Sunday, July 23, 2006

The Spanish Tragedy

 

Packed with melodrama and violence, revenge tragedies were very popular in England in the late 16th century and early 17th century. One of the earliest and best of these plays was The Spanish Tragedy (c. 1580) by English dramatist Thomas Kyd. In Kyd’s play, civil servant Hieronimo seeks to avenge the murder of his son, Horatio. The chief villain is Lorenzo, nephew to the king of Spain. Lorenzo has aligned himself with the Portuguese prince Balthazar, who covets Lorenzo’s sister Bel-imperia. Lorenzo and Balthazar discover that Bel-imperia favours Horatio and have him killed. In these scenes from the third act Hieronomo learns who murdered his son, and Lorenzo tries to cover his trail.

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The Spanish Tragedy

Act 3 Scene ii

Enter Hieronimo

HIERONIMO. O eyes, no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears;
O life, no life, but lively form of death;
O world, no world, but mass of public wrongs,
Confused and filled with murder and misdeeds;
O sacred heavens! If this unhallowed deed,
If this inhuman and barbarous attempt,
If this incomparable murder thus
Of mine, but now no more my son,
Shall unrevealed and unrevengèd pass,
How should we term your dealings to be just,
If you unjustly deal with those that in your justice trust?
The night, sad secretary to my moans,
With direful visions wake my vexèd soul,
And with the wounds of my distressful son
Solicit me for notice of his death.
The ugly fiends do sally forth of hell,
And frame my steps to unfrequented paths,
And fear my heart with fierce inflamèd thoughts.
The cloudy day my discontents records,
Early begins to register my dreams
And drive me forth to seek the murderer.
Eyes, life, world, heavens, hell, night, and day,
See, search, show, send some man, some mean, that may—

A letter falleth

What's here? A letter? Tush, it is not so!—
A letter written to Hieronimo!

Red ink

[Reads] 'For want of ink, receive this bloody writ.
Me hath my hapless brother hid from thee;
Revenge thyself on Balthazar and him:
For these were they that murderèd thy son.
Hieronimo, revenge Horatio's death,
And better fare than Bel-imperia doth.'
What means this unexpected miracle?
My son slain by Lorenzo and the prince!
What cause had they Horatio to malign?
Or what might move thee, Bel-imperia,
To accuse thy brother had he been the mean?
Hieronimo, beware; thou art betrayed,
And to entrap thy life this train is laid.
Advise thee therefore; be not credulous.
This is devisèd to endanger thee,
That thou, by this, Lorenzo shouldst accuse:
And he, for thy dishonour done, should draw
Thy life in question and thy name in hate.
Dear was the life of my belovèd son,
And of his death behoves me be revenged;
Then hazard not thine own, Hieronimo,
But live t'effect thy resolution.
I therefore will by circumstances try
What I can gather to confirm this writ;
And, heark'ning near the Duke of Castile's house,
Close, if I can, with Bel-imperia,
To listen more, but nothing to bewray.

Enter Pedringano

Now, Pedringano!


PEDRIGANO. Now, Hieronimo!

HIERONIMO. Where's thy lady?

PEDRINGANO. I know not; here's my lord.

Enter Lorenzo


LORENZO. How now, who's this? Hieronimo?

HIERONIMO. My lord.

PEDRINGANO. He asketh for my Lady Bel-imperia.

LORENZO. What to do, Hieronimo? The duke my father hath
Upon some disgrace awhile removed her hence;
But if it be aught I may inform her of,
Tell me, Hieronimo, and I'll let her know it.


HIERONIMO. Nay, nay, my lord, I thank you, it shall not need.
I had a suit unto her, but too late,
And her disgrace makes me unfortunate.


LORENZO. Why so, Hieronimo? Use me.

HIERONIMO. O no, my lord, I dare not; it must not be.
I humbly thank your lordship.


LORENZO. Why then, farewell.

HIERONIMO [aside].
My grief no heart, my thoughts no tongue can tell.

Exit [Hieronimo]


LORENZO. Come hither, Pedringano, seest thou this?

PEDRINGANO. My lord, I see it and suspect it too.

LORENZO. This is that damnèd villain Serberine
That hath, I fear, revealed Horatio's death.


PEDRINGANO. My lord, he could not, 'twas so lately done;
And since, he hath not left my company.


