Part 5

BAZULTO. Aye, sir.

HIERO. No, sir, it was my murder'd son! Oh, my son, my son! oh, my son Horatio! But mine or thine, Bazulto, be content; Here, take my handkerchief and wipe thine eyes, Whiles wretched I in thy mishaps may see The lively portrait of my dying self.

He draweth out a bloody napkin.

O, no; not this! Horatio, this was thine! And when I dy'd it in thy dearest blood, This was a token twixt thy soul and me That of thy death revenged I should be. But here: take this, and this! what? my purse? Aye, this and that and all of them are thine; For all as one are our extremities.

I CIT. Oh, see the kindness of Hieronimo!

II CIT. This gentleness shows him a gentleman.

HIERO. See, see, oh, see thy shame, Hieronimo! See here a loving father to his son: Behold the sorrows and the sad laments That he deliv'reth for his son's decease. If love's effect so strives in lesser things, If love enforce such moods in meaner wits, If love express such power in poor estates, Hieronimo, as when a raging sea, Toss'd with the wind and tide, o'er-turneth then The upper-billows course of waves to keep, Whilst lesser waters labour in the deep, Then sham'st thou not, Hieronimo, to neglect The swift revenge of thy Horatio? Though on this earth justice will not be found, I'll down to hell and in this passion Knock at the dismal gates of Pluto's court, Getting by force, as once Alcides did, A troupe of furies and tormenting hags, To torture Don Lorenzo and the rest. Yet, lest the triple-headed porter should Deny my passage to the slimy strand, The Thracian poet thou shalt counterfeit; Come on, old father, be my Orpheus; And, if thou canst no notes upon the harp, Then sound the burden of thy sore heart's grief Till we do gain that Proserpine may grant Revenge on them that murdered my son. Then will I rent and tear them thus and thus, Shiv'ring their limbs in pieces with my teeth!

Tears the papers.

I CIT. Oh, sir, my declaration!

Exit HIERONIMO and they after.

II CIT. Save my bond!

Enter HIERONIMO.

II CIT. Save my bond!

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

HIERO. That can not be, I gave it never a wound; Show me one drop of blood 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 DON BAZULTO.

BAZULTO remains till HIERONIMO enters again, who, staring him in the face, speaks:

And art thou come, Horatio, from the depth, To ask for justice in this upper earth? To tell thy father thou art unreveng'd? To wring more tears from Isabella's eyes, Whose lights are dimm'd with over-long laments? Go back, my son, complain to Eacus; For here's no justice. Gentle boy, begone; For justice is exiled from the earth. Hieronimo will bear thee company. Thy mother cries on righteous Radamant For just revenge against the murderers.

BAZULTO. Alas, my lord, whence springs this troubled speech?

HIERO. But let me look on my Horatio: Sweet boy, how art thou chang'd in death's black shade! Had Proserpine no pity on thy youth, But suffer'd thy fair crimson-colour'd spring With wither'd winter to be blasted thus? Horatio, thou are older than thy father: Ah, ruthless father, that favour thus transforms.

BA. Ah, my good lord, I am not your young son.

HIE. What! not my son? thou then a Fury art Sent from the empty kingdom of black night To summon me to make appearance Before grim Minos and just Radamant, To plague Hieronimo, that is remiss And seeks not vengeance for Horatio's death.

BA. I am a grieved man, and not a ghost, That came for justice for my murder'd son.

HIE. Aye, now I know thee, now thou namest thy son; Thou art the lively image of my grief: Within thy face my sorrows I may see; The eyes are dimm'd with tears, thy cheeks are wan, Thy forehead troubled, and thy mutt'ring lips Murmur sad words abruptly broken off By force of windy sighs thy spirit breathes; And all this sorrow riseth for thy son, And self-same sorrow feel I for my son. Come in, old man; thou shalt to Isabell. Lean on my arm; 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,-- Talk not of cords!--but let us now be gone,-- For with a cord Horatio was slain.

Exeunt.

[ACT III. SCENE 14.]

[The Spanish court.]

Enter KING OF SPAIN, the DUKE, VICEROY, and LORENZO, BALTHAZAR, DON PEDRO, and BEL-IMPERIA.

KING. Go, brother, 'tis the Duke of Castile's cause; Salute the viceroy in our name.

CASTILE. I go.

VICE. Go forth, Don Pedro, for thy nephew's sake, And greet the Duke of Castile.

