The Spanish Tragedie Containing the lamentable end of Don Horatio, and Bel-imperia : with the pittifull death of olde Hieronimo |
| 1. | ACTVS PRIMVS. |
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 | The Spanish Tragedie |  |
ACTVS PRIMVS.
Enter the Ghoast of Andrea, and with him Reuenge.Ghoast.
When this eternall substance of my soule,
Did liue imprisond in my wanton flesh:
Ech in their function seruing others need,
I was a Courtier in the Spanish Court.
My name was Don Andrea, my discent
Though not ignoble, yet inferiour far
To gratious fortunes of my tender youth:
For there in prime and pride of all my yeeres,
By duteous seruice and deseruing loue,
In secret I possest a worthy dame,
Which hight sweet Bel-imperia by name.
But in the haruest of my sommer ioyes,
Deaths winter nipt the blossomes of my blisse,
Forcing diuorce betwixt my loue and me.
For in the late conflict with Portingale,
My valour drew me into dangers mouth,
Till life to death made passage through my wounds.
When I was slaine, my soule descended straight,
To passe the flowing streame of Acheron:
But churlish Charon only boatman there,
Said that my rites of buriall not performde,
I might not sit amongst his passengers.
Ere Sol had slept three nights in Thetis lap,
And slakte his smoaking Charriot in her floud:
By Don Horatio our knight Marshals sonne,
My funerals and obsequies were done.
To passe me ouer to the slimie strond,
That leades to fell Auernus ougly waues:
There pleasing Cerberus with honied speech,
I past the perils of the formost porch.
Not farre from hence amidst ten thousand soules,
Sate Minos, Eacus, and Rhadamant,
To whome no sooner gan I make approch,
To craue a pasport for my wandring Ghost:
But Minos ingrauen leaues of Lotterie,
Drew forth the manner of my life and death.
This knight (quoth he) both liu'd and died in loue:
And for his loue tried fortune of the warres,
And by warres fortune lost both loue and life.
Why then said Eacus, conuay him hence,
To walke with louers in our fields of loue:
And spend the course of euerlasting time,
Vnder greene mirtle trees and Cipresse shades.
No, no, said Rhadamant, it were not well,
With louing soules to place a Martialist,
He died in warre, and must to martiall fields:
Where wounded Hector liues in lasting paine,
And Achilles mermedons do scoure the plaine.
Then Minos mildest censor of the three,
Made this deuice to end the difference.
Send him (quoth he) to our infernall King:
To dome him as best seemes his Maiestie:
To this effect my pasport straight was drawne.
In keeping on my way to Plutos Court,
Through dreadfull shades of euer glooming night:
I saw more sights then thousand tongues can tell,
Or pennes can write, or mortall harts can think.
Three waies there were, that on the right hand side,
Was ready way vnto the foresaid fields,
Where louers liue, and bloudie Martialists,
But either sort containd within his bounds.
The left hand path declining fearfully,
Where bloudie furies shakes their whips of steele,
And poore Ixion turnes an endles wheele.
Where Vsurers are choakt with melting golde,
And wantons are imbraste with ougly snakes:
And murderers grone with neuer killing wounds,
And periurde wights scalded in boyling lead,
And all soule sinnes with torments ouerwhelmd,
Twixt these two waies, I trod the middle path,
Which brought me to the faire Elizian greene.
In midst where of there standes a stately Towre,
The walles of brasse, the gates of Adamant.
Heere finding Pluto with his Proserpine,
I shewed my pasport humbled on my knee.
Whereat faire Proserpine began to smile,
And begd that onely she might giue my doome.
Pluto was pleasd and sealde it with a kisse.
Forthwith (Reuenge) she rounded thee in th'eare,
And bad thee lead me through the gates of Hor:
Where dreames haue passage in the silent night.
No sooner had she spoke but we were heere,
I wot not how, in twinkling of an eye.
Reuenge.
Then know Andrea that thou art ariu'd,
Where thou shalt see the author of thy death:
Don Balthazar the Prince of Portingale.
Depriu'd of life by Bel-imperia:
Heere sit we downe to see the misterie,
And serue for Chorus in this tragedie.
Enter Spanish King, Generall, Castile, Hieronimo.
King.
Now say L. Generall, how fares our Campe?
Gen.
All wel my soueraigne Liege, except some few,
That are deceast by fortune of the warre.
King.
But what portends thy cheerefull countenance,
And posting to our presence thus in hast?
