Teare the papers.

I CIT. Oh, sir, my declaration!

Exit HIERONIMO and they after.

II CIT. Saue my bond!

Enter HIERONIMO.

II CIT. Saue my bond!

III CIT. Alas my lease, it cost me Ten pound, and you, my lord, haue torne the same!

HIERO. That can not be, I gaue it neuer a wound; Shew me one drop of bloud fall from the same! How is it possible I should slay it then? Tush, no! Run after, catch me if you can!

Exeunt all but the OLDE MAN [DON BAZULTO].

BAZULTO remaines till HIERONIMO enters againe, who, staring him the face, speakes:

And art thou come, Horatio, from the depth, To aske for iustice in this vpper earth? T[o] tell thy father thou art vnreuenged? To wring more teares from Isabellas eies, Whose lights are dimd with ouer-long laments? Goe back, my sonne, complaine to Eacus; For heeres no iustice. Gentle boy, begone; For iustice is exiled from the earth. H[i]eronimo will beare thee company. Thy mother cries on righteous Radamant For iust reuenge against the murderers.

[BAZULTO]. Alas, my l[ord], whence springs this troubled speech?

HIERO. But let me looke on my Horatio: Sweet boy, how art thou chang'd in deaths black shade! Had Proserpine no pittie on thy youth, But suffered thy fair crimson-colourd spring With withered winter to be blasted thus? Horatio, thou are older then thy father: Ah, ruthless father, that fauour thus transformess.

BA. Ah, my good lord, I am not your yong sonne.

HIE. What! not my sonne? thou then a Furie art Sent from the emptie kingdome of blacke night To summon me to make appearance Before grim Mynos and iust Radamant, To plague Hieronimo, that is remisse And seekes not vengeance for Horatios death.

BA. I am a greeued man, and not a ghost, That came for iustice for my murdered sonne.

HIE. I, now I know thee, now thou namest thy sonne; Thou art the liuely image of my griefe: Within thy face sorrowes I may see; The eyes are [dim'd] with teares, they cheekes are wan, They forehead troubled, and thy muttring lips Murmure sad words abruptly broken off By force of windie sighes thy spirit breathes; And all this sorrow riseth for thy sonne, And selfe-same sorrow feele I for my sonne. Come in, old man; thou shalt to Izabell. Leane on my arme; I thee, thou me shalt stay; And thou and I and she will sing a song, Three parts in one, but all of discords fram'd,— Talke not of cords!—but let vs now be gone,— For with a cord Horatio was slaine.

Exeunt.



[ACT III. SCENE 14.]

[The Spanish court.]

Enter KING OF SPAINE, the DUKE, VICE-ROY, and LORENZO, BALTHAZAR, DON PEDRO, and BELIMPERIA.

KING. Go, brother, it is the Duke of Castiles cause; Salute the vice-roy in our name.

CASTILE. I go.

VICE. Go forth, Don Pedro, for they nephews sake, And greet the Duke of Castile.

PEDRO. It shall be so.

KING. And now to meet these Portaguise; For, as we now are, so sometimes were these, Kings and commanders of the westerne Indies. Welcome, braue vice-roy, to the court of Spaine! And welcome, all his honorable traine! Tis not vnknowne to vs for why you come, Or haue so kingly crost the seas. Suffiseth it, in this we note the troth And more then common loue you lend to vs. So is it that mine honorable neece, For it beseemes vs now that it be knowne, Already is betroth'd to Balthazar; And, by appointment and our condiscent, To-morrow are they to be married. To this intent we entertaine thy-selfe, Thy followers, their pleasure, and our peace. Speak, men of Portingale, shall it be so? If I, say so; if not, say so flatly.