PEDRO. It shall be so.

KING. And now to meet these Portuguese; For, as we now are, so sometimes were these, Kings and commanders of the western Indies. Welcome, brave viceroy, to the court of Spain! And welcome, all his honourable train! 'Tis not unknown to us for why you come, Or have so kingly cross'd the seas. Sufficeth it, in this we note the troth And more than common love you lend to us. So is it that mine honourable niece, For it beseems us now that it be known, Already is betroth'd to Balthazar; And, by appointment and our condescent, Tomorrow are they to be married. To this intent we entertain thyself, Thy followers, their pleasure, and our peace. Speak, men of Portingal, shall it be so? If aye, say so; if not, say so flatly.

VICE. Renowned king, I come not, as thou think'st, With doubtful followers, unresolved men, But such as have upon thine articles Confirm'd thy motion and contented me. Know, sovereign, I come to solemnize The marriage of thy beloved niece, Fair Bel-imperia, with my Balthazar,-- With thee, my son, whom sith I live to see, Here, take my crown, I give it to her and thee, And let me live a solitary life, In ceaseless prayers, To think how strangely heav'n hath thee preserved.

KING. See, brother, see, how nature strives in him! Come, worthy viceroy, and accompany Thy friend, to strive with thine extremities: A place more private fits this princely mood.

VICE. Or here or where your Highness thinks it good.

Exeunt all but CASTILE and LORENZO.

CAS. Nay, stay, Lorenzo; let me talk with you. See'st thou this entertainment of these kings?

LOR. I do, my lord, and joy to see the same.

CAS. And know'st thou why this meeting is?

LOR. For her, my lord, whom Balthazar doth love, And to confirm their promis'd marriage.

CAS. She is thy sister.

LOR. Who? Bel-imperia? Aye, my gracious lord, and this is the day That I have long'd so happily to see.

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

LOR. Heav'ns will not let Lorenzo err so much.

CAS. Why then, Lorenzo, listen to my words: It is suspected, and reported too, That thou, Lorenzo, wrong'st Hieronimo, And in his suits toward his Majesty Still keep'st him back and seek'st to cross his suit.

LOR. That I, my lord?

CAS. I tell thee, son, myself have heard it said, When to my sorrow I have been asham'd To answer for thee, though thou art my son. Lorenzo, know'st thou not the common love And kindness that Hieronimo hath won By his deserts within the court of Spain? Or see'st thou not the king my brother's care In his behalf and to procure his health? Lorenzo, should'st thou thwart his passions, And he exclaim against thee to the king, What honour were't in this assembly, Or what a scandal were't among the kings, To hear Hieronimo exclaim on thee! Tell me,--and look thou tell me truly too,-- Whence grows the ground of this report in court?

LOR. My lord, it lies not in Lorenzo's power To stop the vulgar, liberal of their tongues: A small advantage makes a water-breach; And no man lives that long contenteth all.

CAS. Myself have seen thee busy to keep back Him and his supplications from the king.

LOR. Yourself, my lord, hath seen his passions, That ill beseem'd the presence of a king; And, for I pitied him in his distress, I held him thence with kind and courteous words, As free from malice to Hieronimo As to my soul, my lord.

CAS. Hieronimo, my son, mistakes thee then.

LOR. My gracious father, believe me, so he doth; But what's a silly man, distract in mind, To think upon the murder of his son? Alas, how easy is it for him to err! But, for his satisfaction and the world's, 'Twere good, my lord, that Hieronimo and I Were reconcil'd, if he misconstrue me.

CAS. Lorenzo, that hast said; it shall be so! Go, one of you, and call Hieronimo.

Enter BALTHAZAR and BEL-IMPERIA.

BAL. Come, Bel-imperia, Balthazar's content, My sorrow's ease, and sovereign of my bliss,-- Sith heav'n hath ordain'd thee to be mine, Disperse those clouds and melancholy looks, And clear them up with those thy sun-bright eyes, Wherein my hope and heav'n's fair beauty lies!

BEL. My looks, my lord, are fitting for my love, Which, new begun, can show no brighter yet.

BAL. New kindled flames should burn as morning sun.

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

BAL. True, my love; I will go salute him.

