From fields Elysian, where the guiltless souls
Avoid the scourge of Rhadamanthus ire,
Let it be lawful (sith I am removed
From blessed islands to this cursed shore,
This loathed earth, where Arthur’s table stands,
With ordure foul of Harpies’ fierce distained)
The fates and hidden secrets to disclose
Of black Cocytus and of Acheron,
The floods of death, the lakes of burning souls,
Where hellish frogs do prophesy revenge;
Where Tartar sprites with careful heed attend
The dismal summons of Alecto’s mouth.
Myself by precept of Proserpina
Commanded was in presence to appear
Before the synod of the damned sprites.
In fearful mood I did perform their hest,
And, at my entrance in, th’ enchanted snakes,
Which wrap themselves about the furies’ necks,
Did hiss for joy: and from the dreadful bench[284]
The supreme fury thus assign’d her charge.
Gorlois, quoth she, thou thither must ascend,
Whence, through the rancour of malicious foes,
Wearied with wounds thou didst descend to us.
Make Britain now the mark of thy revenge:
On ruthless Britons and Pendragon’s race
Disburse the treasure of thy hellish plagues.
Let blood contend with blood, father with son,
Subject with prince, and let confusion reign.
She therewithal enjoin’d the dusky clouds,
Which with their darkness turn’d the earth to hell,
Convert to blood, and pour down streams of blood.
Cornwall shall groan, and Arthur’s soul shall sigh:
Before the conscience of Guenevera
The map of hell shall hang, and fiends shall rage;
And Gorlois’ ghost exacting punishment
With dreams, with horrors, and with deadly trance,
Shall gripe their hearts: the vision of his corse
Shall be to them, as was the terror vile
Of flaming whips to Agamemnon’s son.
And when the trumpet calls them from their rest,
Aurora shall with wat’ry cheeks behold
Their slaughtered bodies prostrate to her beams:
And on the banks of Camela shall lie
The bones of Arthur and of Arthur’s knights,
Whose fleet is now triumphing on the seas,
But shall be welcom’d with a tragedy.
Thy native soil shall be thy fatal gulf,
Arthur: thy place of birth thy place of death.
Mordred shall be the hammer of my hate
To beat the bones of Cornish lords to dust.
Ye ravening birds under Celœno’s power,
I do adjure you, in Alecto’s name,
Follow the sword of Mordred where he goes;
Follow the sword of Mordred for your food.
Aspiring Mordred, thou must also die,
And on the altar of Proserpina
Thy vital blood unto my ghost shall fume.
Heaven, earth, and hell concur to plague the man,
That is the plague of heaven, earth, and hell!
Thou bidd’st, Alecto: I pursue my charge.
Let thy Cerastæ whistle in mine ears,
And let the bells of Pluto ring revenge!
One other speech penned
by the same gentleman, and pronounced instead
of Gorlois his last speech penned by Thomas
Hughes, and set down in the second
Scene of the fifth and last Act.
Death hath his conquest, hell hath had his wish,
Gorlois his vow, Alecto her desire;
Sin hath his pay, and blood is quit with blood:
Revenge in triumph bears the struggling hearts!
Now, Gorlois, pierce the craggy rocks of hell,
Through chinks whereof infernal sprites do glance,
Return this answer to the furies’ court:
That Cornwall trembles with the thought of war,
And Tamar’s flood with drooping pace doth flow,
For fear of touching Camel’s bloody stream.
Britain, remember; write it on thy walls,
Which neither time nor tyranny may raze,
That rebels, traitors, and conspirators,
The seminary of lewd Catiline,
The bastard covey of Italian birds,
Shall feel the flames of ever-flaming fire,
Which are not quenched with a sea of tears.
And since in thee some glorious star must shine,
When many years and ages are expir’d,
Whose beams shall clear the mist of miscontent,
And make the damp of Pluto’s pit retire,
Gorlois will never fray the Britons more:
For Britain then becomes an angel’s land.