VICE. Renowned king, I come not, as thou thinkst, With doubtfull followers, vnresolued men, But such as haue vpon thine articles Confirmed thy motion and contented me. Know, soueraigne, I come to solemnize The marriage of they beloued neece, Faire Bel-imperia, with my Balthazar,— With thee, my sonne, whom sith I liue to see, Heere, take my crowne, I giue it to her and thee, And let me liue a solitarie life, In ceaseless praiers, To think how strangely heauen hath thee preserued.

KING. See, brother, see, how nature striues in him! Come, worthy vice-roy, and accompany They freend, [to strive] with thine extremities: A place more priuate fits this princely mood.

VICE. Or heere or where your Highnes thinks it good.

Exeunt all but CAST[TILE] and LOR[ENZO].

CAS. Nay, stay, Lorenzo; let me talke with you. Seest thou this entertainement of these kings?

LOR. I doe, my lord, and ioy to see the same.

CAS. And knowest thou why this meeting is?

LOR. For her, my lord, whom Balthazar doth loue, And to confirme their promised marriage.

CAS. She is thy sister.

LOR. Who? Bel-imperia? I, my gratious lord, and this is the day That I haue longd so happily to see.

CAS. Thou wouldst be loath that any fault of thine Should intercept her in her happines?

LOR. Heauens will not let Lorenzo erre so much.

CAS. Why then, Lorenzo, listen to my words: It is suspected, and reported too, That thou, Lorenzo, wrongst Hieronimo, And in his sutes toward his Maiestie Still keepst him back and seekes to crosse his sute.

LOR. That I, my lord?

CAS. I tell thee, sonne, my-selfe haue heard it said, When to my sorrow I haue been ashamed To answere for thee, though thou art my sonne. Lorenzo, knowest thou not the common loue And kindenes that Hieronimo hath wone By his deserts within the court of Spaine? Or seest thou not the k[ing] my brothers care In his behalfe and to procure his health? Lorenzo, shouldst thou thwart his passions, And he exclaime against thee to the king, What honour wert in this assembly, Or what a scandale were among the kings, To heare Hieronimo exclaime on thee! Tell me,—and loke thou tell me truely too,— Whence growes the ground of this report in court?

LOR. My l[ord], it lyes not in Lorenzos power To stop the vulgar liberall of their tongues: A small aduantage makes a water-breach; And no man liues that long contenteth all.

CAS. My-selfe haue seene thee busie to keep back Him and his supplications from the king.

LOR. Your-selfe, my l[ord], hath seene his assions, That ill beseemde the presence of a king; And, for I pittied him in his distresse, I helde him thence with kinde and curteous words, As free from malice to Hieronimo As to my soule, my lord.

CAS. Hieronimo, my sonne, mistakes thee then.

LOR. My gratious father, beleeue me, so he doth; But whats a silly man, distract in minde To think vpon the murder of his sonne? Alas, how easie is it for him to erre! But, for his satisfaction and the worlds, Twere good, my l[ord], that Hieronimo and I Were reconcilde, if he misconster me.

CAS. Lorenzo, that hast said; it shalbe so! Goe, one of you, and call Hieronimo.

Etner BALTHAZAR and BEL-IMPERIA.

BAL. Come, Bel-imperia, Balthazars content, My sorrowes ease, and soueraigne of my blisse,— Sith heauen hath [thee ordainded] to be mine, Disperce those cloudes and melanchollie lookes, And cleere them vp with those thy sunne-bright eies, Wherein my hope and heauens faire beautie lies!

BEL. My lookes, my lord, are fitting for my loue, Which, new begun, can shew no brighter yet.

BAL. New kindled flames should burne as morning sun.

BEL. But not too fast, least heate and all be done. I see my lord my father.

BAL. True, my loue; I will goe salute him.

CAS. Welcome, Balthazar, Welcome, braue prince, the pledge of Castiles peace! And welcome Bel-imperia! How now, girle? Why commest thou sadly to salute vs thus? Content thy-selfe, for I am satisfied. It is not now as when Andrea liu'd; We haue forgotten and forgiuen that, And thou art graced with a happeir loue. But, Balthazar, heere comes Hieronimo; Ile haue a word with him.