Speak man, hath fortune giuen vs victorie?
Victorie my Liege, and that with little losse.
King.
Our Portingals will pay vs tribute then.
Gen.
Tribute and wonted homage there withall.
King.
Then blest be heauen, and guider of the heauens,
From whose faire influence such iustice flowes.
Cast.
O multum dilecte Deo, tibi militat æt her,
Et coniuratæ curilato poplito gentes
Succumbunt: recti soror est victoria iuris.
King.
Thanks to my louing brother of Castile.
But Generall, vnfolde in breefe discourse,
Your forme of battell and your warres successe.
That adding all the pleasure of thy newes,
Vnto the height of former happines.
With deeper wage and greater dignitie,
We may reward thy blisfull chiualrie.
Gen.
Where Spaine and Portingale do ioyntly knit
Their frontiers, leaning on each others bound:
There met our armies in their proud aray,
Both furnisht well, both full of hope and feare:
Both menacing alike with daring showes,
Both vaunting sundry colours of deuice,
Both cheerly sounding trumpets, drums and fifes.
Both raising dreadfull clamors to the skie,
That valleis, hils, and riuers made rebound,
And heauen it selfe was frighted with the sound.
Our battels both were pitcht in squadron forme,
Each corner strongly fenst with wings of shot,
But ere we ioynd and came to push of Pike,
I brought a squadron of our readiest shot,
From out our rearward to begin the fight,
They brought another wing to incounter vs:
Meane while our ordinance plaid on either side,
And Captaines stroue to haue their valours tride.
Don Pedro their chiefe horsemens Corlonell:
Did with his Cornet brauely make attempt,
To break the order of our battell rankes.
But Don Rogero worthy man of warre,
And stopt the mallice of his fell approch.
While they maintaine hot skirmish too and fro,
Both battailes ioyne and fall to handie blowes.
Their violent shot resembling th'oceans rage,
When roaring lowd and with a swelling tide,
It beats vpon the rampiers of huge rocks,
And gapes to swallow neighbour bounding lands.
Now while Bellona rageth heere and there,
Thick stormes of bullets ran like winters haile,
And shiuered Launces darke the troubled aire.
Bede pes & cuspide cuspis,
Annisonant annis vir petiturque viro.
On euery side drop Captaines to the ground,
And Souldiers some ill maimde, some slaine outright:
Heere falles a body scindred from his head,
There legs and armes lye bleeding on the grasse,
Mingled with weapons and vnboweld steeds:
That scattering ouer spread the purple plaine.
In all this turmoyle three long hovres and more,
The victory to neither part inclinde,
Till Don Andrea with his braue Launciers,
In their maine battell made so great a breach,
That halfe dismaid, the multitude retirde:
But Balthazar the Portingales young Prince,
Brought rescue and encouragde them to stay:
Heere-hence the fight was eagerly renewd,
And in that conflict was Andrea slaine.
Braue man at armes, but weake to Balthazar.
Yet while the Prince insulting ouer him,
Breathd out proud vaunts, sounding to our reproch,
Friendship and hardie valour ioynd in one,
Prickt forth Horatio our Knight Marshals sonne,
To challenge forth that Prince in single fight:
Not long betweene these twaine the fight indurde,
But straight the Prince was beaten from his horse,
And forcst to yeeld him prisoner to his foe:
And our Carbines pursued them to the death,
Till Phœbus wauing to the western deepe,
Our Trumpeters were chargde to sound retreat.
King.
Thanks good L. Generall for these good newes,
And for some argument of more to come,
Take this and weare it for thy soueraignes sake.
Giue him his chaine,
But tell me now, hast thou confirmd a peace?
Gen.
No peace my Liege, but peace conditionall,
That if with homage tribute be well paid,
The fury of your forces wilbe staide.
And to this peace their Viceroy hath subscribde.
Giue the K. a paper.
And made a solemne vow that during life,
His tribute shalbe truely paid to Spaine.
King.
These words, these deeds, become thy person wel.
But now Knight Marshall frolike with thy King,
For tis thy Sonne that winnes this battels prize.
Hiero.
Long may he liue to serue my soueraigne liege,
And soone decay vnlesse he serue my liege.
A tucket a farre off.
King.
Nor thou nor he shall dye without reward,
What meanes this warning of this trumpets sound?
Gen.
