Thomas Kyd

“ BEL. Hath not my father then enquir'd for me?
LOR. Sister, he hath; and this excus'd I thee.
He whispereth in her ear.
But, Bel-imperia, see the gentle prince;
Look on thy love; behold young Balthazar,
Whose passions by thy presence are increas'd,
And in whose melancholy thou may'st see
Thy hate, his love, thy flight, his following thee.
BEL. Brother, you are become an orator—
I know not, ay, by what experience—
Too politic for me, past all compare,
Since I last saw you. But content yourself;
The prince is meditating higher things. ”

“ Enter LORENZO and BALTHAZAR.
BAL. How now, my lord? what makes you rise so soon?
LOR. Fear of preventing our mishaps too late.
BAL. What mischief is it that we not mistrust?
LOR. Our greatest ills we least mistrust, my lord,
And unexpected harms do hurt us most.
BAL. Why, tell me, Don Lorenz,—tell me, man,
If aught concerns our honour and your own!
LOR. Nor you nor me, my lord, but both in one;
But I suspect—and the presumptions great—
That by those base confed'rates in our fault
Touching the death of Don Horatio
We are all betray'd to old Hieronimo.
BAL. Betray'd, Lorenzo? tush! ”

“ And by those wounds he forced me to yield,
And by my yielding I became his slave;
Now, in his mouth he carries pleasing words,
Which pleasing words do harbour sweet conceits,
Which sweet conceits are lim'd with sly deceits,
Which sly deceits smooth Bel-imperia's ears,
And through her ears dive down into her heart,
And in her heart set him, where I should stand.
Thus hath he ta'en my body by his force,
And now by sleight would captivate my soul;
But in his fall I'll tempt the Destinies,
And either lose my life or win my love.
LOR. Let's go, my lord; our staying stays revenge. ”

“ 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? ”

“ In leesing my Horatio, my sweet boy!
Enter ISABELL.
ISA. My husband's absence makes my heart to throb.
Hieronimo!
HIERO. Here, Isabella. Help me to lament;
For sighs are stopp'd, and all my tears are spent.
ISA. What world of grief—my son Horatio!
O where's the author of this endless woe?
HIERO. To know the author were some ease of grief,
For in revenge my heart would find relief.
ISA. Then is he gone? and is my son gone too?
O, gush out, tears! fountains and floods of tears!
Blow, sighs, and raise an everlasting storm;
For outrage fits our cursed wretchedness. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Why sit we not? for pleasure asketh ease.
HOR. The more thou sitt'st within these leafy bowers,
The more will Flora deck it with her flowers.
BEL. Aye; but, if Flora spy Horatio here,
Her jealous eye will think I sit too near.
HOR. Hark, madame, how the birds record by night,
For joy that Bel-imperia sits in sight!
BEL. No; Cupid counterfeits the nightingale,
To frame sweet music to Horatio's tale.
HOR. If Cupid sing, then Venus is not far,—
Aye, thou art Venus, or some fairer star!
BEL. If I be Venus, thou must needs be Mars;
And where Mars reigneth, there must needs be wars. ”

“ 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 ”

“ KING. Brother of Castille, to the prince's love
What says your daughter Bel-imperia?
CIP. Although she coy it, as becomes her kind,
And yet dissemble that she loves the prince,
I doubt not, aye, but she will stoop in time;
And, were she froward,—which she will not be,—
Yet herein shall she follow my advice,
Which is to love him or forgo my love.
KING. Then, lord ambassador of Portingal,
Advise thy king to make this marriage up
For strengthening of our late-confirmed league;
I know no better means to make us friends.
Her dowry shall be large and liberal ”

“ Let loose poor Titius from the vulture's gripe,
And let Don Ciprian supply his room;
Place Don Lorenzo on Ixion's wheel,
And let the lovers' endless pains surcease,
Juno forget old wrath and grant him ease;
Hang Balthazar about Chimera's neck,
And let him there bewail his bloody love,
Repining at our joys that are above;
Let Serberine go roll the fatal stone
And take from Sisyphus his endless moan;
False Pedringano, for his treachery,
Let him be dragg'd through boiling Acheron,
And there live dying still in endless flames,
Blaspheming gods and all their holy names. ”

“ There to repair the joys that it hath lost,
And, sitting safe, to sing in Cupid's choir
That sweetest bliss is crown of love's desire.
BALTHAZAR, above.
BAL. O sleep, mine eyes; see not my love profan'd!
Be deaf, my ears; hear not my discontent!
Die, heart; another joys what thou deserv'st!
LOR. Watch still, mine eyes, to see this love disjoin'd!
Hear still, mine ears, to hear them both lament!
Live, heart, to joy at fond Horatio's fall!
BEL. Why stands Horatio speechless all this while?
HOR. The less I speak, the more I meditate. ”

“ 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! ”

