Part 19

[282] “In omni adversitate fortunæ infelicissimum genus infortunii est fuisse felicem.”--Boet: _De Consol Philos._ L. II.

Dante translates the passage thus--

“Nessun maggior dolore, Che ricordarsi del tempo felice Nella miseria.” --_Inferno_, c. v.

Fortiguerri follows him in these lines--

“E perchè rimembrare il ben perduto Fa piu meschino lo stato presente.” --_Ricciardetto_, c. xi., st. 81.

[283] [The writer seems to have had in his memory the fourth eclogue of Virgil.]

[284] Printed _benthe_.

THE FIRST PART

OF

JERONIMO.

_EDITION._

_The First Part of Ieronimo. With the Warres of Portugall, and the Life and Death of Don Andræa. Printed at London, for Thomas Pauyer, and are to be solde at his shop, at the entrance into the Exchange. 1605. 4to. Black letter._

[PREFACE TO THE FORMER EDITION.][285]

From Heywood’s[286] “Apology for Actors,” it appears that Thomas Kyd was the author of the “Spanish Tragedy, or Hieronimo is Mad again.” But whether he likewise wrote this “First Part of Jeronimo” does not appear.

This “First Part of Jeronimo” is so scarce that many have doubted whether it ever existed; and Mr Coxeter and the author of the “Playhouse Dictionary” were of opinion, that what is called the “Spanish Tragedy, or Hieronimo is Mad again,” was only the old play altered and new-named. Ben Jonson has a passage in the induction to “Cynthia’s Revels,” 1600, that seems to favour that opinion: “Another swears down all that sit about him, that the old Hieronimo, as it was first acted, was the only best and judiciously pen’d play of Europe.”

They were, however, two distinct plays, as appears from this copy of the first part, which is printed from one in the valuable collection of David Garrick, Esq.

From another passage in the induction to “Cynthia’s Revels,” acted in 1600, it may be conjectured, that “Jeronimo” first appeared on the stage about the year 1588.[287] “They say (says one of the children of the Queen’s Chapel) the ghosts of some three or four plays, _departed a dozen years since_, have been seen walking on your stage here.”

THE FIRST PART OF JERONIMO.

[_Sound a Signet,[288] and pass over the Stage. Enter at one door the King of Spain, Duke of Castile, Duke Medina_, LORENZO, _and_ ROGERO; _at another door_, ANDREA, HORATIO, _and_ JERONIMO. JERONIMO _kneels down, and the King creates him Marshal of Spain_; LORENZO _puts on his Spurs,[289] and_ ANDREA _his sword. The King goes along with_ JERONIMO _to his House; after a long Signet is sounded, enter all the Nobles, with covered dishes, to the Banquet. Exeunt omnes. That done, enter all again as before._]

SPAIN. Frolic, Jeronimo! thou art now confirmed Marshal of Spain by all the dues And customary rights unto thy office.

JER. My knee sings thanks unto your highness’ bounty.-- Come hither, boy Horatio; fold thy joints; Kneel by thy father’s loins, and thank my liege, By honouring me, thy mother, and thyself, With this high staff of office.

HOR. O my liege, I have a heart thrice stronger than my years, And that shall answer gratefully for me. Let not my youthful blush impair my valour: If ever you have foes, or red field-scars, I’ll empty all my veins to serve your wars; I’ll bleed for you; and more, what speech affords, I’ll speak in drops, when I do fail in words.

JER. Well spoke, my boy; and on thy father’s side.-- My liege, how like you Don Horatio’s spirit? What! doth it promise fair?

SPAIN. Ay, And no doubt his merit will purchase more. Knight Marshal, rise, and still rise Higher and greater in thy sovereign’s eyes.