LORENZO. Admit he have not, his condition's such
As fear or flattering words may make him false.
I know his humour, and therewith repent
That e'er I used him in this enterprise.
But, Pedringano, to prevent the worst,
And 'cause I know thee secret as my soul,
Here, for thy further satisfaction, take thou this

Gives Pedringano more gold

And hearken to me; thus it is devised:
This night thou must (and prithee, so resolve)
Meet Serberine at Saint Luigi's Park—
Thou knowest 'tis here hard by behind the house—
There take thy stand, and see thou strike him sure,
For die he must, if we do mean to live.


PEDRINGANO. But how shall Serberine be there, my lord?

LORENZO. Let me alone, I'll send to him to meet
The prince and me, where thou must do this deed.


PEDRINGANO. It shall be done, my lord, it shall be done;
And I'll go arm myself to meet him there.


LORENZO. When things shall alter, as I hope they will,
Then shalt thou mount for this. Thou knowest my mind.

Exit Pedringano

Che le Ieron!

Enter Page


PAGE. My lord?

LORENZO. Go, sirrah, to Serberine,
And bid him forthwith meet the prince and me
At Saint Luigi's Park, behind the house,
This evening, boy.


PAGE. I go, my lord.

LORENZO. But sirrah, let the hour be eight o'clock.
Bid him not fail.


PAGE. I fly, my lord.

Exit [Page]


LORENZO. Now to confirm the complot thou hast cast
Of all these practices, I'll spread the watch,
Upon precise commandment from the king,
Strongly to guard the place where Pedringano
This night shall murder hapless Serberine.
Thus must we work that will avoid distrust;
Thus must we practice to prevent mishap,
And thus one ill another must expulse.
This sly enquiry of Hieronimo
For Bel-imperia breeds suspicion,
And this suspicion bodes a further ill.
As for myself, I know my secret fault,
And so do they; but I have dealt for them.
They that for coin their souls endangerèd,
To save my life, for coin shall venture theirs;
And better it's that base companions die
Than by their life to hazard our good haps.
Nor shall they live for me to fear their faith:
I'll trust myself, myself shall be my friend;
For die they shall—
Slaves are ordainèd to no other end.

Exit


Act 3 Scene iii

Enter Pedringano with a pistol

PEDRINGANO. Now, Pedringano, bid thy pistol hold,
And hold on, Fortune! once more favour me;
Give but success to mine attempting spirit,
And let me shift for taking of mine aim.
Here is the gold: this is the gold proposed;
It is no dream that I adventure for,
But Pedringano is possessed thereof.
And he that would not strain his conscience
For him that thus his liberal purse hath stretched,
Unworthy such a favour, may he fail,
And wishing, want, when such as I prevail.
As for the fear of apprehension,
I know, if need should be, my noble lord
Will stand between me and ensuing harms.
Besides, this place is free from all suspect.
Here, therefore, will I stay and take my stand.

Enter the Watch


FIRST WATCH. I wonder much to what intent it is
That we are thus expressly charged to watch.


SECOND WATCH. 'Tis by commandment in the king's own name.

THIRD WATCH. But we were never wont to watch and ward
So near the duke his brother's house before.


SECOND WATCH. Content yourself; stand close; there's somewhat in't.

[The Watch conceal themselves.] Enter Serberine


SERBERINE. Here, Serberine, attend and stay thy pace;
For here did Don Lorenzo's page appoint
That thou by his command shouldst meet with him.
How fit a place, if one were so disposed,
Methinks this corner is to close with one.


PEDRINGANO. Here comes the bird that I must seize upon.
Now, Pedringano, or never, play the man!


SERBERINE. I wonder that his lordship stays so long,
Or wherefore should he send for me so late?


PEDRINGANO. For this, Serberine! And thou shalt ha't.

[Pedringano] shoots the dag [at Serberine, who falls]

So, there he lies; my promise is performed.


FIRST WATCH. Hark, gentlemen, this is a pistol shot!

SECOND WATCH. And here's one slain; stay the murderer!

PEDRINGANO. Now by the sorrows of the souls in hell,
Who first lays hand on me, I'll be his priest.

[Pedringano] strives with the Watch, [who subdue him]


THIRD WATCH. Sirrah, confess, and therein play the priest:
Why hast thou thus unkindly kilLed the man?


PEDRINGANO. Why? Because he walked abroad so late.

THIRD WATCH. Come, sir, you had been better kept your bed
Than have committed this misdeed so late.


SECOND WATCH. Come, to the marshal's with the murderer!

FIRST WATCH. On to Hieronimo's! Help me here
To bring the murdered body with us too.


