Chapter 15

RENUCHIO _cometh out of the palace_.

RENUCHIO. O cruel fate! O miserable chance! O dire aspect of hateful destinies! O woe may not be told! Suffic'd it not That I should see, and with these eyes behold So foul, so bloody, and so base a deed: But more to aggravate the heavy cares Of my perplexed mind, must only I, Must I alone be made the messenger, That must deliver to her princely ears Such dismal news, as when I shall disclose, I know it cannot but abridge her days? As when the thunder and three-forked fire, Rent through the clouds by Jove's almighty power, Breaks up the bosom of our mother earth, And burns her heart, before the heat be felt. In this distress, whom should I most bewail, My woe, that must be made the messenger Of these unworthy and unwelcome news? Or shall I moan thy death, O noble Earl? Or shall I still lament the heavy hap, That yet, O Queen, attends thy funeral?

CHORUS 1. What moans be these? Renuchio, is this Salerne I see? Doth here King Tancred hold the awful crown? Is this the place where civil people be? Or do the savage Scythians here abound?

CHORUS 2. What mean these questions? whither tend these words? Resolve us maidens, and release our fears. Whatever news thou bring'st, discover them. Detain us not in this suspicious dread! "The thought whereof is greater than the woe."

RENUCHIO. O, whither may I cast my looks? to heaven? Black pitchy clouds from thence rain down revenge. The earth shall I behold, stain'd with the gore Of his heart-blood, that died most innocent? Which way soe'er I turn mine eyes, methinks His butcher'd corpse stands staring in my face.

CHORUS 3. We humbly pray thee to forbear these words, So full of terror to our maiden hearts: "The dread of things unknown breeds the suspect Of greater dread, until the worst be known." Tell therefore what hath chanc'd, and whereunto This bloody cup thou holdest in thy hand.

RENUCHIO. Since so is your request, that I shall do, Although my mind so sorrowful a thing Repines to tell, and though my voice eschews To say what I have seen; yet since your will So fixed stands to hear for what I rue, Your great desires I shall herein fulfil. Fast by Salerne city, amids the plain, There stands a hill whose bottom, huge and round. Thrown out in breadth, a large space doth contain: And gathering up in height, small from the ground, Still less and less it mounts: there sometime was A goodly tower uprear'd, that flower'd in fame While fate and fortune serv'd; but time doth pass, And with his sway suppresseth all the same: For now the walls be even'd with the plain, And all the rest so foully lies defac'd, As but the only shade doth there remain Of that, which there was built in time forepass'd: And yet that shows what worthy work tofore Hath there been rear'd. One parcel of that tower[75] Yet stands, which eating time could not devour: A strong turret, compact of stone and rock, Hugy without, but horrible within: To pass to which, by force of handy stroke, A crooked strait is made, that enters in, And leads into this ugly loathsome place. Within the which, carved into the ground, A deep dungeon[76] there runs of narrow space. Dreadful and dark, where never light is found: Into this hollow cave, by cruel hest Of King Tancred, were divers servants sent To work the horror of his furious breast, Erst nourish'd in his rage, and now stern bent To have the same perform'd. I woful man, Amongst the rest, was one to do the thing. That to our charge so straitly did belong, In sort as was commanded by the king. Within which dreadful prison when we came, The noble County Palurin, that there Lay chain'd in gyves,[77] fast fetter'd in his bolts, Out of the dark dungeon we did uprear, And hal'd him thence into a brighter place, That gave us light to work our tyranny. But when I once beheld his manly face, And saw his cheer, no more appall'd with fear Of present death, than he whom never dread Did once amate:[78] my heart abhorred then To give consent unto so foul a deed: That wretched death should reave so worthy a man. On false fortune I cried with loud complaint, That in such sort o'erwhelms nobility. But he, whom never grief ne fear could taint, With smiling cheer himself oft willeth me To leave to plain his case, or sorrow make For him; for he was far more glad apaid Death to embrace thus for his lady's sake, Than life or all the joys of life, he said. For loss of life, quoth he, grieves me no more Than loss of that which I esteemed least: My lady's grief, lest she should rue therefore, Is all the cause of grief within my breast. He pray'd therefore, that we would make report To her of those his last words he would say: That, though he never could in any sort Her gentleness requite, nor never lay Within his power to serve her as he would; Yet she possess'd his heart with hand and might, To do her all the honour that he could. This was to him, of all the joys that might Revive his heart, the chiefest joy of all, That to declare the faithful heart which he Did bear to her, fortune so well did fall, That in her love he should both live and die. After these words he stay'd, and spake no more, But joyfully beholding us each one, His words and cheer amazed us so sore, That still we stood; when forthwith thereupon: But, why slack you, quoth he, to do the thing For which you come? make speed, and stay no more: Perform your master's will. Now tell the king He hath his life, for which he long'd so sore: And with those words himself with his own hand Fast'ned the bands about his neck. The rest Wond'ring at his stout heart, astonied[79] stand To see him offer thus himself to death. What stony breast, or what hard heart of flint Would not relent to see this dreary sight? So goodly a man, whom death nor fortune's dint Could once disarm, murder'd with such despite; And in such sort bereft, amidst the flowers Of his fresh years, that ruthful was to seen: "For violent is death, when he devours Young men or virgins, while their years be green." Lo! now our servants seeing him take the bands, And on his neck himself to make them fast; Without delay set to their cruel hands, And sought to work their fierce intent with haste. They stretch the bloody bands; and when the breath Began to fail his breast, they slack'd again: Thrice did they pull, and thrice they loosed him, So did their hands repine against their hearts: And ofttimes loosed to his greater pain. "But date of death, that fixed is so fast, Beyond his course there may no wight extend;" For strangled is this noble Earl at last, Bereft of life, unworthy such an end.

