BOMELIO. Thou heaven and earth, and ye eternal lamps That restless keep his course in order due; Thou, Phoebe bright, that scatterest the damps Of darksome night, I make my plaints to you. And thou, Alecto, hearken to my call; Let fall a serpent from thy snaky hair; Tisiphone, be swift to plague them all, That make a pastime of my care and fear! And thou, O Jove, that by thy great foresight Rulest the earth and reign'st above the skies; That wreak'st the wrongs of them that master right Against the wretches that thy name despise. And Rhadamanth, thou judge of hateful hell, Where damned ghosts continual moaning make, Send forth a fury that may further well The just revenge that here I undertake. Henceforth accursed be thou evermore, Accursed all thou tak'st in hand to do, The time, the day, accursed be the hour, The earth, the air, and all that 'long thereto! Dole and despair henceforth be thy delight, Wrapped now in present and woes to come, To wail the day and weep the weary night; And from this time henceforth I strike thee dumb. Think'st thou I knew thee not? Yes, well, i-wis, And that thy sister, daughter to my prince. Now brag abroad what thou hast got by this: So live thou dumb: that be thy recompense; And when thy ghost forsakes thy body quite, Vengeance I wish upon thy soul to light. _Enter_ HERMIONE. HERMIONE. Good even, good father: pardon my rudeness here. BOMELIO. O joy and grief! I will dissemble yet my cheer. [_Aside_. HERMIONE. Good sir, methought I heard you speak of one right now, Daughter unto a prince: that made me bold to trouble you. BOMELIO. I spake of such an one indeed. HERMIONE. Why, do you know her name? BOMELIO. Fidelia. Why do you ask? What, do you know the same? HERMIONE. Yea, father, that I do: I know, and knew her well. But did you wish those plagues to light on her, I pray you tell? BOMELIO. On her! the gods forbid; but on that wretched wight Her brother, that from hence right now perforce convey'd her quite. HERMIONE. Alas! what do I hear? Good father, tell me true, Hath she been here? BOMELIO. She was. HERMIONE. She was! Where is she now? BOMELIO. Gone back again. HERMIONE. Gone back! With whom? BOMELIO. Her brother. HERMIONE. Her brother! How? BOMELIO. He secret watched here; and when she should have stay'd Awhile with me, he rushed out and her from hence convey'd. HERMIONE. Confounded in my grief! And can it suff'red be? And shall he make a brag at home of his despite to me? First let me die a thousand deaths; draw, run and meet with him. BOMELIO. Tarry, my son; it is in vain: they are now[97] at home, I ween. Let him alone; he will not make great reck'ning of his gain. HERMIONE. Wretch that thou art for lingering! everlasting shall be thy pain; Continual thy complaint, aye-during still thy woe, Why mad'st thou not more haste to come, and first of all to know? BOMELIO. Content thyself, my son; torment not so thy mind: Assuage the sorrows of thy heart, in hope some help to find.