Chapter I: WATCH. On to Hieronimo's! help me here

To bring the murder'd body with us too.

PED. Hieronimo? Carry me before whom you will;
What e'er he be, I'll answer him and you.
And do your worst, for I defy you all!

Exeunt.

[ACT III. SCENE 4.]

[The DUKE's castle]

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! it cannot be.

LOR. A guilty conscience urged with the thought
Of former evils, easily cannot err:
I am persuaded--and dissuade me not--
That all's revealed to Hieronimo.
And therefore know that I have cast it thus--

[Enter PAGE.]

But here's the page. How now? what news with thee?

PAGE. My lord, Serberine is slain.

BAL. Who? Serberine, my man?

PAGE. Your Highness' man, my lord.

LOR. Speak, page: who murder'd him?

PAGE. He that is apprehended for the fact.

LOR. Who?

PAGE. Pedringano.

BAL. Is Serberine slain, that lov'd his lord so well?
Injurious villain! murd'rer of his friend!

LOR. Hath Pedringano murder'd Serberine?
My lord, let me entreat you to take the pains
To exasperate and hasten his revenge
With your complaints unto my lord the king.
This their dissension breeds a greater doubt.

BAL. Assure thee, Don Lorenzo, he shall die,
Or else his Highness hardly shall deny.
Meanwhile, I'll haste the marshall sessions,
For die he shall for this his damned deed.

Exit BALTHAZAR.

LOR. [aside] Why, so! this fits our former policy;
And thus experience bids the wise and deal.
I lay the plot, he prosecutes the point;
I set the trap, he breaks the worthless twigs,
And sees not that wherewith the bird was lim'd.
Thus hopeful men, that means to hold their own,
Must look, like fowlers, to their dearest friends.
He runs to kill whom I have holp to catch,
And no man knows it was my reaching fetch.
'Tis hard to trust unto a multitude,--
Or any one, in mine opinion,
When men themselves their secrets will reveal.

Enter a MESSENGER with a letter.

LOR. Boy.

PAGE. My lord.

LOR. What's he?

MES. I have a letter to your lordship.

LOR. From whence?

MES. From Pedringano that's imprison'd.

LOR. So he is in prison then?

MES. Aye, my good lord.

LOR. What would he with us?

[Reads the letter.]

He writes us here
To stand good lord and help him in distress.
Tell him I have his letters, know his mind;
And what we may, let him assure him of.
Fellow, be gone; my boy shall follow thee.

Exit MESSENGER.

[Aside] This works like wax! Yet once more try thy wits.--
Boy, go convey this purse to Pedringano,--
Thou know'st the prison,--closely give it him,
And be advis'd that none be thereabout.
Bid him be merry still, but secret;
And, though the marshall sessions be today,
Bid him not doubt of his delivery.
Tell him his pardon is already sign'd,
And thereon bid him boldly be resolv'd;
For, were he ready to be turned off,--
As 'tis my will the uttermost be tried,--
Thou with his pardon shalt attend him still.
Show him this box, tell him his pardon's in't;
But open't not, and if thou lov'st thy life,
But let him wisely keep his hopes unknown.
He shall not want while Don Lorenzo lives.
Away!

PAGE. I go, my lord, I run!

LOR. But, sirrah, see that this be cleanly done.

Exit PAGE.

Now stands our fortune on a tickle point,
And now or never ends Lorenzo's doubts.
One only thing is uneffected yet,
And that's to see the executioner,--
But to what end? I list not trust the air
With utterance of our pretence therein,
For fear the privy whisp'ring of the wind
Convey our words amongst unfriendly ears,
That lie too open to advantages.
Et quel che voglio io, nessun lo sa,
Intendo io quel mi bastera.

Exit.

[ACT III. SCENE 5.]

[A street.]

Enter BOY with the box.

[BOY.] My master hath forbidden me to look in this box, and, by my troth, 'tis likely, if he had not warned me, I should not have had so much idle time; for we men-kind in our minority are like women in their uncertainty; that they are most forbidden, they will soonest attempt; so I now. By my bare honesty, here's nothing but the bare empty box! Were it not sin against secrecy, I would say it were a piece of gentlemanlike knavery. I must go to Pedringano and tell him his pardon is in this box! Nay, I would have sworn it, had I not seen the contrary. I cannot choose but smile to think how the villain will flout the gallows, scorn the audience, and descant on the hangman, and all presuming of his pardon from hence. Will't not be an odd jest, for me to stand and grace every jest he makes, pointing my finger at this box, as who should say: "Mock on, here's thy warrant!" Is't not a scurvy jest that a man should jest himself to death? Alas, poor Pedringano! I am in a sort sorry for thee, but, if I should be hanged with thee, I could not weep.

