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SCENE VI
Enter Hieronimo and the Deputy.
Hier. Thus must we toil in other men's extremes,
That know not how to remedy our own;
And do them justice, when unjustly we,
For all our wrongs, can compass no redress.
But shall I never live to see the day,
That I may come, by justice of the heavens,
To know the cause that may my cares allay?
This toils my body, this consumeth age,
That only I to all men just must be,
And neither gods nor men be just to me.
Dep. Worthy Hieronimo, your office asks
A care to punish such as do transgress.
Hier. So is 't my duty to regard his death
Who, when he liv'd, deserv'd my dearest blood.
But come, for that we came for: let's begin;
For here lies that which bids me to be gone.
Enter Officers, Page , [Hangman], and Pedringano, with a letter in his hand, bound.
Dep. Bring forth the prisoner, for the court is set.
Ped. Gramercy, boy, but it was time to come;
For I had written to my lord anew
A nearer matter that concerneth him,
For fear his lordship had forgotten me.
But sith he hath remember'd me so well—
Come, come, come on, when shall we to this gear?
Hier. Stand forth, thou monster, murderer of men,
And here, for satisfaction of the world,
Confess thy folly, and repent thy fault;
For there's thy place of execution.
Ped. This is short work: well, to your marshalship
First I confess—nor fear I death therefore—:
I am the man, 'twas I slew Serberine.
But, sir, then you think this shall be the place,
Where we shall satisfy you for this gear?
Dep. Ay, Pedringano.
Ped. Now I think not so.
Hier. Peace, impudent; for thou shall find it so:
For blood with blood shall, while I sit as judge,
Be satisfied, and the law discharg'd.
And though myself cannot receive the like,
Yet will I see that others have their right.
Despatch: the fault's approvèd and confess'd,
And by our law he is condemn'd to die.
Hangm. Come on, sir, are you ready?
Ped. To do what, my fine, officious knave?
Hangm. To go to this gear.
Ped. O sir, you are too forward: thou wouldst fain furnish me with a halter, to disfurnish me of my habit. So I should go out of this gear, my raiment, into that gear, the rope. But, hangman, now I spy your knavery, I'll not change without boot, that's flat.
Hangm. Come, sir.
Ped. So, then, I must up?
Hangm. No remedy.
Ped. Yes, but there shall be for my coming down.
Hangm. Indeed, here's a remedy for that.
Fed. How? be turned off?
Hangm. Ay, truly; come, are you ready? I pray, sir, despatch; the day goes away.
Ped. What, do you hang by the hour? if you do, I may chance to break your old custom.
Hangm. Faith, you have reason; for I am like to break your young neck.
Ped. Dost thou mock me, hangman? pray God, I be not preserved to break your knave's pate for this.
Hangm. Alas, sir! you are a foot too low to reach it, and I hope you will never grow so high while I am in the office.
Ped. Sirrah, dost see yonder boy with the box in his hand?
Hangm. What, he that points to it with his finger?
Ped. Ay, that companion.
Hangm. I know him not; but what of him?
Ped. Dost thou think to live till his old doublet will make thee a new truss?
Hangm. Ay, and many a fair year after, to truss up many an honester man than either thou or he.
Ped. What hath he in his box, as thou thinkest?
Hangm. Faith, I cannot tell, nor I care not greatly; methinks you should rather hearken to your soul's health.
Ped. Why, sirrah hangman, I take it that that is good for the body is likewise good for the soul: and it may be, in that box is balm for both.
Hangm. Well, thou art even the merriest piece of man's flesh that e'er groaned at my office door!
Ped. Is your roguery become an office with a knave's name?
Hangm. Ay, and that shall all they witness that see you seal it with a thief s name.
Ped. I prithee, request this good company to pray with me.
Hangm. Ay, marry, sir, this is a good motion: my masters, you see here's a good fellow.
Ped. Nay, nay, now I remember me, let them alone till some other time; for now I have no great need.
Hier. I have not seen a wretch so impudent.
O monstrous times, where murder's set so light,
And where the soul, that should be shrin'd in heaven,
Solely delights in interdicted things,
Still wand'ring in the thorny passages,
That intercepts itself of happiness.
Murder! O bloody monster! God forbid
A fault so foul should 'scape unpunished
Despatch, and see this execution done!—
This makes me to remember thee, my son.
[Exit Hieronimo.
Ped. Nay, soft, no haste.
Dep. Why, wherefore stay you? Have you hope of life?
Ped. Why, ay!
Hangm. As how?
Ped. Why, rascal, by my pardon from the king.
Hangm. Stand you on that? then you shall off with this.