This tels me that your graces men of warre,
Such as warres fortune hath reseru'd from death,
Come marching on towards your royall seate,
To show themselues before your Maiestie,
For so I gaue in charge at my depart.
Whereby by demonstration shall appeare,
That all (except three hundred or few more)
Are safe returnd and by their foes inricht.
The Armie enters, Balthazar betweene Lorenzo and Horatio captiue.
King.
A gladsome sight, I long to see them heere.
They enter and passe by.
That by our Nephew was in triumph led?
Gen.
It was my Liege, the Prince of Portingale.
King.
But what was he that on the other side,
Held him by th'arme as partner of the prize?
Hiero.
That was my sonne my gratious soueraigne,
Of whome, though from his tender infancie,
My louing thoughts did neuer hope but well:
He neuer pleasd his fathers eyes till now,
Nor fild my hart with ouercloying ioyes.
King.
Goe let them march once more about these walles,
That staying them we may conferre and talke,
With our braue prisoner and his double guard.
Hieronimo, it greatly pleaseth vs,
That in our victorie thou haue a share,
By vertue of thy worthy sonnes exploit.
Enter againe.
Bring hether the young Prince of Portingale,
The rest martch on, but ere they be dismist,
We will bestow on euery souldier two duckets,
And on euery leader ten, that they may know
Our largesse welcomes them.
Exeunt all but Bal. Lor. Hor.
Welcome Don Balthazar, welcome Nephew,
And thou Horatio thou art welcome too:
Young Prince, although thy fathers hard misdeedes,
In keeping backe the tribute that he owes,
Deserue but euill measure at our hands:
Yet shalt thou know that Spaine is honorable.
Balt.
The trespasse that my Father made in peace,
Is now controlde by fortune of the warres:
And cards once dealt, it bootes not aske why so,
His men are slaine, a weakening to his Realme,
His colours ceaz'd, a blot vnto his name,
His Sonne distrest, a corsiue to his hart,
These punishments may cleare his late offence.
King.
I Balthazar, if he obserue this truce,
Meane while liue thou though not in libertie,
Yet free from bearing any seruile yoake.
For in our hearing thy deserts were great,
And in our sight thy selfe art gratious.
Balt.
And I shall studie to deserue this grace.
King.
But tell me, for their holding makes me doubt,
To which of these twaine art thou prisoner.
Lor.
To me my Liege.
Hor.
To me my Soueraigne.
Lor.
This hand first tooke his courser by the raines.
Hor.
But first my launce did put him from his horse.
Lor.
I ceaz'd his weapon and enioyde it first.
Hor.
But first I forc'd him lay his weapons downe,
King.
Let goe his arme vpon our priuiledge.
Let him goe.
Say worthy Prince, to whether didst thou yeeld?
Balt.
To him in curtesie, to this perforce:
He spake me faire, this other gaue me strokes:
He promisde life, this other threatned death:
He wan my loue, this other conquerd me:
And truth to say I yeeld my selfe to both.
Hiero.
But that I knaw your grace for iust and wise,
And might seeme partiall in this difference,
Inforct by nature and by law of armes,
My tongue should plead for young Horatios right.
He hunted well that was a Lyons death,
Not he that in a garment wore his skin:
So Hares may pull dead Lyons by the beard.
King.
Content thee Marshall thou shalt haue no wrong,
And for thy sake thy Sonne shall want no right.
Will both abide the censure of my doome?
Lor.
I craue no better then your grace awards.
Hor.
Nor I, although I sit beside my right.
King.
Then by my iudgement thus your strife shall end,
You both deserue and both shall haue reward.
Nephew, thou tookst his weapon and his horse,
Horatio thou didst force him first to yeeld,
His ransome therefore is thy valours fee:
Appoint the sum as you shall both agree.
But Nephew thou shalt haue the Prince in guard,
For thine estate best fitteth such a guest.
Horatios house were small for all his traine,
Yet in regarde thy substance passeth his,
And that iust guerdon may befall desert,
To him we yeeld the armour of the Prince.
How likes Don Balthazar of this deuice?
Balt.
Right well my Liege, if this prouizo were,
That Don Horatio beare vs company,
Whome I admire and loue for chiualrie.
King.
Horatio leaue him not that loues thee so,
Now let vs hence to see our souldiers paide,
And feast our prisoner as our friendly guest.
Exeunt.
Enter Uiceroy, Alexandro, Uilluppo.
Vice.
Is our embassadour dispatcht for Spaine?