Both devils and sprites must yield to angels’ power,
Unto the goddess of the angels’ land.
Vaunt, Britain, vaunt of her renowmed reign,
Whose face deters the hags of hell from thee,
Whose virtues hold the plagues of heaven from thee;
Whose presence makes the earth fruitful to thee;
And with foresight of her thrice-happy days,
Britain, I leave thee to an endless praise.
Besides these speeches there was also penned a Chorus for the first
act, and another for the second act, by Master Francis Flower, which
were pronounced accordingly. The dumb shows were partly devised by
Master Christopher Yelverton, Master Francis Bacon, Master John
Lancaster and others, partly by the said Master Flower, who with
Master Penruddock and the said Master Lancaster, directed these
proceedings at Court.
[250] [A copy is in the library of the Duke of
Devonshire; it was formerly Kemble’s.]
[251] Shown to be _true_: the author has converted the
substantive _sooth_ into a verb.
[252] Ben Jonson opens his “Catiline” with the ghost of
Sylla “ranging for revenge,” and he was only thirteen
years old, when “The Misfortunes of Arthur” was
performed at Greenwich before the Queen. Hughes,
doubtless, had the commencement of Seneca’s “Thyestes”
in his mind, and throughout he has been indebted more
or less to that and other classical authorities. The
ghost of Polydorus opens the “Hecuba” of Euripides. The
ghost of Gorlois in this instance speaks the prologue
to the tragedy.
[253] _Pheer_ is companion, and is most ordinarily
applied to the male sex: Gorlois, however, refers to
the infidelity of his wife.
[254] Unwieldy or _unmanageable_ of herself--not having
any control over her actions. The sense is a little
constrained.
[255] These lines as they stand in the original are
nonsense--
“Whether to dround or stifll up _his_ breath,
_On sorcing_ blood to dye with dint of knife.”
[256] Milton has this thought, almost in the same
words, allowing for the difference of an interrogation.
“For where no hope is left, is left no fear.”
--_Par. Reg. III. 206._
[257] The word _should_ is accidentally repeated in
this line in the old copy.
[258] “But yet I’ll hope the best” is by mistake given
to Conan in the old copy.
[259] In the old copy Mordred’s reply is made a part of
Conan’s observation.
[260] By an apparent error in the original the five
preceding lines are given to Mordred.
[261] Arthur’s name is misprinted for that of Mordred
in this place in the original.
[262] It stands _rooms_ in the old copy, but to make
sense of the line we must read _grooms_. [Grooms is
here and afterwards used in the sense of _man_.]
[263] This reply, which belongs to Mordred, is given to
Conan in the old copy.
[264] Instead of the words “commons grudge,” “realm
envies” has been substituted and wafered over the text.
The alteration, like some others, seems to have been
originally pasted upon the objectionable passage.
[265] The following were substituted for the four
preceding lines.
“The first art in a kingdom is to scorn
The envy of the realm. He cannot rule
That fears to be envi’d. What can divorce
Envy from sovereignty? Must my deserts!”
[266] It does not appear whether Conan goes out, or
stands by, listening to the dialogue between Mordred
and Gawin in the following scene.
[267] _Pejor est bello timor ipse belli_--
Seneca, Thyestes, A. III. Chor.
Jasper Heywood (“Thyestes Faithfully Englished.” 1560)
thus translates this passage--
“Worse is then warre it selfe the feare of fyght.”
[268] [_Dulce bellum inexpertis._]
[269] _i.e._, Gawin: the Herald went out before.
[270] It had been originally printed _Second_, but
corrected by pasting _First_ over it.
[271] Old copy, _presence_.
[272] _i.e._, _Reach’d_ or _gave_ the reins to will.
[273] The word _subjection_ in this place has been
pasted over “allegiance.”
[274] [Old copy, _promise_.]
