BEL-IMPERIA. Is this the loue that bearst Horatio? Is this the kindnes that thou counterfeits, Are these the fruits of thine incessant teares? Hieronimo, are these thy passions, Thy protestations and thy deepe laments, That thou wert wont to wearie men withall? O vnkinde father! O deceitfull world! With what excuses canst thou shew thy-selfe,-- With what dishonour, and the hate of men,-- Thus to neglect the losse and life of him Whom both my letters and thine owne beliefe Assures thee to be causeles slaughtered? Hieronimo! for shame, Hieronimo, Be not a history to after times Of such ingratitude vnto thy sonne! Vnhappy mothers of such chldren then! But monstrous fathers, to forget so soone The death of those whom they with care and cost Haue tendred so, thus careles should be lost! My-selfe, a stranger in respect to thee, So loued his life as still I wish their deathes. Nor shall his death be vnreuengd by me. Although I beare it out for fashions sake; For heere I sweare in sight of heauen and earth, Shouldst thou neglect the loue thou shoudlst retain And giue ouer and deuise no more, My-selfe should send their hatefull soules to hel That wrought his downfall with extreamest death! HIE. But may it be that Bel-imperia Vowes such reuenge as she hath dain'd to say? Why then, I see that heauen applies our drift, And all the saints doe sit soliciting For vengeance on those cursed murtherers. Madame, tis true, and now I find it so. I found a letter, written in your name, And in that letter, how Horatio died. Pardon, O pardon, Bel-imperia, My feare and care in not beleeuing it! Nor thinke I thoughtles thinke vpon a meane To let his death be vnreuenge'd at full. And heere I vow, so you but giue consent And will conceale my resolution, I will ere long determine of their deathes That causeles thus haue murderd my sonne. BEL. Hieronimo, I will consent, conceale, And ought that may effect for thine auaile, Ioyne with thee to reuenge Horatios death. HIER. On then, [and] whatsoeuer I deuise, Let me entreat you grace my practice, For-why the plots already in mine head.-- Heere they are! Enter BALTHAZAR and LORENZO. BAL. How now, Hieronimo? What, courting Bel-imperia? HIERO. I, my lord, Such courting as, I promise you, She hath my hart, but you, my lord, haue hers. LOR. But now, Hieronmimo, or neuer we are to intreate your helpe. HIE. My help? why, my good lords, assure your-selues of me; For you haue giuen me cause,--I, by my faith, haue you!