Exit.

[ACT III. SCENE 6.]

[The court of justice.]

Enter HIERONIMO and the DEPUTY.

HIERO. Thus must we toil in others men's extremes
That know not how to remedy our own,
And do them justice, when unjustly we
For all our wrongs can compass no redress.
But shall I never live to see the day
That I may come by justice to the Heav'ns
To know the cause that may my cares allay?
This toils my body, this consumeth age,
That only I to all men just must be,
And neither gods nor men be just to me!

DEP. Worthy Hieronimo, your office asks
A care to punish such as do transgress.

HIERO. So is't my duty to regard his death
Who when he liv'd deserv'd my dearest blood.
But come; for that we came for, let's begin;
For here lies that which bids me to be gone.

Enter OFFICERS, BOY, & PEDRINGANO with a letter
in his hand, bound.

DEPU. Bring forth the prisoner for the court is set.

PED. Gramercy, boy! but it was time to come,
For I had written to my lord anew
A nearer matter that concerneth him,
For fear his lordship had forgotten me;
But, sith he hath remember'd me so well,
Come, come, come on! when shall we to this gear?

HIERO. Stand forth, thou monster, murderer of men,
And here, for satisfaction of the world,
Confess thy folly and repent thy fault,
For there's thy place of execution.

PED. This is short work! Well, to your martiallship
First I confess, nor fear I death therefore,
I am the man,--'twas I slew Serberine.
But, sir, then you think this shall be the place
Where we shall satisfy you for this gear?

DEPU. Aye, Pedrigano.

PED. No I think not so.

HEIRO. Peace, impudent! for thou shalt find it so;
For blood with blood shall, while I sit as judge,
Be satisfied, and the law discharg'd.
And, though myself cannot receive the like,
Yet will I see that others have their right.
Dispatch! the fault approved and confess'd,
And by our law he is condemn'd to die.

HANG. Come on, sir! are you ready?

PED. To do what, my fine officious knave?

HANG. To go to this gear.

PED. O, sir, you are to forward; thou wouldst fain
furnish me with a halter, to disfurnish me of my habit.
So should I go out of this gear, my raiment, into that
gear, the rope. But, hangman, now I spy your knavery, I'll
not change without boot; that's flat.

HANG. Come, sir.

PED. So then I must up?

HANG. No remedy.

PED. Yes, but there shall be for my coming down.

HANG. Indeed here's a remedy for that.

PED. How? be turn'd off?

HANG. Aye, truly. Come, are you ready?
I pray you, sir, dispatch, the day goes away.

PED. What, do you hang by the hour? If you do, I
may chance to break your old custom.

HANG. Faith, you have no reason, for I am like to break
your young neck.

PED. Dost thou mock me, hangman? Pray God I be not
preserved to break your knaves-pate for this!

HANG. Alas, sir, you are a foot too low to reach it, and I
hope you will never grow so high while I am in office.

PED. Sirrah, dost see yonder boy with the box in his
hand?

HANG. What, he that points to it with his finger?

PED. Aye, that companion.

HANG. I know him not; but what of him?

PED. Dost thou think to live till his old doublet will
make thee a new truss?

HANG. Aye, and many a fair year after, to truss up many
an honester man then either thou or he.

PED. What hath he in his box, as thou thinkst?

HANG. Faith, I cannot tell, nor I care not greatly.
Me thinks you should rather hearken to your soul's health.

PED. Why, sirrah hangman, I take it that that is good for
the body is likewise good for the soul: and it may be in
that box is balm for both.

HANG. Well, thou art even the merriest piece of man's
flesh that e'er groaned at my office-door.

PED. Is your roguery become an office, with a knave's
name?

HANG. Aye, and that shall all they witness that see you seal
it with a thief's name.

PED. I prithee, request this good company to pray for
me.

HANG. Aye, marry, sir, this is a good motion! My masters,
you see here's a good fellow.

PED. Nay, nay, now I remember me, let them alone till
some other time; for now I have no great need.

HIERO. I have not seen a wretch so impudent.
O monstrous times where murders are so light,
And where the soul that should be shrin'd in heav'n
Solely delights in interdicted things,
Still wand'ring in the thorny passages
That intercepts itself of happiness!
Murder? O bloody monster! God forbid
A fault so foul should 'scape unpunished!
Dispatch and see this execution done;
This makes me to remember thee, my son.

Exit HIERONIMO.

PED. Nay, soft! no haste!

DEPU. Why, wherefore stay you? Have you hope of life?

PED. Why, aye.

HANG. As how?

PED. Why, rascal, by my pardon from the king.

HANG. Stand you on that? then you shall off with this.

He turns him off.