[275] “Illi mors gravis incubat,
Qui notus nimis omnibus,
Ignotus moritur sibi.”
--_Sen. Thyestes_, act ii. Chor.
[276] In the original misprinted _ceeepe_.
[277] _Overhippes_ in the original.
[278] [In the Chorus to the third scene, the word
_foulter_ is used in the undoubted sense of falter--
“They fall and foulter like the mellow fruit.”
But see Nares, edit. 1859, _v. fouldring_.]
[279] [Old copy, _mischiefes_.]
[280] _Curæ leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent._
“The grief that does not speak,
Whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.”
--_Macbeth_, act iv., sc. 3.
[281] [Old copy, _pagions_.]
[282] “In omni adversitate fortunæ infelicissimum genus
infortunii est fuisse felicem.”--Boet: _De Consol
Philos._ L. II.
Dante translates the passage thus--
“Nessun maggior dolore,
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Nella miseria.”
--_Inferno_, c. v.
Fortiguerri follows him in these lines--
“E perchè rimembrare il ben perduto
Fa piu meschino lo stato presente.”
--_Ricciardetto_, c. xi., st. 81.
[283] [The writer seems to have had in his memory the
fourth eclogue of Virgil.]
[284] Printed _benthe_.
THE FIRST PART
OF
JERONIMO.
_EDITION._
_The First Part of Ieronimo. With the Warres of Portugall, and the
Life and Death of Don Andræa. Printed at London, for Thomas
Pauyer, and are to be solde at his shop, at the entrance into the
Exchange. 1605. 4to. Black letter._
[PREFACE TO THE FORMER EDITION.][285]
From Heywood’s[286] “Apology for Actors,” it appears that Thomas Kyd
was the author of the “Spanish Tragedy, or Hieronimo is Mad again.”
But whether he likewise wrote this “First Part of Jeronimo” does not
appear.
This “First Part of Jeronimo” is so scarce that many have doubted
whether it ever existed; and Mr Coxeter and the author of the
“Playhouse Dictionary” were of opinion, that what is called the
“Spanish Tragedy, or Hieronimo is Mad again,” was only the old play
altered and new-named. Ben Jonson has a passage in the induction to
“Cynthia’s Revels,” 1600, that seems to favour that opinion: “Another
swears down all that sit about him, that the old Hieronimo, as it was
first acted, was the only best and judiciously pen’d play of Europe.”
They were, however, two distinct plays, as appears from this copy of
the first part, which is printed from one in the valuable collection
of David Garrick, Esq.
From another passage in the induction to “Cynthia’s Revels,” acted in
1600, it may be conjectured, that “Jeronimo” first appeared on the
stage about the year 1588.[287] “They say (says one of the children of
the Queen’s Chapel) the ghosts of some three or four plays, _departed
a dozen years since_, have been seen walking on your stage here.”
THE FIRST PART OF JERONIMO.
[_Sound a Signet,[288] and pass over the Stage. Enter at one door
the King of Spain, Duke of Castile, Duke Medina_, LORENZO, _and_
ROGERO; _at another door_, ANDREA, HORATIO, _and_ JERONIMO.
JERONIMO _kneels down, and the King creates him Marshal of
Spain_; LORENZO _puts on his Spurs,[289] and_ ANDREA _his sword.
The King goes along with_ JERONIMO _to his House; after a long
Signet is sounded, enter all the Nobles, with covered dishes, to
the Banquet. Exeunt omnes. That done, enter all again as
before._]
SPAIN. Frolic, Jeronimo! thou art now confirmed
Marshal of Spain by all the dues
And customary rights unto thy office.
JER. My knee sings thanks unto your highness’ bounty.--
Come hither, boy Horatio; fold thy joints;
Kneel by thy father’s loins, and thank my liege,
By honouring me, thy mother, and thyself,
With this high staff of office.
HOR. O my liege,
I have a heart thrice stronger than my years,
And that shall answer gratefully for me.
