A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05

English drama

VILLUPPO.

    Rent with remembrance of so foul a deed,
    My guilty soul[148] submits me to thy doom:
    For not for Alexandro's injuries,
    But for reward and hope to be preferr'd,
    Thus have I shamelessly hazarded his life.

                                VICEROY.

    Which, villain, shall be ransom'd with thy death;
    And not so mean a torment as we here
    Devis'd for him who, thou said'st, slew our son:
    But with the bitter'st torments and extremes,
    That may be yet invented for thine end.

                                              [ALEX. _seems to entreat_.

    Entreat me not; go take the traitor hence:

                                                       [_Exit_ VILLUPPO.

    And, Alexandro, let us honour thee
    With public notice of thy loyalty.
    To end those things articulated here
    By our great lord, the mighty King of Spain,
    We with our council will deliberate:
    Come, Alexandro, keep us company.                         [_Exeunt._

                           _Enter_ HIERONIMO.

                               HIERONIMO.

    O eyes! no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears:
    O life! no life, but lively form of death:
    O world! no world, but mass of public wrongs,
    Confus'd and fill'd with murder and misdeeds:
    O sacred heav'ns! if this unhallow'd deed,
    If this inhumane and barbarous attempt;
    If this incomparable murder thus
    Of mine, but now no more my son,
    Shall unreveal'd and unrevenged pass,
    How should we term your dealings to be just,
    If you unjustly deal with those that in your justice trust?
    The night, sad secretary to my moans,
    With direful visions wake[s] my vexed soul,
    And with the wounds of my distressful son,
    Solicit[s] me for notice of his death.
    The ugly fiends do sally forth of hell,
    And frame my steps to unfrequented paths,
    And fear[149] my heart with fierce inflamed thoughts.
    The cloudy day my discontents[150] records,
    Early begins to register my dreams,
    And drive[s] me forth to seek the murderer.
    Eyes, life, world, heav'ns, hell, night, and day,
    See, search, show, send some man,
    Some mean, that may--                           [_A letter falleth._
    What's here? a letter? tush! it is not so:
    A letter written to Hieronimo.                           [_Red ink._

        _For want of ink, receive this bloody writ;_
        _Me hath my hapless brother hid from thee:_
        _Revenge thyself on Balthazar and him;_
        _For these were they that murdered thy son._
        _Hieronimo, revenge Horatio's death,_
        _And better far than Bell'-Imperia doth._

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05

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