JER. O fortunate hour! bless’d minute! happy day! Able to ravish even my sense away! Now I remember too--O sweet remembrance!-- This day my years strike fifty, and in Rome They call the fifty year the year of jubilee, The merry year, the peaceful year, [the] jocund year, A year of joy, of pleasure and delight; This shall be my year of jubilee, for ’tis my fifty. Age ushers honour; ’tis no shame; confess: Beard, thou art fifty full, not a hair less.

_Enter an_ EMBASSADOR.

SPAIN. How now? what news for[290] Spain? tribute returned?

EMB. Tribute in words, my liege, but not in coin.

SPAIN. Ha! dare he still procrastinate with Spain? Not tribute paid! not three years paid! ’Tis not at his coin, But his slack homage, that we most repine.

JER. My liege, if my opinion might stand firm Within your highness’ thoughts----

SPAIN. Marshal, Our kingdom calls thee father; therefore speak free. Thy counsel I’ll embrace, as I do thee.

JER. I thank your highness. Then, my gracious liege, I hold it meet, by way of embassage, To demand his mind, and the neglect of tribute. But, my liege, Here must be kind words, which doth oft besiege The ears of rough-hewn tyrants more than blows; O, a politic speech beguiles the ears of foes. Marry, my liege, mistake me not, I pray; If friendly phrases, honey’d speech, bewitching accent, Well-tuned melody, and all sweet gifts Of nature, cannot avail or win him to it, Then let him raise his gall up to his tongue, And be as bitter as physicians’ drugs, Stretch his mouth wider with big swoll’n phrases. O, here’s a lad of mettle, stout Don Andrea, Mettle to the crown, Would shake the king’s high court three handfuls down.

SPAIN. And well picked out, Knight Marshal; speech well-strung; I’d rather choose Horatio, were he not so young.

HOR. I humbly thank your highness, In placing me next unto his royal bosom.

SPAIN. How stand ye, lords, to this election?

OMNES. Right pleasing, our dread sovereign.

MED. Only, with pardon, mighty sovereign----

CAST. I should have chosen Don Lorenzo.

MED. I, Don Rogero.

ROG. O no; not me, my lords, I am war’s champion, and my fees are swords. Pray, king, pray, peers, let it be Don Andrea; He is a worthy limb, Loves wars and soldiers; therefore I love him.

JER. And I love him and thee, valiant Rogero. Noble spirits, gallant bloods; You are no wise, insinuating lords, You ha’ no tricks, you ha’ none of all their sleights.

LOR. So, so, Andrea must be sent embassador; Lorenzo is not thought upon: good! I’ll wake the court, or startle out some blood.

SPAIN. How stand you, lords, to this election?

OMNES. Right pleasing, our dread sovereign.

SPAIN. Then, Don Andrea----

AND. My approved liege.

SPAIN. We make thee our lord high embassador.

AND. Your highness circles me with honour’s bounds; I shall discharge the weight of your command With best respect: if friendly-tempered phrase Cannot affect the virtue of your charge, I will be hard like thunder, and as rough As northern tempests, or the vexed bowels Of too insulting waves, who at one blow Five merchants’ wealths into the deep doth throw. I’ll threaten crimson wars----

ROG. Aye, aye, that’s good; Let them keep coin, pay tribute with their blood.

SPAIN. Farewell, then, Don Andrea; to thy charge. Lords, let us in; joy shall be now our guest: Let’s in to celebrate our second feast. [_Exeunt omnes, manet_ LORENZO _solus._

LOR. Andrea’s gone embassador; Lorenzo is not dreamt on in this age. Hard fate, When villains sit not in the highest state! Ambition’s plumes, that flourished in our court, Severe authority has dashed with justice; And policy and pride walk like two exiles, Giving attendance, that were once attended; And we rejected, that were once high-honoured. I hate Andrea; ’cause he aims at honour, When my purest thoughts work in a pitchy vale, Which are as different as heaven and hell. One peers for day, the other gapes for night. That yawning beldam, with her jetty skin-- ’Tis she I hug as mine effeminate bride, For such complexions best appease my pride. I have a lad in pickle of this stamp, A melancholy, discontented courtier, Whose famished jaws look like the chap of death; Upon whose eyebrows hangs damnation; Whose hands are washed in rape and murders bold: Him with a golden bait will I allure (For courtiers will do anything for gold), To be Andrea’s death at his return. He loves my sister, that shall cost his life; So she a husband, he shall lose a wife. O sweet, sweet policy, I hug thee! good; Andrea’s Hymen’s-draught shall be in blood. [_Exit._