Let not my youthful blush impair my valour:
If ever you have foes, or red field-scars,
I’ll empty all my veins to serve your wars;
I’ll bleed for you; and more, what speech affords,
I’ll speak in drops, when I do fail in words.
JER. Well spoke, my boy; and on thy father’s side.--
My liege, how like you Don Horatio’s spirit?
What! doth it promise fair?
SPAIN. Ay,
And no doubt his merit will purchase more.
Knight Marshal, rise, and still rise
Higher and greater in thy sovereign’s eyes.
JER. O fortunate hour! bless’d minute! happy day!
Able to ravish even my sense away!
Now I remember too--O sweet remembrance!--
This day my years strike fifty, and in Rome
They call the fifty year the year of jubilee,
The merry year, the peaceful year, [the] jocund year,
A year of joy, of pleasure and delight;
This shall be my year of jubilee, for ’tis my fifty.
Age ushers honour; ’tis no shame; confess:
Beard, thou art fifty full, not a hair less.
_Enter an_ EMBASSADOR.
SPAIN. How now? what news for[290] Spain? tribute returned?
EMB. Tribute in words, my liege, but not in coin.
SPAIN. Ha! dare he still procrastinate with Spain?
Not tribute paid! not three years paid!
’Tis not at his coin,
But his slack homage, that we most repine.
JER. My liege, if my opinion might stand firm
Within your highness’ thoughts----
SPAIN. Marshal,
Our kingdom calls thee father; therefore speak free.
Thy counsel I’ll embrace, as I do thee.
JER. I thank your highness. Then, my gracious liege,
I hold it meet, by way of embassage,
To demand his mind, and the neglect of tribute.
But, my liege,
Here must be kind words, which doth oft besiege
The ears of rough-hewn tyrants more than blows;
O, a politic speech beguiles the ears of foes.
Marry, my liege, mistake me not, I pray;
If friendly phrases, honey’d speech, bewitching accent,
Well-tuned melody, and all sweet gifts
Of nature, cannot avail or win him to it,
Then let him raise his gall up to his tongue,
And be as bitter as physicians’ drugs,
Stretch his mouth wider with big swoll’n phrases.
O, here’s a lad of mettle, stout Don Andrea,
Mettle to the crown,
Would shake the king’s high court three handfuls down.
SPAIN. And well picked out, Knight Marshal; speech well-strung;
I’d rather choose Horatio, were he not so young.
HOR. I humbly thank your highness,
In placing me next unto his royal bosom.
SPAIN. How stand ye, lords, to this election?
OMNES. Right pleasing, our dread sovereign.
MED. Only, with pardon, mighty sovereign----
CAST. I should have chosen Don Lorenzo.
MED. I, Don Rogero.
ROG. O no; not me, my lords,
I am war’s champion, and my fees are swords.
Pray, king, pray, peers, let it be Don Andrea;
He is a worthy limb,
Loves wars and soldiers; therefore I love him.
JER. And I love him and thee, valiant Rogero.
Noble spirits, gallant bloods;
You are no wise, insinuating lords,
You ha’ no tricks, you ha’ none of all their sleights.
LOR. So, so, Andrea must be sent embassador;
Lorenzo is not thought upon: good!
I’ll wake the court, or startle out some blood.
SPAIN. How stand you, lords, to this election?
OMNES. Right pleasing, our dread sovereign.
SPAIN. Then, Don Andrea----
AND. My approved liege.
SPAIN. We make thee our lord high embassador.
AND. Your highness circles me with honour’s bounds;
I shall discharge the weight of your command
With best respect: if friendly-tempered phrase
Cannot affect the virtue of your charge,
I will be hard like thunder, and as rough
As northern tempests, or the vexed bowels
Of too insulting waves, who at one blow
Five merchants’ wealths into the deep doth throw.