[He turns him off.
Dep. So, executioner;—convey him hence;
But let his body be unburièd:
Let not the earth be chokèd or infect
With that which heav'n contemns, and men neglect.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII
Enter Hieronimo.
Hier. Where shall I run to breathe abroad my woes,
My woes, whose weight hath wearièd the earth?
Or mine exclaims, that have surcharg'd the air
With ceaseless plaints for my deceasèd son?
The blust'ring winds, conspiring with my words,
At my lament have mov'd the leafless trees,
Disrob'd the meadows of their flower'd green,
Made mountains marsh with spring-tides of my tears,
And broken through the brazen gates of hell.
Yet still tormented is my tortur'd soul
With broken sighs and restless passions,
That wing'd mount; and, hov'ring in the air,
Beat at the windows of the brightest heavens,
Soliciting for justice and revenge:
But they are plac'd in those empyreal heights,
Where, countermur'd with walls of diamond,
I find the place impregnable; and they
Resist my woes, and give my words no way.
Enter Hangman with a letter.
Hangm. O lord, sir! God bless you, sir! the man, sir, Petergade, sir, he that was so full of merry conceits—
Hier. Well, what of him?
Hangm. O lord, sir, he went the wrong way; the fellow had a fair commission to the contrary. Sir, here is his passport; I pray you, sir, we have done him wrong.
Hier. I warrant thee, give it me.
Hangm. You will stand between the gallows and me?
Hier. Ay, ay.
Hangm. I thank your lord worship.
[Exit Hangman.
Hier. And yet, though somewhat nearer me concerns,
I will, to ease the grief that I sustain,
Take truce with sorrow while I read on this.
'My lord, I write, as mine extremes requir'd,
That you would labour my delivery:
If you neglect, my life is desperate,
And in my death I shall reveal the troth.
You know, my lord, I slew him for your sake,
And was confed'rate with the prince and you;
Won by rewards and hopeful promises,
I holp to murder Don Horatio too.'—
Holp he to murder mine Horatio?
And actors in th' accursèd tragedy
Wast thou, Lorenzo, Balthazar and thou,
Of whom my son, my son deserv'd so well?
What have I heard, what have mine eyes beheld?
O sacred heavens, may it come to pass
That such a monstrous and detested deed,
So closely smother'd, and so long conceal'd,
Shall thus by this be vengèd or reveal'd?
Now see I what I durst not then suspect,
That Bellimperia's letter was not feign'd.
Nor feignèd she, though falsely they have wrong'd
Both her, myself, Horatio, and themselves.
Now may I make compare 'twixt hers and this,
Of every accident I ne'er could find
Till now, and now I feelingly perceive
They did what heav'n unpunish'd would not leave.
O false Lorenzo! are these thy flatt'ring looks?
Is this the honour that them didst my son?
And Balthazar—bane to thy soul and me!
Was this the ransom he reserv'd thee for?
Woe to the cause of these constrainèd wars!
Woe to thy baseness and captivity,
Woe to thy birth, thy body and thy soul,
Thy cursèd father, and thy conquer'd self!
And bann'd with bitter execrations be
The day and place where he did pity thee!
But wherefore waste I mine unfruitful words,
When naught but blood will satisfy my woes?
I will go plain me to my lord the king,
And cry aloud for justice through the court,
Wearing the flints with these my wither'd feet;
And either purchase justice by entreats,
Or tire them all with my revenging threats.
[Exit.
SCENE VIII
Enter Isabella and her Maid.
Isab. So that, you say, this herb, will purge the eye,
And this, the head?—
Ah!—but none of them will purge the heart!
No, there's no medicine left for my disease,
Nor any physic to recure the dead.
[She runs lunatic.
Horatio! O, where's Horatio?
Maid. Good madam, affright not thus yourself
With outrage for your son Horatio:
He sleeps in quiet in the Elysian fields.
Isab. Why, did I not give you gowns and goodly things,
Bought you a whistle and a whipstalk too,
To be revenged on their villanies?
Maid. Madam, these humours do torment my soul.
Isab. My soul—poor soul! thou talk'st of things—
Thou know'st not what: my soul hath silver wings,
That mounts me up unto the highest heavens;
To hea'nn: ay, there sits my Horatio,
Back'd with a troop of fiery Cherubins,
Dancing about his newly healèd wounds,
Singing sweet hymns and chanting hean'nly notes:
Rare harmony to greet his innocence,
That died, ay died, a mirror in our days.
But say, where shall I find the men, the murderers,
That slew Horatio? Whither shall I run
To find them out that murdered my son?
[Exeunt.