Alex.
Two daies (my Liege) are past since his depart.
Uice.
And tribute paiment gone along with him?
Alex.
I my good Lord.
Vice.
Then rest we heere a while in our vnrest.
And feed our sorrowes with some inward sighes,
For deepest cares break neuer into teares.
But wherefore sit I in a Regall throne,
This better fits a wretches endles moane.
Yet this is higher then my fortuues reach,
And therefore better then my state deserues.
Falles to the ground.
I, I, this earth, Image of mellancholly,
Seeks him whome fates adiudge to miserie:
Heere let me lye, now am I at the lowest.
Qvi iacet in terranon habet vnde cadat,
In me consumpsit vires fortuna nocendo,
Nil superest vt iam possit obesse magis.
Heere take it now, let Fortune doe her worst,
She will not rob me of this sable weed,
O no, she enuies none but pleasant things,
Such is the folly of dispightfull chance:
Fortune is blinde and sees not my deserts,
So is she deafe and heares not my laments:
And could she heare, yet is she wilfull mad,
And therefore will not pittie my distresse.
Suppose that she could pittie me, what then?
What helpe can be expected at her hands?
Whose foot standing on a rowling stone,
And minde more mutable then fickle windes.
Why waile I then wheres hope of no redresse?
O yes, complaining makes my greefe seeme lesse.
My late ambition hath distaind my faith,
My breach of faith occasiond bloudie warres,
Those bloudie warres haue spent my treasure,
And with my treasure my peoples blood,
And with their blood, my ioy and best beloued,
My best beloued, my sweet and onely Sonne.
O wherefore went I not to warre my selfe?
The cause was mine I might haue died for both:
My yeeres were mellow, his but young and greene,
My death were naturall, but his was forced.
Alex.
No doubt my Liege but still the Prince suruiues.
Uice.
Suruiues, I where?
Alex.
In Spaine, a prisoner by mischance of warre.
Vice.
Then they haue slaine him for his fathers fault.
Alex.
That were a breach to common law of armes.
Vice.
They recke no lawes that meditate reuenge.
Alex.
His ransomes worth will stay from foule reuenge.
Uice.
No, if he liued the newes would soone be heere.
Alex.
Nay euill newes flie faster still than good.
Vice.
Tell me no more of newes, for he is dead.
Villup.
My soueraign pardon the Author of ill newes,
And Ile bewray the fortune of thy Sonne.
Speake on, Ile guerdon thee what ere it be,
Mine eare is ready to receiue ill newes,
My hart growne hard gainst mischiefes battery,
Stand vp I say and tell thy tale at large.
Villup.
Then heare that truth which these mine eies haue seene.
When both the armies were in battell ioynd,
Don Balthazar amidst the thickest troupes,
To winne renowne, did wondrous feats of armes:
Amongst the rest I saw him hand to hand
In single fight with their Lord Generall.
Till Alexandro that heere counterfeits,
Vnder the colour of a duteous freend,
Discharged his Pistoll at the Princes back,
As though he would haue slaine their Generall.
But therwithall Don Balthazar fell downe:
And when he fell then we began to flie,
But had he liued the day had sure bene ours.
Alex.
O wicked forgerie: O traiterous miscreant.
Uice.
Holde thou thy peace, but now Villuppo say,
Where then became the carkasse of my Sonne?
Villup.
I saw them drag it to the Spanish tents.
Uice.
I, I, my nightly dreames haue tolde me this:
Thou false, vnkinde, vnthankfull traiterous beast,
Wherein had Balthazar offended thee,
That thou shouldst thus betray him to our foes?
Wast Spanish golde that bleared so thine eyes,
That thou couldst see no part of our deserts?
Perchance because thou art Terseraes Lord,
Thou hadst some hope to weare this Diadome,
If first my Sonne and then my selfe were slaine:
But thy ambitious thought shall breake thy neck.
I, this was it that made thee spill his bloud,
Take the crowne and put it on againe.
But Ile now weare it till thy bloud be spilt.
Alex.
Vouchsafe (dread Soueraigne to heare me speak.
Uice.
Away with him, his sight is second hell,
Keepe him till we determine of his death.
Villuppo follow vs for thy reward.
Exit Uice.
Uillup.
Thus haue I with an enuious forged tale,
Deceiued the King, betraid mine enemy,
And hope for guerdon of my villany.
Exit.