I’ll threaten crimson wars----
ROG. Aye, aye, that’s good;
Let them keep coin, pay tribute with their blood.
SPAIN. Farewell, then, Don Andrea; to thy charge.
Lords, let us in; joy shall be now our guest:
Let’s in to celebrate our second feast.
[_Exeunt omnes, manet_ LORENZO _solus._
LOR. Andrea’s gone embassador;
Lorenzo is not dreamt on in this age.
Hard fate,
When villains sit not in the highest state!
Ambition’s plumes, that flourished in our court,
Severe authority has dashed with justice;
And policy and pride walk like two exiles,
Giving attendance, that were once attended;
And we rejected, that were once high-honoured.
I hate Andrea; ’cause he aims at honour,
When my purest thoughts work in a pitchy vale,
Which are as different as heaven and hell.
One peers for day, the other gapes for night.
That yawning beldam, with her jetty skin--
’Tis she I hug as mine effeminate bride,
For such complexions best appease my pride.
I have a lad in pickle of this stamp,
A melancholy, discontented courtier,
Whose famished jaws look like the chap of death;
Upon whose eyebrows hangs damnation;
Whose hands are washed in rape and murders bold:
Him with a golden bait will I allure
(For courtiers will do anything for gold),
To be Andrea’s death at his return.
He loves my sister, that shall cost his life;
So she a husband, he shall lose a wife.
O sweet, sweet policy, I hug thee! good;
Andrea’s Hymen’s-draught shall be in blood.
[_Exit._
_Enter_ HORATIO _at one door_, ANDREA _at another._
HOR. Whither in such haste, my second self?
AND. I’faith, my dear bosom, to take solemn leave
Of a most weeping creature.
HOR. That’s a woman.
_Enter_ BELL’-IMPERIA.
AND. That’s Bell’-Imperia.
HOR. See, see, she meets you here:
And what is it to love, and be lov’d dear!
BEL. I have heard of your honour, gentle breast,
I do not like it now so well, methinks.
AND. What! not to have honour bestowed on me?
BEL. O, yes; but not a wandering honour, dear;
I could afford well, diddest thou stay here.
Could honour melt itself into thy veins,
And thou the fountain, I could wish it so,
If thou wouldst remain here with me, and not go.
AND. ’Tis but to Portugal.
HOR. But to demand the tribute, lady.
BEL. Tribute! alas, that Spain cannot of peace
Forbear a little coin, the Indies being so near.
And yet this is not all: I know you are too hot,
Too full of spleen for an embassador,
And will lean much to honour.
AND. Pish![291]
BEL. Nay, hear me, dear! I know you will be rough
And violent; and Portugal hath a tempestuous son,
Stamp’d with the mark of fury, and you too.
AND. Sweet Bell’-Imperia!
BEL. You’ll[292] meet like thunder, each imperious
Over other’s spleen; you have both proud spirits,
And both will strive to aspire. When
Two vexed clouds justle, they strike out fire:
And you, I fear me, war, which peace forefend.
O dear Andrea, pray, let’s have no wars!
First let them pay the soldiers that were maimed
In the last battle, ere more wretches fall,
Or walk on stilts to timeless funeral.
AND. Respective dear! O my life’s happiness!
The joy of all my being! do not shape
Frightful conceit beyond the intent of act!
I know thy love is vigilant o’er my blood,
And fears ill-fate which heaven hath yet withstood.
But be of comfort; sweet Horatio knows
I go to knit friends, not to kindle foes.
HOR. True, madam Bell’-Imperia, that’s his task:
The phrase he useth must be gently styled,
The king hath warned him to be smooth and mild.
BEL. But will you, indeed, Andrea?
AND. By this.
BEL. By this lip-blushing kiss.
HOR. O, you swear sweetly.
BEL. I’ll keep your oath for you, till you return,
Then I’ll be sure you shall not be forsworn.
_Enter_ PEDRINGANO.