Enter HIERONIMO and a SERUANT.

HIERO. And wheres the duke?

SER. Yonder.

HIERO. Euen so. [aside] What new deuice haue they deuised, tro? Pocas palabras! Milde as the lambe! Ist I will be reueng'd? No, I am not the man.

CAS. Welcome, Hieronimo!

LOR. Welcome, Hieronimo!

BAL. Welcome, Hieronimo!

HIERO. My lords, I thank you for Horatio.

CAS. Hieronimo, the reason that I sent To speak with you is this—

HIERO. What? so short? Then Ile be gone; I thank you fort!

CAS. Nay, stay, Hieronimo; goe call him, sonne.

LOR. Hieronimo, my father craues a word with you.

HIERO. With me, sir? Why, my l[ord], I thought you had done.

LOR. [aside] No; would he had!

CAS. Hieronimo, I hear You finde your-selfe agreeued at my sonne, Because you haue not accesse vnto the king, And say tis he that intercepts your sutes.

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 noble 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 hell! 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 hell! Hieronimo with Lorenzo is ioynde in league, And intecepts our passage 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 passions, 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 Assures thee to be causeles slaughtered? Hieronimo! for shame, Hieronimo, Be not a history to after times Of such ingratitude 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. I found a letter, written in your name, And in that letter, how Horatio died. Pardon, O pardon, Bel-imperia, My feare and care in not beleeuing it! Nor thinke I thoughtles thinke vpon a meane To let his death be vnreuenge'd at full. And heere I vow, so you but giue consent And will conceale my resolution, I will ere long determine of their deathes That causeles thus haue murderd my sonne.

BEL. Hieronimo, I will consent, conceale, And ought that may effect for thine auaile, Ioyne with thee to reuenge Horatios death.

HIER. On then, [and] whatsoeuer I deuise, Let me entreat you grace my practice, For-why the plots already in mine head.— Heere they are!

Enter BALTHAZAR and LORENZO.

BAL. How now, Hieronimo? What, courting Bel-imperia?

HIERO. I, my lord, Such courting as, I promise you, She hath my hart, but you, my lord, haue hers.

LOR. But now, Hieronmimo, or neuer we are to intreate your helpe.

HIE. My help? why, my good lords, assure your-selues of me; For you haue giuen me cause,—I, by my faith, haue you!

BAL. It pleasde you at the entertainment of the embassadour, To grace the King so much as with a shew; Now were your stuide so well furnished As, for the passing of the first nights sport, To entertaine my father with the like, Or any such like pleasing motion, Assure yourselfe it would content them well.

HIERO. Is this all?

BAL. I, this is all.

HIERO. While then ile fit you; say no more. When I was yong I gaue my minde And plide my-selfe to fruitles poetrie, Which, though it profite the professor naught, Yet is it passing pleasing to the world.

LOR. And how for that?

HIERO. Marrie, my good lord, thus.— And yet, me thinks, you are too quick with vs!— When in Tolledo there I studied, It was my chaunce to write a tragedie,— See heere, my lords,—

He showes them a book.

Which, long forgot, I found this other day. Nor would your lordships fauour me so much As but to grace me with your acting it, I meane each one of you to play a part. Assure you it will proue most passing strange And wondrous plausible to that assembly.

BAL. What, would you haue vs play a tragedie?

HIERO. Why, Nero thought it no disparagement, And kings and emperours haue tane delight To make experience of their wit in plaies!

LOR. Nay, be not angry, good Hieronimo; The prince but asked a question.

BAL. In faith, Hieronimo, and you be in earnest, Ile make one.

LOR. And I another.

HIERO. Now, my good lord, could you intreat, Your sister, Bel-imperia, to make one,— For whats a play without a woman in it?

BEL. Little intreaty shall serue me, Hieronimo, For I must needs be imployed in your play.