_Enter_ HORATIO _at one door_, ANDREA _at another._

HOR. Whither in such haste, my second self?

AND. I’faith, my dear bosom, to take solemn leave Of a most weeping creature.

HOR. That’s a woman.

_Enter_ BELL’-IMPERIA.

AND. That’s Bell’-Imperia.

HOR. See, see, she meets you here: And what is it to love, and be lov’d dear!

BEL. I have heard of your honour, gentle breast, I do not like it now so well, methinks.

AND. What! not to have honour bestowed on me?

BEL. O, yes; but not a wandering honour, dear; I could afford well, diddest thou stay here. Could honour melt itself into thy veins, And thou the fountain, I could wish it so, If thou wouldst remain here with me, and not go.

AND. ’Tis but to Portugal.

HOR. But to demand the tribute, lady.

BEL. Tribute! alas, that Spain cannot of peace Forbear a little coin, the Indies being so near. And yet this is not all: I know you are too hot, Too full of spleen for an embassador, And will lean much to honour.

AND. Pish![291]

BEL. Nay, hear me, dear! I know you will be rough And violent; and Portugal hath a tempestuous son, Stamp’d with the mark of fury, and you too.

AND. Sweet Bell’-Imperia!

BEL. You’ll[292] meet like thunder, each imperious Over other’s spleen; you have both proud spirits, And both will strive to aspire. When Two vexed clouds justle, they strike out fire: And you, I fear me, war, which peace forefend. O dear Andrea, pray, let’s have no wars! First let them pay the soldiers that were maimed In the last battle, ere more wretches fall, Or walk on stilts to timeless funeral.

AND. Respective dear! O my life’s happiness! The joy of all my being! do not shape Frightful conceit beyond the intent of act! I know thy love is vigilant o’er my blood, And fears ill-fate which heaven hath yet withstood. But be of comfort; sweet Horatio knows I go to knit friends, not to kindle foes.

HOR. True, madam Bell’-Imperia, that’s his task: The phrase he useth must be gently styled, The king hath warned him to be smooth and mild.

BEL. But will you, indeed, Andrea?

AND. By this.

BEL. By this lip-blushing kiss.

HOR. O, you swear sweetly.

BEL. I’ll keep your oath for you, till you return, Then I’ll be sure you shall not be forsworn.

_Enter_ PEDRINGANO.

AND. Ho, Pedringano!

PED. Signior?

AND. Are all things aboard?

PED. They are, my good lord.

AND. Then. Bell’-Imperia, I take leave; Horatio Be, in my absence, my dear self, chaste self.-- What! playing the woman, Bell’-Imperia? Nay, then you love me not; or, at the least, You drown my honours in those flowing waters. Believe it, Bell’-Imperia, ’tis as common To weep at parting, as to be a woman. Love me more valiant; play not this moist prize; Be woman in all parts save in thy eyes. And so I leave thee.

BEL. Farewell, my lord: Be mindful of my love and of your word.

AND. ’Tis fixed upon my heart; adieu, soul’s friend!

HOR. All honour on Andrea’s steps attend.

BEL. Yet he is in sight, and yet but now he’s vanished. [_Exit_ ANDREA.

HOR. Nay, lady, if you stoop so much to passion, I’ll call him back again.

BEL. O good Horatio, no; it is for honour. Pr’y-thee, let him go.