DEPU. So, executioner, convey him hence;
But let his body be unburied.
Let not the earth be choked or infect
What that which Heav'ns contemns and men neglect.

Exeunt.

[ACT III. SCENE 7.]

[HIERONIMO's house.]

Enter HIERONIMO.

HIER. Where shall I run to breath abroad my woes,--
My woes whose weight hath wearied the earth,
Or mine exclaims that have surcharg'd the air
With ceaseless plaints for my deceased son?
The blust'ring winds, conspiring with my words,
At my lament have mov'd to leafless trees,
Disrob'd the meadows of their flower'd green,
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! The man, sir,--
Petergade, sir: he that was so full of merry conceits--

HIER. Well, what of him?

HANG. O Lord, sir! he went the wrong way; the fellow
had a fair commission to the contrary. Sir, here is his
passport, I pray you, sir; we have done him wrong.

HIERO. I warrant thee; give it me.

HANG. You will stand between the gallows and me?

HIERO. Aye, aye!

HANG. I thank your lord's worship.

Exit HANGMAN.

HIERO. And yet, though somewhat nearer me concerns
I will, to ease the grief that I sustain,
Take truce with sorrow while I read on this.
[Reads] "My lord, I writ, as mine extremes requir'd,
That you would labour my delivery:
If you neglect, my life is desperate,
And in my death I shall reveal the troth.
You know, my lord, I slew him for your sake,
And was confed'rate with the prince and you;
Won by rewards and hopeful promises,
I holp to murder Don Horatio too."--
Holp he to murder mine Horatio?
And actors in th' accursed tragedy
Wast thou, Lorenzo? Balthazar and thou,
Of whom my son, my son deserv'd so well?
What have I heard? what have mine eyes beheld?
O sacred heav'ns, may it come to pass
That such a monstrous and detested deed,
So closely smoother'd and so long conceal'd,
Shall thus by this be venged or reveal'd?
Now see I what I durst not then suspect,
That Bel-imperia's letter was not feign'd,
Nor feigned she, though falsely they have wrong'd
Both her, myself, Horatio and themselves.
Now may I make compare 'twixt hers and this
Of every accident. I ne'er could find
Till now, and now I feelingly perceive,
They did what Heav'n unpunish'd should not leave.
O false Lorenzo! are these thy flattering looks?
Is this the honour that thou didst my son?
And, Balthazar,--bane to thy soul and me!--
What this the ransom he reserv'd for thee?
Woe to the cause of these constrained wars!
Woe to thy baseness and captivity!
Woe to thy birth, thy body and thy soul,
Thy cursed father, and thy conquer'd self!
And bann'd with bitter execrations be
The day and place where he did pity thee!
But wherefore waste I mine unfruitful words,
When naught but blood will satisfy my woes?
I will go plain me to my lord the king,
And cry aloud for justice through the court,
Wearing the flints with these my wither'd feet,
And either purchase justice by entreats
Or tire them all with my revenging threats.

Exit.

[ACT III. SCENE 8.]

[HIERONIMO's house.]

Enter ISABELL and her MAID.

ISA. So that you say this herb will purge the eyes,
And this the head? Ah! but none of them will purge the
heart!
No, there's no medicine left for my disease,
Nor any physic to recure the dead.

She runs lunatic.

Horatio! O, where's Horatio?

MAID. Good madam, affright not thus yourself
With outrage for your son Horatio;
He sleeps in quiet in the Elysian fields.

ISA. Why did I not give you gowns and goodly things,
Bought you a whistle and a whipstalk too,
To be revenged on their villainies?

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?

Exeunt.

[ACT III. SCENE 9.]

[The DUKE's castle.]

BEL-IMPERIA at a window.

BEL. What means this outrage that is offer'd me?
Why am I thus sequester'd from the court?
No notice? shall I not know the cause
Of these my secret and suspicious ills?
Accursed brother! unkind murderer!
Why bend'st thou thus thy mind to martyr me?
Hieronimo, why writ I of thy wrongs,
Or why art thou so slack in thy revenge?
Andrea! O Andrea, that thou sawest
Me for thy friend Horatio handled thus,
And him for me thus causeless murdered!
Well, force perforce, I must constrain myself
To patience, and apply me to the time,
Till Heav'n, as I have hop'd, shall set me free.

Enter CHRISTOPHEL.

CHRIS. Come, Madame Bel-imperia, this must not be!

Exeunt.

[ACT III. Scene 10.]

[A room in the DUKE's castle.]

Enter LORENZO, BALTHAZAR and the PAGE.

LOR. Boy, talk no further; thus far things go well.
Thou art assur'd that thou sawest him dead?

PAGE. Or else, my lord, I live not.

