A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05
General
A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05
English drama
O damned devil, how secure[323] he is!
HIERONIMO.
Secure? why dost thou wonder at it?
I tell thee, Viceroy, this day I have seen revenge,[324]
And in that fight am grown a prouder monarch,
Than ever sat under the crown of Spain.
Had I as many lives as there be stars,
As many heavens to go to as those lives,
I'd give them all, ay, and my soul to boot,
But I would see thee ride in this red pool.
CASTILE.
Speak, who were thy confederates in this?
VICEROY.
That was thy daughter, Bell'-Imperia;
For by her hand my Balthazar was slain:
I saw her stab him.
HIERONIMO.
O good words! as dear to me was my Horatio,
As yours, or yours, or yours, my lord, to you.
My guiltless son was by Lorenzo slain,
And by Lorenzo and that Balthazar
Am I at last revenged thoroughly;
Upon whose souls may heav'ns be yet aveng'd[325]
With greater far than these afflictions.
Methinks, since I grew inward[326] with revenge,
I cannot look with scorn enough on death.
KING.
What, dost thou[327] mock us, slave? Bring tortures forth.
HIERONIMO.
Do, do, do; and meantime I'll torture you.
You had a son, as I take it; and your son
Should have been married to your daughter: ha, was't not so?
You had a son too, he was my liege's nephew:
He was proud and politic: had he liv'd,
He might ha' come to wear the crown of Spain:
I think 'twas so; 'twas I that killed him,
Look you, this same hand was it that stabb'd
His heart--do you see this hand?--
For one Horatio, if you ever knew him?
A youth--one that they hang'd up in his father's garden:
One that did force your valiant son to yield,
While your valiant son did take him prisoner.
VICEROY.
Be deaf, my senses; I can hear no more.
KING.
Fall, heaven, and cover us with thy sad ruins.
CASTILE.
Roll all the world within thy pitchy cloud.
HIERONIMO.
Now do I applaud what I have acted.
_Nunc mors;_ [_nunc_] _cæde, manus._[328]
KING.
Why speakest thou not?[329]
HIERONIMO.
What lesser liberty can kings afford
Than harmless silence? then, afford it me:
Sufficeth, I may not, nor I will not tell thee.
KING.
Fetch forth the tortures.
Traitor as thou art, I'll make thee tell.
HIERONIMO.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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