Thomas Kyd - The Spanish Tragedy ACT 3. SCENE 14. lyrics

The Spanish court. Enter KING OF SPAINE, the DUKE, VICE-ROY, and LORENZO, BALTHAZAR, DON PEDRO, and BELIMPERIA. KING. Go, brother, it is the Duke of Castiles cause; Salute the vice-roy in our name. CASTILE. I go. VICE. Go forth, Don Pedro, for they nephews sake, And greet the Duke of Castile. PEDRO. It shall be so. KING. And now to meet these Portaguise; For, as we now are, so sometimes were these, Kings and commanders of the westerne Indies. Welcome, braue vice-roy, to the court of Spaine! And welcome, all his honorable traine! Tis not vnknowne to vs for why you come, Or haue so kingly crost the seas. Suffiseth it, in this we note the troth And more then common loue you lend to vs. So is it that mine honorable neece, For it beseemes vs now that it be knowne, Already is betroth'd to Balthazar; And, by appointment and our condiscent, To-morrow are they to be married. To this intent we entertaine thy-selfe, Thy followers, their pleasure, and our peace. Speak, men of Portingale, shall it be so? If I, say so; if not, say so flatly. VICE. Renowned king, I come not, as thou thinkst, With doubtfull followers, vnresolued men, But such as haue vpon thine articles Confirmed thy motion and contented me. Know, soueraigne, I come to solemnize The marriage of they beloued neece, Faire Bel-imperia, with my Balthazar,— With thee, my sonne, whom sith I liue to see, Heere, take my crowne, I giue it to her and thee, And let me liue a solitarie life, In ceaseless praiers, To think how strangely heauen hath thee preserued. KING. See, brother, see, how nature striues in him! Come, worthy vice-roy, and accompany They freend, [to strive] with thine extremities: A place more priuate fits this princely mood. VICE. Or heere or where your Highnes thinks it good. Exeunt all but CAST[TILE] and LOR[ENZO]. CAS. Nay, stay, Lorenzo; let me talke with you. Seest thou this entertainement of these kings? LOR. I doe, my lord, and ioy to see the same. CAS. And knowest thou why this meeting is? LOR. For her, my lord, whom Balthazar doth loue, And to confirme their promised marriage. CAS. She is thy sister. LOR. Who? Bel-imperia? I, my gratious lord, and this is the day That I haue longd so happily to see. CAS. Thou wouldst be loath that any fault of thine Should intercept her in her happines? LOR. Heauens will not let Lorenzo erre so much. CAS. Why then, Lorenzo, listen to my words: It is suspected, and reported too, That thou, Lorenzo, wrongst Hieronimo, And in his sutes toward his Maiestie Still keepst him back and seekes to crosse his sute. LOR. That I, my lord? CAS. I tell thee, sonne, my-selfe haue heard it said, When to my sorrow I haue been ashamed To answere for thee, though thou art my sonne. Lorenzo, knowest thou not the common loue And kindenes that Hieronimo hath wone By his deserts within the court of Spaine? Or seest thou not the k[ing] my brothers care In his behalfe and to procure his health? Lorenzo, shouldst thou thwart his pa**ions, And he exclaime against thee to the king, What honour wert in this a**embly, Or what a scandale were among the kings, To heare Hieronimo exclaime on thee! Tell me,—and loke thou tell me truely too,— Whence growes the ground of this report in court? LOR. My l[ord], it lyes not in Lorenzos power To stop the vulgar liberall of their tongues: A small aduantage makes a water-breach; And no man liues that long contenteth all. CAS. My-selfe haue seene thee busie to keep back Him and his supplications from the king. LOR. Your-selfe, my l[ord], hath seene his a**ions, That ill beseemde the presence of a king; And, for I pittied him in his distresse, I helde him thence with kinde and curteous words, As free from malice to Hieronimo As to my soule, my lord. CAS. Hieronimo, my sonne, mistakes thee then. LOR. My gratious father, beleeue me, so he doth; But whats a silly man, distract in minde To think vpon the murder of his sonne? Alas, how easie is it for him to erre! But, for his satisfaction and the worlds, Twere good, my l[ord], that Hieronimo and I Were reconcilde, if he misconster me. CAS. Lorenzo, that hast said; it shalbe so! Goe, one of you, and call Hieronimo. Etner BALTHAZAR and BEL-IMPERIA. BAL. Come, Bel-imperia, Balthazars content, My sorrowes ease, and soueraigne of my blisse,— Sith heauen hath [thee ordainded] to be mine, Disperce those cloudes and melanchollie