LOR. That's enough.
As for this resolution at his end,
Leave that to him with whom he sojourns now.
Here, take my ring, and give it Christophel,
And bid him let my sister be enlarg'd,
And bring her hither straight.

Exit PAGE.

This that I did was for a policy,
To smooth and keep the murder secret,
Which as a nine days wonder being o'er-blown,
My gentle sister will I now enlarge.

BAL. And time, Lorenzo; for my lord the duke,
You heard, enquired for her yester-night.

LOR. Why! and, my lord, I hope you heard me say
Sufficient reason why she kept away;
But that's all one. My lord, you love her?

BAL. Aye.

LOR. Then in your love beware; deal cunningly;
Salve all suspicions; only soothe me up,
And, if she hap to stand on terms with us,
As for her sweet-heart, and concealment so,
Jest with her gently; under feigned jest
Are things conceal'd that else would breed unrest.
But here she comes.

Enter BEL-IMPERIA.

LOR. Now, sister.

BEL. Sister? No!
Thou art no brother, but an enemy,
Else wouldst thou not have us'd thy sister so:
First, to affright me with thy weapons drawn,
And with extremes abuse my company;
And then to hurry me like whirlwind's rage
Amidst a crew of thy confederates,
And clap me up where none might come at me,
Nor I at any to reveal my wrongs.
What madding fury did possess thy wits?
Or wherein is't that I offended thee?

LOR. Advise you better, Bel-imperia;
For I have done you no disparagement,--
Unless, by more discretion then deserv'd,
I sought to save your honour and mine own.

BEL. Mine honour? Why, Lorenzo, wherein is't
That I neglect my reputation so
As you, or any, need to rescue it?

LOR. His Highness and my father were resolv'd
To come confer with old Hieronimo
Concerning certain matters of estate
That by the viceroy was determined.

BEL. And wherein was mine honour touch'd in that?

BAL. Have patience, Bel-imperia; hear the rest.

LOR. Me, next in sight, as messenger they sent
To give him notice that they were so nigh:
Now, when I came, consorted with the prince,
And unexpected in an arbor there
Found Bel-imperia with Horatio--

BEL. How then?

LOR. Why, then, rememb'ring that old disgrace
Which you for Don Andrea had endur'd,
And now were likely longer to sustain
By being found so meanly accompanied,
Thought rather, for I knew no readier mean,
To thrust Horatio forth my father's way.

BAL. And carry you obscurely somewhere else,
Lest that his Highness should have found you there.

BEL. Ev'n so, my lord? And you are witness
That this is true which he entreateth of?
You, gentle brother, forg'd this for my sake?
And you, my lord, were made his instrument?
A work of worth! worthy the noting too!
But what's the cause that you conceal'd me since?

LOR. Your melancholy, sister, since the news
Of your first favorite Don Andrea's death
My father's old wrath hath exasperate.

BAL. And better was't for you, being in disgrace,
To absent yourself and give his fury place.

BEL. But why I had no notice of his ire?

LOR. That were to add more fuel to your fire,
Who burnt like Aetna for Andrea's loss.

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.

BAL. 'Tis of thy beauty, then, that conquers kings,
Of those thy tresses, Ariadne's twines,
Wherewith my liberty thou hast surpris'd,
Of that thine ivory front, my sorrow's map,
Wherein I see no hav'n to rest my hope.

BEL. To love and fear, and both at once, my lord,
In my conceit, are things of more import
Then women's wit are to be busied with.

BAL. 'Tis I that love.

BEL. Whom?

BAL. Bel-imperia.

BEL. But I that fear.

BAL. Whom?

BEL. Bel-imperia.

LOR. Fear yourself?

BEL. Aye, brother.

LOR. How?

BEL. As those
That, when they love, are loath and fear to lose.

BAL. Then, fair, let Balthazar your keeper be.

BEL. No, Balthazar doth fear as well as we;
Et tremulo metui pavidum junxere timorem,
Est vanum stolidae proditionis opus.

Exit.

LOR. Nay, and you argue things so cunningly,
We'll go continue this discourse at court.

BAL. Led by the loadstar of her heav'nly looks,
Wends poor oppressed Balthazar,
As o'er the mountains walks the wanderer
Incertain to effect his pilgrimage.

Exeunt.

[ACT III. SCENE 11.]

[A street.]

Enter two PORTINGALES, and HIERONIMO
meets them.

I PORT. By your leave, sir.

HIERO. Good leave have you; nay, I pray you go,
For I'll leave you, if you can leave me so.

II PORT. Pray you, which is the next way to my lord
the duke's?

HIERO. The next way from me.

I PORT. To the house, we mean.

HIERO. O hard by; 'tis yon house that you see.

II PORT. You could not tell us if his son were there?

HIERO. Who? my lord Lorenzo?