Down with these branches and these loathsome boughs On this unfortunate and fatal pine! Down with them, Isabella; rent them up, And burns the roots from whence the rest is sprung! I will leave not a root, a stalk, a tree, A bough, a branch, a blossom, nor a leaf,-- Not, not an herb within this garden plot, Accursed complot of my misery! Fruitless forever may this garden be, Barren the earth, and blissless whosoever Imagines not to keep it unmanur'd! An eastern wind comix'd with noisome airs Shall blast the plants and young saplings here, The earth with serpents shall be pestered, And passengers, for fear to be infect, Shall stand aloof, and, looking at it, tell There, murder'd, died the son of Isabell. Aye, here he died, and here I him embrace! See where his ghost solicits with his wounds Revenge on her that should revenge his death! Hieronimo, make haste to see thy son, For Sorrow and Despair hath 'cited me To hear Horatio plead with Radamant. Make haste, Hieronimo, to hold excus'd Thy negligence in pursuit of their deaths Whose hateful wrath bereav'd him of his breath. Ah, nay; thou dost delay their deaths, Forgiv'st the murd'rers of thy noble son; And none but I bestir me,--to no end! And, as I curse this tree from further fruit, So shall my womb be cursed for his sake; And with this weapon will I wound this breast,-- That hapless breast that gave Horatio suck! She stabs herself. [ACT IV. SCENE 3.] [The DUKE's castle.] Enter HIERONIMO; he knocks up the curtain. Enter the DUKE OF CASTILE. CAS. How now, Hieronimo? where's your fellows, That you take all this pain? HIERO. O sir, it is for the author's credit To look that all things may go well. But, good my lord, let me entreat your Grace To give the king the copy of the play: This is the argument of what we show. CAS. I will, Hieronimo. HIERO. One more thing, my good lord. CAS. What's that? HIERO. Let me entreat your Grace That, when the train are pass'd into the gallery, You would vouchsafe to throw me down the key. CAS. I will Hieronimo. Exit CAS[TILE]. HIERO. What, are you ready, Balthazar? Bring a chair and a cushion for the king. Enter BALTHAZAR with a chair. Well done, Balthazar; hang up the title: Our scene is Rhodes. What, is your beard on? BAL. Half on, the other is in my hand. HIERO. Dispatch, for shame! are you so long? Exit BALTHAZAR.