Enter Horatio and Bel-imperia.
Bel.
Signior Horatio, this is the place and houre,
Wherein I must intreat thee to relate,
The circumstance of Don Andreas death:
Who liuing was my garlands sweetest flower,
And in his death hath buried my delights.
Hor.
For loue of him and seruice to your selfe,
I nill refuse this heauy dolefull charge.
Yet teares and sighes, I feare will hinder me.
When both our Armies were enioynd in fight.
Your worthie chiualier amidst the thikst,
For glorious cause still aiming at the fairest,
Was at the last by yong Don Balthazar,
Encountred hand to hand: their fight was long,
Their harts were great, their clamours menacing,
Their strength alike, their strokes both dangerous.
But wrathfull Nemesis that wicked power,
Enuying at Andreas praise and worth,
Cut short his life to end his praise and woorth.
She, she her selfe disguisde in armours maske,
(As Pallas was before proud Pergamus:)
Brought in a fresh supply of Halberdiers,
Which pauncht his horse and dingd him to the ground,
Then yong Don Balthazar with ruthles rage,
Taking aduantage of his foes distresse,
Did finish what his Halberdiers begun,
And left not till Andreas life was done.
Then though too late incenst with iust remorce,
I with my band set foorth against the Prince,
And brought him prisoner from his Halberdiers.
Bel.
Would thou hadst slaine him that so slew my loue.
Hor.
No, that was it for which I cheefely stroue,
Nor stept I back till I recouerd him:
I tooke him vp and wound him in mine armes.
And welding him vnto my priuate tent,
There laid him downe and dewd him with my teares,
And sighed and sorrowed as became a freend.
But neither freendly sorrow, sighes nor teares,
Could win pale death from his vsurped right.
Yet this I did, and lesse I could not doe:
I saw him honoured with due funerall,
This scarfe I pluckt from off his liueles arme,
And weare it in remembrance of my freend.
Bel.
I know the scarfe, would he had kept it still,
For had he liued he would haue kept it still,
And worne it for his Bel-imperias sake:
For twas my fauour at his last depart.
But now weare thou it both for him and me,
For after him thou hast deserued it best.
But for thy kindnes in his life and death,
Be sure while Bel-imperias life endures,
She will be Don Horatios thankfull freend.
Hor.
And (Madame) Don Horatio will not slacke,
Humbly to serue faire Bel-imperia.
But now if your good liking stand thereto,
Ile craue your pardon to goe seeke the Prince,
For so the Duke your father gaue me charge.
Exit.
Bel.
I, goe Horatio, leaue me heere alone,
For sollitude best fits my cheereles mood:
Yet what auailes to waile Andreas death,
From whence Horatio proues my second loue?
Had he not loued Andrea as he did,
He could not sit in Bel-imperias thoughts.
But how can loue finde harbour in my brest,
Till I reuenge the death of my beloued.
Yes, second loue shall further my reuenge.
The more to spight the Prince that wrought his end:
And where Don Balthazar that slew my loue,
Himselfe now pleades for fauour at my hands,
He shall in rigour of my iust disdaine,
Reape long repentance for his murderous deed:
For what wast els but murderous cowardise,
So many to oppresse one valiant knight,
Without respect of honour in the fight?
And heere he comes that murdred my delight.
Enter Lorenzo and Balthazar.
Lor.
Sister, what meanes this melanchollie walke?
Bel.
That for a while I wish no company.
Lor.
But heere the Prince is come to visite you,
Bel.
That argues that he liues in libertie.
Bal.
No Madame, but in pleasing seruitude.
Bel.
Your prison then belike is your conceit.
Bal.
I by conceit my freedome is enthralde,
Bel.
Then with conceite enlarge your selfe againe.
Bal.
What if conceite haue laid my hart to gage?
Bel.
Pay that you borrowed and recouer it.
Bal.
I die if it returne from whence it lyes.
Bel.
A hartles man and liue? A miracle.
Bal.
I Lady, loue can worke such miracles.
Lor.
Tush, tush my Lord, let goe these ambages,
And in plaine tearmes acquaint her with your loue.
Bel.
What bootes complaint, when thers no remedy?
Bal.
Yes, to your gratious selfe must I complaine,
In whose faire answere lyes my remedy,
On whose perfection all my thoughts attend,
On whose aspect mine eyes finde beauties bowre,
In whose translucent brest my hart is lodgde.
Bel.