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

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

HIERO. That shall I roundly. The cronicles of Spaine Recorde this written of a knight of Rodes; He was betrothed, and wedded at the length, To one Perseda, an Italian dame, Whose beatuie rauished all that her behelde, Especially the soule of Soliman, Who at the marriage was the cheefest guest. By sundry meanes sought Soliman to winne Persedas loue, and could not gaine the same. Then gan he break his passions to a freend, One of his bashawes whome he held full deere. Her has this bashaw long solicited, And saw she was not otherwise to be wonne But by her husbands death, this knight of Rodes, Whome presently by trecherie his slew. She, stirde with an exceeding hate therefore, As cause of this, slew [Sultan] Soliman, And, to escape the bashawes tirannie, Did stab her-selfe. And this [is] the tragedie.

LOR. O, excellent!

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

HIERO. Marrie thus: moued with remorse of his misdeeds, Ran to a mountain top and hung himselfe.

BAL. But which of vs is to performe that part?

HIERO. O, that will I, my lords; make no doubt of it; Ile play the murderer, I warrent you; For I already haue conceited that.

BAL. And what shall I?

HIERO. Great Soliman, the Turkish emperour.

LOR. And I?

HIERO. Erastus, the knight of Rhodes.

BEL. And I?

HIERO. Perseda, chaste and resolute. And heere, my lords, are seueral abstracts drawne, For eache of you to note your [seuerall] partes. And act it as occasion's offred you. You must prouide [you with] a Turkish cappe, A black moustache and a fauchion.

Giues paper to BAL[THAZAR].

You with a crosse, like a knight of Rhodes.

Giues another to LOR[ENZO].

And, madame, you must [then] attire your-selfe

He giueth BEL[-IMPERIA] another.

Like Phoebe, Flora, or the huntresse [Dian], Which to your discretion shall seeme best. And as for me, my lords, Ile looke to one, And with the raunsome that the vice-roy sent So furnish and performe this tragedie As all the world shall say Hieronimo Was liberall in gracing of it so.

BAL. Hieronimo, me thinks a comedie were better.

HIERO. A comedie? fie! comedies are fit for common wits; But to present a kingly troupe withall, Giue me a stately-written tragedie,— Tragedia cothurnata, fitting kings, Containing matter, and not common things! My lords, all this [our sport] must be perfourmed, As fitting, for the first nights reuelling. The Italian tragedians were so sharpe Of wit that in one houres meditation They would performe any-thing in action.

LOR. And well it may, for I haue seene the like In Paris, mongst the French tragedians.

HIERO. In Paris? mas, and well remembered!— Theres one thing more that rests for vs to doo.

BAL. Whats that, Hieronimo? Forget not any-thing.

HIERO. Each one of vs Must act his parte in vnknowne languages, That it may breede the more varietie: As you, my lord, in Latin, I in Greeke, 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 meane to try my cunning then, Hieronimo!

BAL. But this will be a meere confusion, And hardly shall we all be vnderstoode.

HEIRO. It must be so; for the conclusion Shall proue the inuention and all was good; And I my-selfe in an oration, That I will haue there behinde a curtaine, And with a strange and wondrous shew besides, Assure your-selfe, shall make the matter knowne. And all shalbe concluded in once scene, For theres no pleasure tane in tediousnes.

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

LOR. Why thus, my lord, we must resolue, To soothe his humors vp.

BAL. On then, Hieronimo; farewell till soone!

HIERO. You plie this geere?

LOR. I warrant you.

Exeuent all but HIERONIMO.

HIERO. Why, so! now shall I see the fall of Babilon Wrought by the heauens in this confusion. And, if the world like not this tragedie, Hard is the hap of olde Hieronimo.

Exit.



[ACT IV. SCENE 2.]

[HIERONIMO's garden.]

Enter ISABELLA with a weapon.

[ISA.] Tell me no more! O monstrous homicides! Since neither pietie nor pittie moues The king to iustice or compassion, I will reuenge my-selfe vpon this place, Where thus they murdered my beloued sonne.