AND. Ho, Pedringano!
PED. Signior?
AND. Are all things aboard?
PED. They are, my good lord.
AND. Then. Bell’-Imperia, I take leave; Horatio
Be, in my absence, my dear self, chaste self.--
What! playing the woman, Bell’-Imperia?
Nay, then you love me not; or, at the least,
You drown my honours in those flowing waters.
Believe it, Bell’-Imperia, ’tis as common
To weep at parting, as to be a woman.
Love me more valiant; play not this moist prize;
Be woman in all parts save in thy eyes.
And so I leave thee.
BEL. Farewell, my lord:
Be mindful of my love and of your word.
AND. ’Tis fixed upon my heart; adieu, soul’s friend!
HOR. All honour on Andrea’s steps attend.
BEL. Yet he is in sight, and yet but now he’s vanished.
[_Exit_ ANDREA.
HOR. Nay, lady, if you stoop so much to passion,
I’ll call him back again.
BEL. O good Horatio, no; it is for honour.
Pr’y-thee, let him go.
HOR. Then, madam, be composed, as you were wont,
To music and delight; the time being comic, will
Seem short and pleasant, till his return
From Portugal. And, madam, in this circle
Let your heart move;
Honoured promotion is the sap of love.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter_ LORENZO _and_ LAZAROTTO, _a discontented Courtier._
LOR. Come, my soul’s spaniel, my life’s jetty substance,
What’s thy name?
LAZ. My name ’s an honest name, a courtier’s name:
’Tis Lazarotto.
LOR. What, Lazarotto!
LAZ. Or rather rotting in this lazy age
That yields me no employments: I have mischief
Within my breast, more than my bulk[293] can hold:
I want a midwife to deliver it.
LOR. I’ll be the he-one then, and rid thee soon
Of this dull, leaden, and tormenting elf.
Thou know’st the love betwixt
Bell’-Imperia and Andrea’s bosom?
LAZ. Aye, I do.
LOR. How might I cross it, my sweet mischief?
Honey-damnation, how?
LAZ. Well:
As many ways as there are paths to hell,
And that’s enou’, i’ faith. From usurer’s door--
There goes one path: from friars that nurse whores--
There goes another path: from brokers’ stalls,
From rich that die and build no hospitals--
Two other paths: from farmers that crack barns
With stuffing corn, yet starve the needy swarms--
Another path: from drinking-schools one--
From dicing-houses--but from the court, none, none.
LOR. Here is a slave just of the stamp I wish;
Whose ink-soul’s blacker than his name,
Though it stand printed with a raven’s quill. [_Aside._
But, Lazarotto, cross my sister’s love,
And I’ll rain showers of ducats in thy palm.
LAZ. O duckets, dainty ducks; forgive me, duckets,
I’ll fetch you duck enough for gold; and chink
Makes the punk wanton and the bawd to wink.
LOR. Discharge, discharge, good Lazarotto,
How we may cross my sister’s loving hopes.
LAZ. Nay, now I’ll tell you.
LOR. Thou knowest Andrea’s gone embassador.
LAZ. The better; there is opportunity:
Now list to me.
_Enter_ JERONIMO _and_ HORATIO, _and overhear their talk._
Alcario, the Duke Medina’s son,
Doats on your sister Bell’-Imperia:
Him in her private gallery you shall place
To court her; let his protestations be
Fashioned with rich jewels,[294] for in love
Great gifts and gold have the best tongue to move.
Let him not spare an oath without a jewel
To bind it fast: O, I know women’s hearts,
What stuff they are made of, my lord: gifts and giving
Will melt the chastest-seeming female living.
LOR. Indeed Andrea is but poor, though honourable;
His bounty among soldiers soaks him dry,
And their o’er-great gifts may bewitch her eye.
JER. Here’s no fine villainy, no damned brother! [_Aside._
LOR. But say she should deny his gifts, be all
Composed of hate, as my mind gives me that
She will: what then?
