A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05

English drama

VICEROY.

    They reck no laws, that meditate revenge.

                               ALEXANDRO.

    His ransom's worth will stay from foul revenge.

                               VICEROY.

    No; if he liv'd, the news would soon be here.

                               ALEXANDRO.

    Nay, evil news fly[60] faster still than good.

                                VICEROY.

    Tell me no more of news; for he is dead.

                               VILLUPPO.

    My sovereign, pardon the author of ill-news,
    And I'll bewray the fortune of thy son.

                                VICEROY.

    Speak on, I'll guerdon thee, whate'er it be:
    Mine ear is ready to receive ill-news;
    My heart grown hard 'gainst mischief's battery.
    Stand up, I say, and tell thy tale at large.

                               VILLUPPO.

    Then hear that[61] truth, which these mine eyes have seen:
    When both the armies were in battle join'd,
    Don Balthazar, amidst the thickest troops,
    To win renown did wondrous feats of arms:
    Amongst the rest I saw him, hand to hand,
    In single fight with their lord-general;
    Till Alexandro, that here counterfeits
    Under the colour of a duteous friend,
    Discharg'd his pistol at the prince's back,
    As though he would have slain their general:
    But therewithal Don Balthazar fell down;
    And when he fell, then we began to fly:
    But, had he liv'd, the day had sure been ours.

                               ALEXANDRO.

    O wicked forgery! O trait'rous miscreant!

                                VICEROY.

    Hold thou thy peace! but now, Villuppo, say,
    Where then became the carcase of my son?

                               VILLUPPO.

    I saw them drag it to the Spanish tents.

                                VICEROY.

    Ay, ay; my nightly dreams have told me this.
    Thou false, unkind, unthankful, trait'rous beast,
    Wherein had Balthazar offended thee,
    That thou shouldst thus betray him to our foes?
    Was't Spanish gold that bleared so thine eyes,
    That thou couldst see no part of our deserts?
    Perchance, because thou art Tercera's lord,
    Thou hadst[62] some hope to wear this diadem,
    If first my son and then myself, were slain;
    But thy ambitious thought[63] shall break thy neck:
    Ay, this was it that made thee spill his blood,

                            [_He takes the crown, and puts it on again._

    But I'll now[64] wear it, till thy blood be spilt.

                               ALEXANDRO.

    Vouchsafe, dread[65] sovereign, to hear me speak.

                                VICEROY.

    Away with him; his sight is second hell:
    Keep him till we determine of his death.
    If Balthazar be dead, he shall not live.
    Villuppo, follow us for thy reward.

                                                           [_Exit_ VICE.


                               VILLUPPO.

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

A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 05

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