“ As dear to me was Horatio
As yours, or yours, my lord, to you.
My guiltless son was by Lorenzo slain;
And by Lorenzo and that Balthazar
Am I at last revenged thoroughly,—
Upon whose souls may Heav'n be yet aveng'd
With greater far than these afflictions!
CAS. But who were thy confederates in this?
VICE. That was thy daughter Bel-imperia;
For by her hand my Balthazar was slain,—
I saw her stab him.
KING. Why speak'st thou not?
HIERO. What lesser liberty can kings afford
Than harmless silence? Then afford it me! ”

“ Enter LORENZO and BALTHAZAR.
LOR. Sister, what means this melancholy walk?
BEL. That for a-while I wish no company.
LOR. But here the prince is come to visit you.
BEL. That argues that he lives in liberty.
BAL. No madam, but in pleasing servitude.
BEL. Your prison then, belike, is your conceit.
BAL. Aye, by conceit my freedom is enthrall'd.
BEL. Then with conceit enlarge yourself again.
BAL. What if conceit have laid my heart to gage?
BEL. Pay that you borrow'd, and recover it.
BAL. I die if it return from whence it lies.
BEL. A heartless man, and live? A miracle! ”

“ Enter HORATIO and BEL-IMPERIA.
HOR. Now, madame, since by favour of your love
Our hidden smoke is turn'd to open flame,
And that with looks and words we feed our thought,—
Two chief contents where more cannot be had,—
Thus in the midst of love's fair blandishments
Why show you sign of inward languishments?
PEDRINGANO showeth all to the PRINCE and
LORENZO, placing them in secret. ”

“ Made mountains marsh with spring-tides of my tears,
And broken through the brazen gates of hell;
Yet still tormented is my tortur'd soul
With broken sighs and restless passions,
That, winged, mount, and hovering in the air,
Beat at the windows of the brightest heav'ns,
Soliciting for justice and revenge.
But they are plac'd in those empyreal heights,
Where, countermur'd with walls of diamond,
I find the place impregnable, and they
Resist my woes and give my words no way.
Enter HANGMAN with a letter.
HANG. O Lord, sir! God bless you, sir! ”

“ I look'd that Balthazar should have been slain;
But 'tis my friend Horatio that is slain,
And they abuse fair Bel-imperia,
On whom I doted more then all the world,
Because she lov'd me more then all the world.
REVENGE. Thou talk'st of harvest, when the corn is green;
The end is crown of every work well done;
The sickle comes not till the corn be ripe. ”

“ I'll kiss thee now, for words with tears are stay'd.
ISA. And I'll close up the glasses of his sight;
For once these eyes were only my delight.
HIERO. See'st thou this handkerchief besmear'd with blood?
It shall not from me till I take revenge;
See'st thou those wounds that yet are bleeding fresh?
I'll not entomb them till I have reveng'd:
Then will I joy amidst my discontent,
Till then, my sorrow never shall be spent.
ISA. The heav'ns are just, murder cannot be hid;
Time is the author of both truth and right,
And time will bring this treachery to light. ”

“ PED. I will, my lord.
LOR. Then thou shalt find that I am liberal.
Thou know'st that I can more advance thy state
Than she: be therefore wise and fail me not.
Go and attend her as thy custom is,
Least absence make her think thou dost amiss.
Exit PEDRINGANO.
Why, so, Tam armis quam ingenio:
Where words prevail not, violence prevails.
But gold doth more than either of them both.
How likes Prince Balthazar this stratagem?
BAL. Both well and ill; it makes me glad and sad:
Glad, that I know the hind'rer of my love;
Sad, that I fear she hates me whom I love ”

“ 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? ”

“ Alas! it is Horatio, my sweet son!
O, no; but he that whilome was my son!
O, was it thou that call'dst me from my bed?
O, speak, if any spark of life remain!
I am thy father. Who hath slain my son?
What savage monster, not of human kind,
Hath here been glutted with thy harmless blood,
And left thy bloody corpse dishonour'd here,
For me amidst these dark and dreadful shades
To drown thee with an ocean of my tears?
O heav'ns, why made you night, to cover sin? ”

“ MAID. Madame, these humors do torment my soul.
ISA. My soul? poor soul, thou talk'st of things
Thou know'st not what! My soul hath silver wings,
That mounts me up unto the highest heav'ns—
To heav'n? Aye, there sits my Horatio,
Back'd with troop of fiery cherubins
Dancing about his newly healed wounds,
Singing sweet hymns and chanting heav'nly notes,
Rare harmony to greet his innocence,
That died, aye, died a mirror in our days!
But say, where shall I find the men, the murderers,
That slew Horatio? whether shall I run
To find them out, that murdered my son? ”

“ Their prisoner Balthazar, thy viceroy's son:
We pleasure more in kindness than in wars.
AMBASS. Sad is our king, and Portingal laments,
Supposing that Don Balthazar is slain.
BAL. [aside] So am I, slain by beauty's tyranny!—
You see, my lord, how Balthazar is slain:
I frolic with the Duke of Castille's son,
Wrapp'd every hour in pleasures of the court,
And grac'd with favours of his Majesty.
KING. Put off your greetings till our feast be done;
Now come and sit with us, and taste our cheer.
Sit to the banquet.
Sit down, young prince, you are our second guest ”