CAS. Welcome, Balthazar, Welcome, brave prince, the pledge of Castile's peace! And welcome Bel-imperia! How now, girl? Why com'st thou sadly to salute us thus? Content thyself, for I am satisfied. It is not now as when Andrea liv'd; We have forgotten and forgiven that, And thou art graced with a happier love. But, Balthazar, here comes Hieronimo; I'll have a word with him.

Enter HIERONIMO and a SERVANT.

HIERO. And where's the duke?

SER. Yonder.

HIERO. Even so. [aside] What new device have they devised, trow? Pocas palabras! Mild as the lamb! Is't I will be reveng'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 I'll be gone; I thank you for't!

CAS. Nay, stay, Hieronimo; go call him, son.

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

HIERO. With me, sir? Why, my lord, I thought you had done.

LOR. [aside] No; would he had!

CAS. Hieronimo, I hear You find yourself aggrieved at my son, Because you have not access unto the king, And say 'tis he that intercepts your suits.

HIERO. Why, is not this a miserable thing, my lord?

CAS. Hieronimo, I hope you have no cause, And would be loath that one of your deserts Should once have reason to suspect my son, Considering how I think of you myself.

HIERO. Your son Lorenzo? whom, my noble lord? The hope of Spain? mine honourable friend? Grant me the combat of them, if they dare!

Draws out his sword.

I'll meet them face-to-face to tell me so! These be the scandalous reports of such As love not me, and hate my lord too much. Should I suspect Lorenzo would prevent Or cross my suit, that lov'd my son so well? My lord, I am asham'd it should be said.

LOR. Hieronimo, I never gave you cause.

HIERO. 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 Ciprian's ancient seat; And when thou wilt, use me, my son, and it. But here before Prince Balthazar and me Embrace each other, and be perfect friends.

HIERO. Aye, marry, my lord, and shall! Friends, quoth he? See, I'll be friends with you all! Especially with you, my lovely lord; For divers causes it is fit for us That we be friends. The world is suspicious, And men may think what we imagine not.

BAL. Why this is freely done, Hieronimo.

LOR. And I hope old grudges are forgot.

HIERO. What else? it were a shame it should not be so!

CAS. Come on, Hieronimo, at my request; Let us entreat your company today!

Exeunt.

[CHORUS.]

Enter GHOST and REVENGE.

GHOST. Awake Erictho! Cerberus, awake! Solicit Pluto, gentle Proserpine! To combat, Acheron and Erebus in hell! For ne'er by Styx and Phlegeton there came, Nor ferried Charon to the fiery lakes, Such fearful sights, as poor Andrea sees! Revenge awake!

REVENGE. Awake? For why?

GHOST. Awake, Revenge! for thou art ill advis'd To sleep away what thou art warn'd to watch!

REVENGE. Content thyself, and do not trouble me.

GHOST. Awake, Revenge, if love, as love hath had, Have yet the power of prevalence in hell! Hieronimo with Lorenzo is join'd in league, And intercepts our passage to revenge. Awake, Revenge, or we are woe-begone!

REVENGE. Thus worldings ground what they have dream'd upon! Content thyself, Andrea; though I sleep, Yet is my mood soliciting their souls. Sufficeth thee that poor Hieronimo Cannot forget his son Horatio. Nor dies Revenge although he sleep awhile; For in unquiet, quietness is feign'd, And slumb'ring is a common worldly wile. Behold, Andrea, for an instance how Revenge hath slept; and then imagine thou What 'tis to be subject to destiny.

Enter a Dumb-show.

GHOST. Awake, Revenge! reveal this mystery!

REVENGE. The two first do the nuptial torches bear, As brightly burning as the midday's sun; But after them doth Hymen hie as fast, Clothed in sable and a saffron robe, And blows them out and quencheth them with blood, As discontent that things continue so.

GHOST. Sufficeth me; thy meanings understood, And thanks to thee and those infernal powers That will not tolerate a lover's woe. Rest thee; for I will sit to see the rest.

REVENGE. 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 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 passions, 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 Assures thee to be causeless slaughtered? Hieronimo! for shame, Hieronimo, Be not a history to after times Of such ingratitude 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 hell 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, assure 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 ambassador, To grace the King so much as with a show; Now were your study so well furnished As, for the passing of the first night's sport, To entertain my father with the like, Or any such like pleasing motion, Assure 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 passing 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. Assure you it will prove most passing strange And wondrous plausible to that assembly.

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 passions 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.

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? mass, 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, Assure 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 compassion, I will revenge myself upon this place, Where thus they murder'd my beloved son.