of those whom they with care and cost Have tender'd so, thus careless should be lost!

Myself, a stranger in respect to thee, So lov'd his life as still I wish their deaths.

Nor shall his death be unreveng'd by me.

Although I bear it out for fashion's sake; For here I swear in sight of heav'n and earth, Shouldst thou neglect the love thou shouldst retain And give it over and devise no more, Myself should send their hateful souls to h.e.l.l That wrought his downfall with extremest death!

HIE. But may it be that Bel-imperia Vows such revenge as she hath deign'd to say?

Why then, I see that heav'n applies our drift, And all the saints do sit soliciting For vengeance on those cursed murtherers.

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

I found a letter, written in your name, And in that letter, how Horatio died.

Pardon, O pardon, Bel-imperia, My fear and care in not believing it!

Nor think I thoughtless think upon a mean To let his death be unreveng'd at full.

And here I vow, so you but give consent And will conceal my resolution, I will ere long determine of their deaths That causeless thus have murdered my son.

BEL. Hieronimo, I will consent, conceal, And aught that may effect for thine avail, Join with thee to revenge Horatio's death.

HIER. On then, and whatsoever I devise, Let me entreat you grace my practice, For-why the plot's already in mine head.-- Here they are!

Enter BALTHAZAR and LORENZO.

BAL. How now, Hieronimo?

What, courting Bel-imperia?

HIERO. Aye, my lord, Such courting as, I promise you, She hath my heart, but you, my lord, have hers.

LOR. But now, Hieronimo, or never We are to entreat your help.

HIE. My help?

Why, my good lords, a.s.sure yourselves of me; For you have giv'n me cause,-- Aye, by my faith, have you!

BAL. It pleased you At the entertainment of the amba.s.sador, To grace the King so much as with a show; Now were your study so well furnished As, for the pa.s.sing of the first night's sport, To entertain my father with the like, Or any such like pleasing motion, a.s.sure yourself it would content them well.

HIERO. Is this all?

BAL. Aye, this is all.

HIERO. Why then I'll fit you; say no more.

When I was young I gave my mind And plied myself to fruitless poetry, Which, though it profit the professor naught, Yet is it pa.s.sing pleasing to the world.

LOR. And how for that?

HIERO. Marry, my good lord, thus.-- And yet, me thinks, you are too quick with us!-- When in Toledo there I studied, It was my chance to write a tragedy,-- See here, my lords,--

He shows them a book.

Which, long forgot, I found this other day.

Nor would your lordships favour me so much As but to grace me with your acting it, I mean each one of you to play a part.

a.s.sure you it will prove most pa.s.sing strange And wondrous plausible to that a.s.sembly.

BAL. What, would you have us play a tragedy?

HIERO. Why, Nero thought it no disparagement, And kings and emperors have ta'en delight To make experience of their wit in plays!

LOR. Nay, be not angry, good Hieronimo; The prince but ask'd a question.

BAL. In faith, Hieronimo, and you be in earnest, I'll make one.

LOR. And I another.

HIERO. Now, my good lord, could you entreat, Your sister, Bel-imperia, to make one,-- For what's a play without a woman in it?

BEL. Little entreaty shall serve me, Hieronimo, For I must needs be employed in your play.

HIERO. Why, this is well! I tell you, lordings, It was determined to have been acted, By gentlemen and scholars too, Such as could tell what to speak.

BAL. And now It shall be play'd by princes and courtiers, Such as can tell how to speak, If, as it is our country manner, You will but let us know the argument.

HIERO. That shall I roundly. The chronicles of Spain Record this written of a knight of Rhodes; He was betroth'd, and wedded at the length, To one Perseda, an Italian dame, Whose beauty ravish'd all that her beheld, Especially the soul of Suleiman, Who at the marriage was the chiefest guest.

By sundry means sought Suleiman to win Perseda's love, and could not gain the same.

Then 'gan he break his pa.s.sions to a friend, One of his bashaws whom he held full dear.

Her has this bashaw long solicited, And saw she was not otherwise to be won But by her husband's death, this knight of Rhodes, Whom presently by treachery he slew.

She, stirr'd with an exceeding hate therefore, As cause of this, slew Sultan Suleiman, And, to escape the bashaw's tyranny, Did stab herself. And this is the tragedy.

LOR. O, excellent!

BEL. But say, Hieronimo: What then became of him that was the bashaw?

HIERO.

Marry thus: Moved with remorse of his misdeeds, Ran to a mountain top and hung himself.

BAL. But which of us is to perform that part?

HIERO. O, that will I, my lords; make no doubt of it; I'll play the murderer, I warrant you; For I already have conceited that.

BAL. And what shall I?

HIERO. Great Suleiman, the Turkish emperor.

LOR. And I?

HIERO. Erastus, the knight of Rhodes.