HOR. Then, madam, be composed, as you were wont, To music and delight; the time being comic, will Seem short and pleasant, till his return From Portugal. And, madam, in this circle Let your heart move; Honoured promotion is the sap of love. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ LORENZO _and_ LAZAROTTO, _a discontented Courtier._

LOR. Come, my soul’s spaniel, my life’s jetty substance, What’s thy name?

LAZ. My name ’s an honest name, a courtier’s name: ’Tis Lazarotto.

LOR. What, Lazarotto!

LAZ. Or rather rotting in this lazy age That yields me no employments: I have mischief Within my breast, more than my bulk[293] can hold: I want a midwife to deliver it.

LOR. I’ll be the he-one then, and rid thee soon Of this dull, leaden, and tormenting elf. Thou know’st the love betwixt Bell’-Imperia and Andrea’s bosom?

LAZ. Aye, I do.

LOR. How might I cross it, my sweet mischief? Honey-damnation, how?

LAZ. Well: As many ways as there are paths to hell, And that’s enou’, i’ faith. From usurer’s door-- There goes one path: from friars that nurse whores-- There goes another path: from brokers’ stalls, From rich that die and build no hospitals-- Two other paths: from farmers that crack barns With stuffing corn, yet starve the needy swarms-- Another path: from drinking-schools one-- From dicing-houses--but from the court, none, none.

LOR. Here is a slave just of the stamp I wish; Whose ink-soul’s blacker than his name, Though it stand printed with a raven’s quill. [_Aside._

But, Lazarotto, cross my sister’s love, And I’ll rain showers of ducats in thy palm.

LAZ. O duckets, dainty ducks; forgive me, duckets, I’ll fetch you duck enough for gold; and chink Makes the punk wanton and the bawd to wink.

LOR. Discharge, discharge, good Lazarotto, How we may cross my sister’s loving hopes.

LAZ. Nay, now I’ll tell you.

LOR. Thou knowest Andrea’s gone embassador.

LAZ. The better; there is opportunity: Now list to me.

_Enter_ JERONIMO _and_ HORATIO, _and overhear their talk._

Alcario, the Duke Medina’s son, Doats on your sister Bell’-Imperia: Him in her private gallery you shall place To court her; let his protestations be Fashioned with rich jewels,[294] for in love Great gifts and gold have the best tongue to move. Let him not spare an oath without a jewel To bind it fast: O, I know women’s hearts, What stuff they are made of, my lord: gifts and giving Will melt the chastest-seeming female living.

LOR. Indeed Andrea is but poor, though honourable; His bounty among soldiers soaks him dry, And their o’er-great gifts may bewitch her eye.

JER. Here’s no fine villainy, no damned brother! [_Aside._

LOR. But say she should deny his gifts, be all Composed of hate, as my mind gives me that She will: what then?

LAZ. Then thus: at his return To Spain, I’ll murder Don Andrea.

LOR. Dar’st thou, spirit?

LAZ. What dares not he do, that ne’er hopes t’inherit?

HOR. He dares be damn’d like thee. [_Aside._

LAZ. Dare I? Ha, ha! I have no hope of everlasting height, My soul’s a Moor, you know, salvation’s white. What dare I not enact then? Tush, he dies; I will make way to Bell’-Imperia’s eyes.

LOR. To weep, I fear, but not to tender love.

LAZ. Why, is she not a woman? she must weep Awhile, as widows use, till their first sleep; Who in the morrow following will be sold To new, before the first are throughly cold. So Bell’-Imperia; for this is common; The more she weeps, the more she plays the woman.

LOR. Come then, howe’er it hap, Andrea shall be cross’d.

LAZ. Let me alone, I’ll turn him to a ghost. [_Exeunt_ LORENZO _and_ LAZAROTTO. _Manent_ JERONIMO _and_ HORATIO.[295]

JER. Farewell, true brace of villains; Come hither, boy Horatio, didst thou hear them?