She cuts downe the arbour.

Downe with these branches and these loathsome bowes On this vnfortunate and fatall pine! Downe with them, Isabella; rent them vp, And burnes the roots from whence the rest is sprung! I will leaue not a root, a stalke, a tree, A bowe, a branch, a blossome, nor a leafe,— Not, not a hearb within this garden plot, Accursed complot of my miserie! Fruitlesse for-euer may this garden be, Barren the earth, and blislesse whosoeuer Immagines not to keep it vnmanurde! An easterne winde comixt with noisome aires Shall blast the plants and yong saplings [here], The earth with serpents shalbe pestered, And passengers, for feare to be infect, Shall stand aloofe, and, looking at it, tell There murdred dide the sonne of Isabell. I, heere he dide, and heere I him imbrace! See where his ghoast solicites with his wounds Reuenge on her that should reuenge his death! Hieronimo, make haste to see thy sonne, For Sorrow and Dispaire hath scited me To heare Horatio plead with Radamant. Make haste, Hieronimo, to holde excusde Thy negligence in pursute of their deaths Whose hatefull wrath breau'd him of his breath. Ah, nay; thou dost delay their deaths, Forgiues the murderers of thy noble sonne; And none but I bestirre me,—to no end! And, as I cursse this tree from further fruit, So shall my wombe be cursed for his sake; And with this weapon will I wound this brest,— That haples brest that gaue Horatio suck!

She stabs her-selfe.



[ACT IV. SCENE 3.]

[The DUKE's castle.]

Enter HIERONIMO; he knocks up the curtaine. Enter the DUKE OF CASTILE.

CAS. How now, Hieronimo? wheres your fellows, That you take all this paine?

HIERO. O sir, it is for the authors credit To look that all things may goe well. But, good my lord, let me intreat your Grace To giue the king the coppie of the plaie: This is the argument of what we shew.

CAS. I will, Hieronimo.

HIERO. One more thing, my good lord.

CAS. Whats that?

HIERO. Let me intreat your Grace That, when the traine are past into the gallerie, You would vouchsafe to throwe me downe the key.

CAS. I will Hieronimo.

Exit CAS[TILE].

HIERO. What, are you ready, Balthazar? Bring a chaire and a cushion for the king.

Enter BALTHAZAR with a chaire.

Well doon, Balthazar; hang vp the title: Our scene is Rhodes. What, is your beard on?

BAL. Halfe on, the other is in my hand.

HIERO. Dispatch, for shame! are you so long?

Exit BALTHAZAR.

Bethink thy-selfe, Hieronimo, Recall thy wits, recompt thy former wrongs Thou hast receiued by murder of thy sonne, And lastly, [but] not least, how Isabell, Once his mother and [my] deerest wife, All woe-begone for him, hath slaine her-selfe. Behoues thee then, Hieronimo, to be Reueng'd! The plot is laide of dire reuenge: On then, Hieronimo; persue reuenge, For nothing wants but acting of reuenge!

Exit HIERONIMO.

Enter SPANISH KING, VICE-ROY, the DUKE OF CASTILE, and their traine, [to the gallery].

KING. Now, viceroy, shall we see the tragedie Of Soliman, the Turkish emperour, Performde by pleasure by yor sonne the prince, My nephew Don Lorenzo, and my neece.

VICE. Who? Bel-imperia?

KING. I; and Hieronimo our marshall, At whose request they deine to doo't themselues. These be our pastimes in the court of Spaine. Heere, brother, you shall be the booke-keeper: This is the argument of that they shew.

He giueth him a booke.

[Gentlemen, this play of Hieronimo in sundrie languages was thought good to be set downe in English more largely, for the easier vnderstanding to euery publique reader.]

Enter BALTHAZAR, BEL-IMPERIA, and HIERONIMO.

