Where shall I run to breathe 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 the leafless trees, Disrob'd the meadows of their flower'd green, Made mountains march with spring-tides[183] 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[184] at the windows of the brightest heavens, Soliciting for justice and revenge: But they are plac'd in those imperial 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_. HANGMAN. O lord, sir: God bless you, sir! the man, sir, Petergad, sir, he that was so full of merry conceits---- HIERONIMO. Well, what of him? HANGMAN. 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. HIERONIMO. I warrant thee, give it me. HANGMAN. You will stand between the gallows and me? HIERONIMO. Ay, ay. HANGMAN. I thank your lord worship. [_Exit_ HANGMAN. HIERONIMO. 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. _My lord, I write 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 confederate with the prince and you:_ _Won by rewards and hopeful promises,_ _I holp to murder Don Horatio too._