LAZ. Then thus: at his return
To Spain, I’ll murder Don Andrea.
LOR. Dar’st thou, spirit?
LAZ. What dares not he do, that ne’er hopes t’inherit?
HOR. He dares be damn’d like thee. [_Aside._
LAZ. Dare I? Ha, ha!
I have no hope of everlasting height,
My soul’s a Moor, you know, salvation’s white.
What dare I not enact then? Tush, he dies;
I will make way to Bell’-Imperia’s eyes.
LOR. To weep, I fear, but not to tender love.
LAZ. Why, is she not a woman? she must weep
Awhile, as widows use, till their first sleep;
Who in the morrow following will be sold
To new, before the first are throughly cold.
So Bell’-Imperia; for this is common;
The more she weeps, the more she plays the woman.
LOR. Come then, howe’er it hap, Andrea shall be cross’d.
LAZ. Let me alone, I’ll turn him to a ghost.
[_Exeunt_ LORENZO _and_ LAZAROTTO.
_Manent_ JERONIMO _and_ HORATIO.[295]
JER. Farewell, true brace of villains;
Come hither, boy Horatio, didst thou hear them?
HOR. O my true-breasted father, my ears
Have suck’d in poison, deadly poison:
Murder Andrea! O inhuman practice!
Had not your reverend years been present here,
I should have poniarded the villain’s bowels,
And shoved his soul out to damnation.
Murder Andrea! honest lord! impious villains!
JER. I like thy true heart, boy; thou lov’st thy friend:
It is the greatest argument and sign,
That I begot thee, for it shows thou ’rt mine.
HOR. O father, ’tis a charitable deed
To prevent those that would make virtue bleed!
I’ll despatch letters to Don Andrea;
Unfold their hellish practice, damn’d intent,
Against the virtuous rivers of his life.
Murder Andrea!
_Enter_ ISABELLA.
JER. Peace: who comes here? news, news, Isabella.
ISA. What news, Jeronimo?
JER. Strange news:
Lorenzo is become an honest man.
ISA. Is this your wondrous news?
JER. Is it not wondrous
To have honesty in hell? go, tell it abroad now;
But see you put no new additions to it,
As thus--shall I tell you, gossip? Lorenzo is
Become an honest man:--beware, beware; for honesty,
Spoken in derision, points out knavery.
O, then, take heed; that jest would not be trim,
He’s a great man, therefore we must not knave him.
In, gentle soul; I’ll not be long away,
As short my body, short shall be my stay.[296]
[_Exit_ ISABELLA.
HOR. Murder Andrea! what blood-sucking slave
Could choke bright honour in a scabbard grave!
JER. What, harping still upon Andrea’s death?
Have courage, boy: I shall prevent their plots,
And make them both stand like two politic sots.
HOR. Lorenzo has a reach as far as hell
To hook the devil from his flaming cell:
O sprightly father, he’ll outreach you then;
Knaves longer reaches have than honest men.
JER. But, boy, fear not, I will outstretch them all,
My mind’s a giant, though my bulk be small.[297]
[_Exeunt._
_Enter the_ KING OF PORTUGAL, BALTHEZAR, ALEXANDRO, DON VOLLUPO,
_and others: a Peal of Ordnance; within, a great shout of People._
KING. What is the meaning of this loud report?
ALEX. An embassy, my lord, is new arrived from Spain.
KING. Son Balthezar, we pray, do you go meet him,
And do him all the honour that belongs him.
BAL. Father, my best endeavour shall obey you:
Welcome, worthy lord, Spain’s choice embassador,
Brave, stout Andrea; for so I guess thee.
_Enter_ ANDREA.
AND. Portugal’s heir, I thank thee,
Thou seems no less than what thou art, a prince
And an heroic spirit: Portugal’s king,
I kiss my hand, and tender on thy throne
My master’s love, peace and affection.