BALTHAZAR. [acting] Bashaw, that Rhodes is ours yeeld Heauens the honor And holy Mahhomet, our sacred prophet! And be thou grac't with euery excelence That Soliman can giue or thou desire! But thy desert in conquering Rhodes is lesse Then in reseruing this faire Christian nimph, Perseda, blisfull lamp of excellence, Whose eies compell, like powerfull adamant, The warlike heart of Soliman to wait.

KING. See, vice-roy, that is Balthazar your sonne, That represents the Emperour Solyman: How well he acts his amorous passion!

VICE. I; Bel-imperia hath taught him that.

CASTILE: That's because his mind runnes al on Bel-imperia.

HIERO. [acting] What-euer ioy earth yeelds betide your Maiestie!

BALT. [acting] Earth yeelds no ioy without Persedaes loue.

HIERO. [acting] Let then Peerseda on your Grace attend.

BALT. [acting] She shall not wait on me, but I on her! Drawne by the influence of her lights, I yeeld. But let my friend, the Rhodian knight, come foorth,— Erasto, dearer then my life to me,— That he may see Perseda, my beloued.

Enter ERASTO [LORENZO].

KING. Heere comes Lorenzo: looke vpon the plot And tell me, brother, what part plaies he.

BEL. [acting] Ah, my Erasto! Welcome to Perseda!

LO. [acting] Thrice happie is Erasto that thou liuest! Rhodes losse is nothing to Erastoes ioy; Sith his Perseda liues, his life suruiues.

BALT. [acting] Ah, bashaw, heere is loue betweene Erasto And faire Perseda, soueraigne of my soule!

HIERO. [acting] Remooue Erasto, mighty Solyman, And then Perseda will be quickly wonne.

BALT. [acting] Erasto is my friend; and, while he liues, Perseda neuer will remooue her loue.

HIERO. [acting] Let not Erasto liue to greeue great Soliman!

BALT. [acting] Deare is Erasto in our princely eye.

HIERO. [acting] But, if he be your riuall, let him die!

BALT. [acting] Why, let him die! so loue commaundeth me. Yet I greeve I that Erasto should so die.

HIERO. [acting] Erasto, Soliman saluteth thee, And lets thee wit by me his Highnes will, Which is, thou shouldst be thus imploid.

Stab him.

BEL. [acting] Ay, me, Erasto! See, Solyman, Erastoes slaine!

BALT. [acting] Yet liueth Solyman to comfort thee. Faire queene of beautie, let not fauour die, Both with gratious eye behlde his griefe, That with Persedaes beautie is encreast, If by Perseda griefe be not releast.

BEL. [acting] Tyrant, desist soliciting vaine sutes; Relentles are mine eares to thy laments As thy butcher is pittilesse and base Which seazd on my Erasto, harmelesse knight. Yet by thy power thou thinkest to commaund, And to thy power Perseda doth obey; But, were she able, thus she would reuenge Thy treacheries on thee, ignoble prince;

Stab him.

And on herselfe she would be thus reuengd.

Stab herselfe.

KING. Well said, old marshall! this was brauely done!

HIERO. But Bel-imperia plauies Perseda well.

VICE. Were this in earnest, Bel-imperia, You would be better to my sonne then so.

KING. But now what followes for Hieronimo?

HIERO. Marrie, this followes for Hieronimo! Heere breake we off our sundrie languages, And thus conclude I in our vulgare tung: Happely you think—but bootles are your thoughts— That this is fabulously counterfeit, And that we doo as all trageians doo,— To die to-day, for fashioning our scene, The death of Aiax, or some Romaine peer, And, in a minute starting vp againe, Reuiue to please tomorrows audience. No, princes; know I am Hieronimo, The hopeles father of a haples sonne, Whose tung is tun'd to tell his latest tale, Not to excuse grosse errors in the play. I see your lookes vrge instance of these words: Beholde the reason vrging me to this!

Showes his dead sonne.