Alas my Lord these are hut words of course,
And but deuise to driue me from this place.
She in going in, lets fall her Gloue, which Horatio comming out takes vp.
Hor.
Madame, your Gloue.
Thanks good Horatio, take it for thy paines.
Bal.
Signior Horatio stoopt in happie time.
Hor.
I reapt more grace then I deseru'd or hop'd.
Lor.
My Lord, be not dismaid for what is past,
You know that women oft are humerous:
These clouds will ouerblow with little winde.
Let me alone, Ile scatter them my selfe:
Meane while let vs deuise to spend the time,
In some delightfull sports and reuelling.
Hor.
The King my Lords is comming hither straight,
To feast the Porting all Embassadour,
Things were in readines before I came.
Bal.
Then heere it fits vs to attend the King,
To welcome hither our Embassadour,
And learne my Father and my Countries health.
Enter the banquet, Trumpets, the King and Embassadour.
King.
See Lord Embassador, how Spaine intreats
Their prisoner Balthazar, thy Viceroyes Sonne:
We pleasure more in kindenes then in warres.
Embass.
Sad is our King, and Portingale laments,
Supposing that Don Balthazar is slaine.
Bal.
So am I slaine by beauties tirannie,
You see my Lord how Balthazar is slaine.
I frolike with the Duke of Castiles Sonne,
Wrapt euery houre in pleasures of the Court,
And graste with fauours of his Maiestie.
King.
Put off your greetings till our feast be done,
Now come and sit with vs and taste our cheere.
Sit to the banquet.
Sit downe young Prince, you are our second guest:
Brother sit downe, and Nephew take your place,
Signior Horatio waite thou vpon our cup,
For well thou hast deserued to be honored.
Now Lordings fall too, Spaine is Portugall,
And Portugall is Spaine, we both are freends,
Tribute is paid, and we enioy our right.
He pcomised vs in honor of our guest,
To grace our banquet with some pompous iest.
Enter Hieronimo with a Drum, three Knights, each his Scutchin, then he fetches three Kings, they take their Crownes and them captiue.
Hieronimo, this maske contents mine eie,
Although I sound not well the misterie.
Hiero.
The first arm'd Knight that hung his Scutchin vp,
He takes the Scutchin and giues it to the King.
Was English Robert Earle of Glocester,
Who when king Stephen bore sway in Albion,
Arriued with fiue and twenty thousand men,
In Portingale, and by successe of warre,
Enforced the King then but a Sarasin,
To beare the yoake of the English Monarchie.
King.
My Lord of Portingale, by this you see,
That which may comfort both your King and you,
And make your late discomfort seeme the lesse.
But say Hieronimo, what was the next?
Hiero.
The second Knight that hung his Scutchin vp,
He doth as he did before.
Was Edmond Earle of Kent in Albion,
When English Richard wore the Diadem.
He came likewise and razed Lisbon walles,
And tooke the King of Portingale in fight:
For which, and other such like seruice done,
He after was created Duke of Yorke.
King.
This is another speciall argument,
That Portingale may daine to beare our yoake,
When it by little England hath beene yoakt:
But now Hieronimo what were the last?
Hiero.
The third and last not least in our account,
Dooing as before.
Was as the rest a valiant Englishman,
Braue Iohn of Gaunt the Duke of Lancaster.
He with a puissant armie came to Spaine,
And tooke our King of Castile prisoner.
Embass.
This is an argument for our Viceroy,
That Spaine may not insult for her successe,
Since English warriours likewise conquered Spaine,
And made them bow their knees to Albion.
King.
Hieronimo, I drinke to thee for this deuise.
Which hath pleasde both the Embassador and me:
Pledge me Hieronomo, if thou loue the King.
Takes the Cup of Horatio.
My Lord, I feare we sit but ouer-long.
Vnlesse our dainties were more delicate.
But welcome are you to the best we haue.
Now let vs in that you may be dispatcht,
I think our councell is already set.
Exeunt omnes.
Andrea.
Come we for this from depth of vnder ground,
To see him feast that gaue me my deaths wound?
These pleasant sights are sorrow to my soule,
Nothing but league, and loue and banqueting?
Reuenge.
Be still Andrea ere we goe from hence,
Ile turne their freendship into fell despight,
Their loue to mortall hate, their day to night,
Their hope into dispaire, their peace to warre,
Their ioyes to paine, their blisse to miserie.
| The Spanish Tragedie | |