CHORUS. O damned deed!

RENUCHIO. What, deem you this to be All the sad news that I have to unfold? Is here, think you, end of the cruelty That I have seen?

CHORUS. Could any heavier woe Be wrought to him, than to destroy him so?

RENUCHIO. What, think you this outrage did end so well? The horror of the fact, the greatest grief, The massacre, the terror is to tell.

CHORUS. Alack! what could be more? they threw percase The dead body to be devour'd and torn Of the wild beasts.

RENUCHIO. Would God it had been cast a savage prey To beasts and birds: but lo, that dreadful thing Which e'en the tiger would not work, but to Suffice his hunger, that hath the tyrant king Withouten ruth commanded us to do, Only to please his wrathful heart withal. Happy had been his chance, too happy, alas! If birds or beasts had eaten up his corpse, Yea, heart and all within this cup I bring, And am constrained now unto the face Of his dear lady to present the same.

CHORUS. What kind of cruelty is this you name? Declare forthwith, and whereunto doth tend This farther plaint.

RENUCHIO. After his breath was gone, Forced perforce thus from his panting breast, Straight they despoiled him; and not alone Contented with his death, on the dead corpse, Which ravenous beasts forbear to lacerate, Even upon this our villains fresh begun To show new cruelty; forthwith they pierce His naked belly, and unripp'd it so, That out the bowels gush'd. Who can rehearse Their tyranny, wherewith my heart yet bleeds? The warm entrails were torn out of his breast, Within their hands trembling, not fully dead; His veins smok'd, his bowels all-to reeked, Ruthless were rent, and thrown about the place: All clottered lay the blood in lumps of gore, Sprent[80] on his corpse, and on his paled face; His trembling heart, yet leaping, out they tore, And cruelly upon a rapier They fix'd the same, and in this hateful wise Unto the king this heart they do present: A sight long'd for to feed his ireful eyes. The king perceiving each thing to be wrought As he had will'd, rejoicing to behold Upon the bloody sword the pierced heart, He calls then for this massy cup of gold, Into the which the woful heart he cast; And reaching me the same: now go, quoth he, Unto my daughter, and with speedy haste Present her this, and say to her from me, Thy father hath here in this cup thee sent That thing to joy and comfort thee withal, Which thou lovedst best, even as thou wert content To comfort him with his chief joy of all.

CHORUS. O hateful fact! O passing cruelty! O murder wrought with too much hard despite! O heinous deed, which no posterity Will once believe!

RENUCHIO. Thus was Earl Palurin Strangled unto the death, yea, after death His heart and blood disbowell'd from his breast. But what availeth plaint? It is but breath Forewasted all in vain. Why do I rest Here in this place? Why go I not, and do The hateful message to my charge committed? O, were it not that I am forced thereto By a king's will, here would I stay my feet, Ne one whit farther wade in this intent! But I must yield me to my prince's hest; Yet doth this somewhat comfort mine unrest, I am resolv'd her grief not to behold, But get me gone, my message being told. Where is the princess' chamber?

CHORUS. Lo, where she comes.