The Spanish Tragedy Part 22

BEL. And I?

HIERO. Perseda, chaste and resolute.

And here, my lords, are several abstracts drawn, For each of you to note your several parts.

And act it as occasion's offer'd you.

You must provide you with a Turkish cap, A black moustache and a fauchion.

Gives paper to BALTHAZAR.

You with a cross, like a knight of Rhodes.

Gives another to LORENZO.

And, madame, you must then attire yourself

He giveth BEL-IMPERIA another.

Like Phoebe, Flora, or the huntress Dian, Which to your discretion shall seem best.

And as for me, my lords, I'll look to one, And with the ransom that the viceroy sent So furnish and perform this tragedy As all the world shall say Hieronimo Was liberal in gracing of it so.

BAL. Hieronimo, methinks a comedy were better.

HIERO. A comedy? fie! comedies are fit for common wits; But to present a kingly troupe withal, Give me a stately-written tragedy,-- Tragedia cothurnata, fitting kings, Containing matter, and not common things!

My lords, all this our sport must be perform'd, As fitting for the first night's revelling.

The Italian tragedians were so sharp Of wit that in one hour's meditation They would perform any-thing in action.

LOR. And well it may, for I have seen the like In Paris, 'mongst the French tragedians.

HIERO. In Paris? ma.s.s, and well remembered!-- There's one thing more that rests for us to do.

BAL. What's that, Hieronimo?

Forget not anything.

HIERO. Each one of us Must act his part in unknown languages, That it may breed the more variety: As you, my lord, in Latin, I in Greek, You in Italian, and, for-because I know That Bel-imperia hath practised the French, In courtly French shall all her phrases be.

BEL. You mean to try my cunning then, Hieronimo!

BAL. But this will be a mere confusion, And hardly shall we all be understood.

HEIRO. It must be so; for the conclusion Shall prove the invention and all was good; And I myself in an oration, That I will have there behind a curtain, And with a strange and wondrous show besides, a.s.sure yourself, shall make the matter known.

And all shall be concluded in one scene, For there's no pleasure ta'en in tediousness.

BAL. [to LOR.] How like you this?

LOR. Why thus, my lord, we must resolve, To soothe his humors up.

BAL. On then, Hieronimo; farewell till soon!

HIERO. You'll ply this gear?

LOR. I warrant you.

Exeuent all but HIERONIMO.

HIERO. Why, so! now shall I see the fall of Babylon Wrought by the heav'ns in this confusion.

And, if the world like not this tragedy, Hard is the hap of old Hieronimo.

Exit.

[ACT IV. SCENE 2.]

[HIERONIMO's garden.]

Enter ISABELLA with a weapon.

[ISA.] Tell me no more! O monstrous homicides!

Since neither piety nor pity moves The king to justice or compa.s.sion, I will revenge myself upon this place, Where thus they murder'd my beloved son.

She cuts down the arbour.

Down with these branches and these loathsome boughs On this unfortunate and fatal pine!

Down with them, Isabella; rent them up, And burns the roots from whence the rest is sprung!

I will leave not a root, a stalk, a tree, A bough, a branch, a blossom, nor a leaf,-- Not, not an herb within this garden plot, Accursed complot of my misery!

Fruitless forever may this garden be, Barren the earth, and blissless whosoever Imagines not to keep it unmanur'd!

An eastern wind comix'd with noisome airs Shall blast the plants and young saplings here, The earth with serpents shall be pestered, And pa.s.sengers, for fear to be infect, Shall stand aloof, and, looking at it, tell There, murder'd, died the son of Isabell.

Aye, here he died, and here I him embrace!

See where his ghost solicits with his wounds Revenge on her that should revenge his death!

Hieronimo, make haste to see thy son, For Sorrow and Despair hath 'cited me To hear Horatio plead with Radamant.

Make haste, Hieronimo, to hold excus'd Thy negligence in pursuit of their deaths Whose hateful wrath bereav'd him of his breath.

Ah, nay; thou dost delay their deaths, Forgiv'st the murd'rers of thy n.o.ble son; And none but I bestir me,--to no end!

And, as I curse this tree from further fruit, So shall my womb be cursed for his sake; And with this weapon will I wound this breast,-- That hapless breast that gave Horatio suck!

She stabs herself.

[ACT IV. SCENE 3.]

[The DUKE's castle.]

Enter HIERONIMO; he knocks up the curtain.

Enter the DUKE OF CASTILE.

CAS. How now, Hieronimo? where's your fellows, That you take all this pain?

HIERO. O sir, it is for the author's credit To look that all things may go well.

But, good my lord, let me entreat your Grace To give the king the copy of the play: This is the argument of what we show.