PEDRINGANO. Hieronimo? Carry me before whom you will.
Whate'er he be, I'll answer him and you.
And do your worst, for I defy you all.

Exeunt


Act 3 Scene iv

Enter Lorenzo and Balthazar

BALTHAZAR. How now, my lord, what makes you rise so soon?


LORENZO. Fear of preventing our mishaps too late.

BALTHAZAR. What mischief is it that we not mistrust?

LORENZO. Our greatest ills we least mistrust, my lord,
And inexpected harms do hurt us most.


BALTHAZAR. Why, tell me, Don Lorenzo, tell me, man,
If aught concerns our honour and your own.


LORENZO. Nor you nor me, my lord, but both in one;
For I suspect—and the presumption's great—
That by those base confederates in our fault,
Touching the death of Don Horatio,
We are betrayed to old Hieronimo.


BALTHAZAR. Betrayed, Lorenzo? Tush, it cannot be.

LORENZO. A guilty conscience, urgèd with the thought
Of former evils, easily cannot err.
I am persuaded—and dissuade me not—
That all's revealèd to Hieronimo.
And therefore know that I have cast it thus—

[Enter Page]

But here's the page. How now? What news with thee?


PAGE. My lord, Serberine is slain.

BALTHAZAR Who? Serberine, my man?

PAGE. Your highness' man, my lord.

LORENZO. Speak, page, who murdered him?

PAGE. He that is apprehended for the fact.

LORENZO. Who?

PAGE. Pedringano.

BALTHAZAR. Is Serberine slain, that loved his lord so well?
Injurious villain, murderer of his friend!


LORENZO. Hath Pedringano murdered Serberine?
My lord, let me entreat you to take the pains
To exasperate and hasten his revenge
With your complaints unto my lord the king.
This their dissension breeds a greater doubt.


BALTHAZAR. Assure thee, Don Lorenzo, he shall die,
Or else his highness hardly shall deny.
Meanwhile I'll haste the marshal-sessions,
For die he shall for this his damnèd deed.

Exit Balthazar


LORENZO. Why so, this fits our former policy,
And thus experience bids the wise to deal.
I lay the plot, he prosecutes the point.
I set the trap, he breaks the worthless twigs
And sees not that wherewith the bird was limed.
Thus hopeful men that mean to hold their own
Must look like fowlers to their dearest friends.
He runs to kill whom I have holp to catch,
And no man knows it was my reaching fatch.
'Tis hard to trust unto a multitude,
Or any one, in mine opinion,
When men themselves their secrets will reveal.

Enter a Messenger with a letter

Boy!


PAGE. My lord.

LORENZO. What's he?

MESSENGER. I have a letter to your lordship.

LORENZO. From whence?

MESSENGER. From Pedringano that's imprisonèd.

LORENZO. So he is in prison then?

MESSENGER. Aye, my good lord.

LORENZO. What would he with us? He writes us here,
To stand good lord, and help him in distress.
Tell him I have his letters, know his mind;
And what we may, let him assure him of.
Fellow, begone; my boy shall follow thee.

Exit Messenger

This works like wax; yet once more try thy wits.
Boy, go convey this purse to Pedringano;
Thou knowest the prison; closely give it him,
And be advised that none be thereabout.
Bid him be merry still, but secret;
And though the marshal-sessions be today,
Bid him not doubt of his delivery.
Tell him his pardon is already signed
And thereon bid him boldly be resolved;
For, were he ready to be turnèd off—
As 'tis my will the uttermost be tried—
Thou with his pardon shalt attend him still.
Show him this box; tell him his pardon's in't.
But open't not, an if thou lovest thy life;
But let him wisely keep his hopes unknown:
He shall not want while Don Lorenzo lives.
Away!


PAGE. I go, my lord, I run.

LORENZO. But, sirrah, see that this be cleanly done.

Exit Page

Now stands our fortune on a tickle point,
And now or never ends Lorenzo's doubts.
One only thing is uneffected yet,
And that's to see the executioner.
But to what end? I list not trust the air
With utterance of our pretence therein,
For fear the privy whisp'ring of the wind
Convey our words amongst unfriendly ears,
That lie too open to advantages.
E quel che voglio io, nessun lo sa,
Intendo io: quel mi basterá.
[And what I want, no one knows;
I understand, that is enough for me.]

Exit
 
This excerpt of The Spanish Tragedy posted in the moron's world blog is derived from Four Revenge Tragedies, oup.com.
 
 

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