See heere my shew; look on this spectacle! Heere lay my hope, and heere my hope hath end; Heere lay my hart, and heere my hart was slaine; Heere lay my treasure, heere my treasure lost; Heere lay my blisse, and heere my blisse bereft. But hope, hart, treasure, ioy and blisse,— All fled, faild, died, yea, all decaide with this. From froth these wounds came breath that gaue me life; They murdred me that made these fatall markes. The cause was loue whence grew this mortall hate: The hate, Lorenzo and yong Balthazar; The loue, my sonne to Bel-imperia. But night, the couerer of accursed crimes, With pitchie silence husht these traitors harmes, And lent them leaue—for they had sorted leasure— To take aduantage in my garden plot Vpon my sonne, my deere Horatio. There mercilesse they butcherd vp my boy, In black, darke night, to pale, dim, cruell death! He shrikes; I heard—and yet, me thinks, I heare— His dismall out-cry eccho in the aire; With soonest speed I hasted to the noise, Where, hanging on a tree, I found my sonne Through-girt with wounds and slaughtred, as you see. And greeued I, think you, at this spectacle? Speak, Portuguise, whose losse resembles mine! If thou canst weep vpon thy Balthazar, Tis like I wailde for my Horatio. And you, my l[ord], whose reconciled sonne Marcht in a net and thought himself vnseene, And rated me for a brainsicke lunacie, With "God amend that mad Hieronimo!"— How can you brook our plaies catastrophe? And heere beholde this bloudie hand-kercher, Which at Horatios death weeping dipt Within the riuer of his bleeding wounds! It as propitious, see, I haue reserued, And neuer hath it left my bloody hart, Soliciting remembrance of my vow With these, O these accursed murderers! Which now perform'd, my hart is satisfied. And to this end the bashaw I became, That might reuenge me on Lorenzos life, Who therefore was appointed to the part And was to represent the knight of Rhodes, That I might kill him more conueniently. So, vice-roy, was this Balthazar thy sonne— That Soliman which Bel-imperia In person of Perseda murdered,— So[le]lie appointed to that tragicke part, That she might slay him that offended her. Poore Bel-imperia mist her part in this: For, though the story saith she should haue died, Yet I, of kindenes and care for her, Did otherwise determine of her end. But loue of him whome they did hate too much Did vrge her resolution to be such. And princes, now beholde Hieronimo, Author and actor in this tragedie, Bearing his latest fortune in his fist; And will as resolute conclude his parte As any of the actors gone before. And, gentles, thus I end my play! Vrge no more words, I haue no more to say.

He runs to hang himselfe.

KING. O hearken, vice-roy; holde Hieronimo! Brother, my newphew and they sonne are slaine!

VICE. We are betraide! my Balthazar is slaine! Breake ope the doores; runne saue Hieronimo! Hieronimo, doe but enforme the king of these euents; Vpon mine honour, thou shalt haue no harme!

HIERO. Vice-roy, I will not trust thee with my life, Which I this day haue offered to my sonne: Accursed wretch, why staiest thou him that was resolued to die?

KING. Speak, traitor! damned, bloudy murderer, speak!— For, now I haue thee, I wil make thee speak! Why hast thou done this vndeseruing deed?

VICE. Why hast thou murdered my Balthazar?

CAS. Why hast thou butchered both my children thus?

HIERO. O good words! As deare to me was Horatio As yours, or yours, my l[ord], to you. My guitles sonne was by Lorenzo slaine; And by Lorenzo and that Balthazar Am I at last reuenged thorowly,— Vpon whole soules may Heauens be yet auenged With far greater far then these afflictions!

CAS. But who were thy confederates in this?

VICE. That was thy daughter Bel-imperia; For by her hand my Balthazar was slaine,— I saw her stab him.

KING. Why speakest thou not?

HIERO. What lesser libertie can kings affoord Then harmles silence? That afford it me! Sufficeth I may not nor I will not tell thee.