lookes, And cleere them vp with those thy sunne-bright eies, Wherein my hope and heauens faire beautie lies! BEL. My lookes, my lord, are fitting for my loue, Which, new begun, can shew no brighter yet. BAL. New kindled flames should burne as morning sun. BEL. But not too fast, least heate and all be done. I see my lord my father. BAL. True, my loue; I will goe salute him. CAS. Welcome, Balthazar, Welcome, braue prince, the pledge of Castiles peace! And welcome Bel-imperia! How now, girle? Why commest thou sadly to salute vs thus? Content thy-selfe, for I am satisfied. It is not now as when Andrea liu'd; We haue forgotten and forgiuen that, And thou art graced with a happeir loue. But, Balthazar, heere comes Hieronimo; Ile haue a word with him. Enter HIERONIMO and a SERUANT. HIERO. And wheres the duke? SER. Yonder. HIERO. Euen so. [aside] What new deuice haue they deuised, tro? Pocas palabras! Milde as the lambe! Ist I will be reueng'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 Ile be gone; I thank you fort! CAS. Nay, stay, Hieronimo; goe call him, sonne. LOR. Hieronimo, my father craues a word with you. HIERO. With me, sir? Why, my l[ord], I thought you had done. LOR. [aside] No; would he had! CAS. Hieronimo, I hear You finde your-selfe agreeued at my sonne, Because you haue not accesse vnto the king, And say tis he that intercepts your sutes. HIERO. Why, is not this a miserable thing, my lord? CAS. Hieronimo, I hope you haue no cause, And would be loth that one of your deserts, Should once haue reason to suspect my sonne, Considering how I think of you my-selfe. HIERO. Your sonne Lorenzo? whome, my noble lord? The hope of Spaine? mine honorable freend? Graunt me the combat of them, if they dare! Drawes out his sword. Ile meet them face-to-face to tell me so! These be the scandalous reports of such As loues not me, and hate my lord too much. Should I suspect Lorenzo would preuent Or crosse my sute, that loued my sonne so well? My lord, I am ashamed it should be said. LOR. Hieronimo, I neuer gaue you cause. H[I]ERO. 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 Ciprians ancient seat; And when thou wilt, vse me, my sonne, and it. But heere before Prince Balthazar and me Embrace each other, and be perfect freends. HIERO. I, marry, my lord, and shall! Freends, quoth he? See, Ile be freends with you all! Especially with you, my louely lord; For diuers causes it is fit for vs That we be freends. The world is suspitious, And men may think what we imagine not. BAL. Why this is freely doone, Hieronimo. LOR. And I hope olde grudges are forgot. HIERO. What els? it were a shame it should not be so! CAS. Come on, Hieronimo, at my request; Let vs entreat your company to-day! Exeunt. CHORUS. Enter GHOAST and REUENGE. GHOST. Awake Erictho! Cerberus, awake! Sollicite Pluto, gentle Proserpine! To combat, Achinon and Ericus in hell! For neere by Stix and Phlegeton [there came.] Nor ferried Caron to the fierie lakes, Such fearfull sights, as poore Andrea see[s]? Reuenge awake! REUENGE. Awake? for-why? GHOST. Awake, Reuenge! for thou art ill aduisde To sleepe away what thou art warnd to watch! REUENGE. Content thy-selfe, and doe not trouble me. GHOST. Awake, Reuenge, if loue, as loue hath had, Haue yet the power of preuailance in hell! Hieronimo with Lorenzo is ioynde in league, And intecepts our pa**age to reuenge. Awake, Reuenge, or we are woe-begone! REUENGE. Thus worldings ground what they haue dreamd vpon! Content thy-selfe, Andrea; though I sleepe, Yet is my mood soliciting their soules. Sufficeth thee that poore Hieronimo Cannot forget his sonne Horatio. Nor dies Reuegne although he sleepe a-while; For in vnquiet, quietnes is faind, And slumbring is a common worldly wile. Beholde, Andrea, for an instance how Reuenge hath slept; and then imagine thou What tis to be subiect to destinie. Enter a Dumme-show. GHOST. Awake, Reuenge! reueale this misterie! REUENGE. The two first [do] the nuptiall torches beare, As brightly burning as the mid-daies sunne; But after them doth Himen hie as fast, Clothed in sable and saffron robe, And blowes them out and quencheth them with blood, As discontent that things continue so. GHOST. Sufficeth me; thy meanings vnderstood, And thanks to thee and those infernall powers That will not tollerate a louers woe. Rest thee; for I will sit to see the rest. REUENGE. Then argue not; for thou hast thy request. Exeunt.