Made this device to end the difference: Send him, quoth he, to our infernal king, To doom him as best seems his majesty. To this effect my passport straight was drawn, In keeping on my way to Pluto's court, Through dreadful shades of ever-glooming night,[12] I saw more sights than thousand tongues can tell, Or pens can write, or mortal hearts can think. Three ways there were: that on the right-hand side Was ready way unto the 'foresaid fields,[13] Where lovers live and bloody martialists; But either sort contain'd within his bounds. The left-hand path, declining fearfully, Was ready downfal[14] to the deepest hell, Where bloody furies shake their whips of steel, And poor Ixion turns an endless wheel; Where usurers are chok'd with melting gold, And wantons are embrac'd with ugly snakes; And murderers groan[15] with never-killing wounds, And perjur'd wights scalded in boiling lead, And all foul sins with torments overwhelm'd. 'Twixt these two ways I trod the middle path, Which brought me to the fair Elysian green; In midst whereof there stands a stately tower, The walls of brass, the gates of adamant: Here finding Pluto with his Proserpine, I show'd my passport, humbled on my knee; Whereat fair Proserpine began to smile,[16] And begg'd that only she might give my doom: Pluto was pleas'd, and seal'd it with a kiss. Forthwith, Revenge, she rounded thee in th' ear,[17] And bad thee lead me through the gates of horn,[18] Where dreams have passage in the silent night. No sooner had she spoke, but we were here-- I wot not how--in twinkling of an eye. REVENGE. Then know, Andrea, that thou art arriv'd Where thou shalt see the author of thy death, Don Balthazar, the prince of Portingal, Depriv'd of life by Bell'-Imperia. Here sit we down to see the mystery, And serve for Chorus in this tragedy. _Enter Spanish_ KING, GENERAL, CASTILE, _and_ HIERONIMO. KING. Now say, lord General, how fares our camp? GENERAL. All well, my sovereign liege, except some few That are deceas'd by fortune of the war. KING. But what portends[19] thy cheerful countenance, And posting to our presence thus in haste? Speak, man, hath fortune given us victory? GENERAL. Victory, my liege, and that with little loss. KING. Our Portingals will pay us tribute then? GENERAL. Tribute and wonted homage therewithal. KING. Then bless'd be heav'n, and guider of the heavens, From whose fair influence such justice flows. CASTILE.