KING. Fetch forth the tortures! Traitor as thou art, Ile make thee tell!

HIERO. Indeed? Thou maiest torment me as his wretched sonne Hath done in murdring my Horatio; But neuer shalt thou force me to reueale The thing which I haue vowed inviolate. And therefore, in despight of all thy threats, Pleasde with their deaths, and easde with their reuenge, First take my tung, and afterwards my hart!

He bites out his tongue.

KING. O monstrous resolution of a wretch! See, Vice-Roy, he hath bitten foorth his tung Rather than reueale what we requirde.

CAS. Yet can he write.

KING. And if in this he satisfie vs not, We will deuise the 'xtreamest kinde of death That euer was inuented for a wretch.

Then he makes signes for a knife to mend his pen.

CAS. O, he would haue a knife to mend his pen.

VICE. Here; and aduise thee that thou write the troth,— Look to my brother! saue Hieronimo!

He with a knife stabs the DUKE and himself.

KING. What age hath euer heard such monstrous deeds? My brother and the whole succeeding hope That Spaine expected after my dicease. Go beare his body hence, that we may mourne The losse of our beloued brothers death, That he may be entom'd, what-ere befall. I am the next, the neerest, last of all.

VICE. And thou, Don Pedro, do the like for vs: Take vp our haples sonne vntimely slaine; Set me vp with him, and he with wofull me, Vpon the maine-mast of a ship vnmand, And let the winde and tide [hale] me along To Sillas barking and vntamed gulfe Or to the lothsome poole of Archeron, To weepe my want for my sweet Balthazar. Spaine hath no refuge for a Portingale!

The trumpets sound a dead march, the KING OF SPAINE mourning after his brothers body, and the KING OF PORTINGALE bearing the body of his sonne.

[CHORUS.]

Enter GHOAST and REUENGE.

GHOAST. I; now my hopes haue end in their effects, When blood and sorrow finnish my desires: Horatio murdered in his Fathers bower, Vilde Serberine by Pedrigano slaine, False Pedrigano hang'd by quaint deuice, Faire Isabella by her-selfe misdone, Prince Balthazar by Bel-imepria stabd, The Duke of Castile an his wicked sonne Both done to death by olde Hieronimo, My Bel-imperia falne as Dido fell, And good Hieronimo slaine by himselfe! I, these were spectacles to please my soule. Now will I beg at louely Proserpine That, by the vertue of her princely doome, I may consort my freends in pleasing sort, And on my foes work iust and sharpe reuenge. Ile lead my freend Horatio through those feeldes Where neuer-dying warres are still inurde; Ile lead faire Isabella to that traine Where pittie weepes but neuer feeleth paine; Ile lead my Bel-imperia to those ioyes That vestal virgins and faire queenes possess; Ile lead Hieronimo where Orpheus plaies, Adding sweet pleasure to eternall daies. But say, Reuenge,—for thou must helpe or none,— Against the rest how shall my hate be showne?

REUENGE. This hand shall hale them down to deepest hell, Where none but furies, bugs and tortures dwell.

GHOAST. Then, sweet Reuenge, doo this at my request: Let me iudge and doome them to vnrest; Let loose poore Titius from the vultures gripe, And let Don Ciprian supply his roome; Place Don Lorenzo on Ixions wheele, And let the louers endles paines surcease, Iuno forget olde wrath and graunt him ease; Hang Balthazar about Chimeras neck, And let him there bewaile his bloudy loue, Repining at our ioyes that are aboue; Let Serberine goe roule the fatall stone And take from Siciphus his endles mone; False Pedringano, for his trecherie, Let him be dragde through boyling Acheron, And there liue dying still in endles flames, Blaspheming gods and all their holy names.

REUENGE. Then haste we downe to meet thy freends and foes; To place thy freends in ease, the rest in woes. For heere though death [doth] end their miserie, Ile there begin their endles tragedie.

Exeunt.



FINIS.