HOR. O my true-breasted father, my ears Have suck’d in poison, deadly poison: Murder Andrea! O inhuman practice! Had not your reverend years been present here, I should have poniarded the villain’s bowels, And shoved his soul out to damnation. Murder Andrea! honest lord! impious villains!

JER. I like thy true heart, boy; thou lov’st thy friend: It is the greatest argument and sign, That I begot thee, for it shows thou ’rt mine.

HOR. O father, ’tis a charitable deed To prevent those that would make virtue bleed! I’ll despatch letters to Don Andrea; Unfold their hellish practice, damn’d intent, Against the virtuous rivers of his life. Murder Andrea!

_Enter_ ISABELLA.

JER. Peace: who comes here? news, news, Isabella.

ISA. What news, Jeronimo?

JER. Strange news: Lorenzo is become an honest man.

ISA. Is this your wondrous news?

JER. Is it not wondrous To have honesty in hell? go, tell it abroad now; But see you put no new additions to it, As thus--shall I tell you, gossip? Lorenzo is Become an honest man:--beware, beware; for honesty, Spoken in derision, points out knavery. O, then, take heed; that jest would not be trim, He’s a great man, therefore we must not knave him. In, gentle soul; I’ll not be long away, As short my body, short shall be my stay.[296] [_Exit_ ISABELLA.

HOR. Murder Andrea! what blood-sucking slave Could choke bright honour in a scabbard grave!

JER. What, harping still upon Andrea’s death? Have courage, boy: I shall prevent their plots, And make them both stand like two politic sots.

HOR. Lorenzo has a reach as far as hell To hook the devil from his flaming cell: O sprightly father, he’ll outreach you then; Knaves longer reaches have than honest men.

JER. But, boy, fear not, I will outstretch them all, My mind’s a giant, though my bulk be small.[297] [_Exeunt._

_Enter the_ KING OF PORTUGAL, BALTHEZAR, ALEXANDRO, DON VOLLUPO, _and others: a Peal of Ordnance; within, a great shout of People._

KING. What is the meaning of this loud report?

ALEX. An embassy, my lord, is new arrived from Spain.

KING. Son Balthezar, we pray, do you go meet him, And do him all the honour that belongs him.

BAL. Father, my best endeavour shall obey you: Welcome, worthy lord, Spain’s choice embassador, Brave, stout Andrea; for so I guess thee.

_Enter_ ANDREA.

AND. Portugal’s heir, I thank thee, Thou seems no less than what thou art, a prince And an heroic spirit: Portugal’s king, I kiss my hand, and tender on thy throne My master’s love, peace and affection.

KING. And we receive them and thee, worthy Andrea; Thy master’s high-prized love unto our heart, Is welcome to his friend, thou to our court.

AND. Thanks, Portugal. My lords, I had in charge, At my depart from Spain, this embassage, To put your breast in mind of tribute due Unto our master’s kingdom, these three years Detained and kept back; and I am sent to know Whether neglect or will detains it so.

KING. Thus much return unto thy king, Andrea; We have with best advice thought of our state, And find it much dishonoured by base homage: I not deny, but tribute hath been due To Spain by our forefathers’ base captivity, Yet cannot rase out their successors’ merit. ’Tis said, we shall not answer at next birth Our fathers’ faults in heaven; why then on earth? Which proves and shows, that which they lost By base captivity, We may redeem with honoured valiancy. We borrow nought: our kingdom is our own: He’s a base king that pays rent for his throne.

AND. Is this thy answer, Portugal?

BAL. Ay, Spain; A royal answer too, which I’ll maintain.

OMNES. And all the peers of Portugal the like.

AND. Then thus all Spain, which but three minutes ago Was thy full friend, is now returned thy foe.

BAL. An excellent foe; we shall have scuffling good.

AND. Thou shalt pay tribute, Portugal, with blood.

BAL. Tribute for tribute, then, and foes for foes.

AND. I bid you sudden wars.

BAL. I, sudden blows, and that’s as good as wars. Don, I’ll not bate An inch of courage nor a hair of fate: Pay tribute I with strokes.

AND. Aye, with strokes you shall; Alas, that Spain should correct Portugal!

BAL. Correct! O, in that one word such torments do I feel, That I could lash thy ribs with valiant steel.

AND. Prince Balthezar, shall’s meet?

BAL. Meet, Don Andrea? yes, in the battle’s bowels; Here is my gage, a never-failing pawn; ’Twill keep his day, his hour, nay minute, ’twill.

AND. Then thine and this, possess one quality.

BAL. O, let them kiss! Did I not understand thee noble, valiant, And worthy my sword’s society with thee, For all Spain’s wealth, I’d not grasp hands. Meet Don Andrea? I tell thee, noble spirit, I’d wade up to the knees in blood, I’d make A bridge of Spanish carcases, to single thee Out of the gasping army.

AND. Woot thou, prince? Why even for that I love [thee.]

BAL. Tut, love me, man, when we have drunk Hot blood together; wounds will tie An everlasting settled amity, And so shall thine.

AND. And thine.

BAL. What! give no place?

AND. To whom?

BAL. To me.

AND. To thee? Why should my face, that’s placed above my mind, Fall under it?

BAL. I’ll make thee yield.

AND. Aye, when you get me down; But I stand even yet--jump crown to crown.

BAL. Dar’st thou?

AND. I dare.

BAL. I am all vex’d.

AND. I care not.

BAL. I shall forget the law.

AND. Do, do.

BAL. Shall I?

AND. Spare not.

BAL. But thou wilt yield first.

AND. No.

BAL. O, I hug thee for’t! The valiant’st spirit e’er trod the Spanish court: Here let the rising of our hot blood set.

ALEX. My liege, two nobler spirits never met.

BAL. Until we meet in purple, when our swords Shall----

AND. Agreed, right valiant prince:-- Then, Portugal, this is thy resolute answer?

KING. So, return, it’s so: we have bethought us, What tribute is; how poor that monarch shows, Who for his throne a yearly pension owes: And what our predecessors lost to Spain, We have fresh spirits that can renew’t again.

AND. Then I unclasp the purple leaves of war: Many a new wound must gasp through an old scar. So, Portugal, I leave thee.

KING. Ourself in person Will see thee safe aboard: come, son, come, lords, Instead of tribute we must pay our swords.

BAL. Remember, Don Andrea, that we meet.

AND. Up hither sailing in a crimson fleet. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ LORENZO _and_ ALCARIO.

LOR. Do you affect my sister?

ALCA. Affect! above affection, for Her breast is my life’s treasure; O, entire Is the condition of my hot desire!

LOR. Then this must be your plot. You know Andrea’s gone embassador, On whom my sister Bell’-Imperia Casts her affection? You are in stature like him, speech alike, And had you but his vestment on your back, There’s no one living but would swear ’twere he: Therefore sly policy must be your guide. I have a suit just of Andrea’s colours, Proportioned in all parts:--nay, ’twas his own-- This suit within my closet shall you wear, And so disguis’d woo, sue, and then at last--

ALCA. What?

LOR. Obtain thy love.

ALCA. This falls out rare; in this disguise I may both Wed, bed, and board her.

LOR. You may, you may: Besides, within these few days he’ll return.

ALCA. Till this be acted, I in passion burn.

LOR. All falls out for the purpose: all hits jump;[298] The date of his embassage, nigh expired, Gives strength unto our plot.

ALCA. True, true; all to the purpose.

LOR. Moreover, I will buzz Andrea’s landing Which, once but crept into the vulgar mouths, Is hurried here and there, and sworn for troth: Think, ’tis your love makes me create this guise, And willing hope to see your virtue rise.

ALCA. Lorenzo’s bounty I do more enfold Than the great’st mine of India’s brightest gold.