The Spanish Tragedy,
Containing the lamentable Murders of Horatio and Bellimperia:
With the pittiful Death of old Hieronimo.
To the tune of Queene Dido.
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YOu that have lost your former joyes,
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And now in woe your lives doe leade:Feeding on nought but dire annoyes,
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Thinking your griefes all griefes exceede.
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Assure your selves it is not so:
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Loe here a sight of greater woe.
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Haplesse Hieromino was my name,
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On whom fond fortune smiled long:
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But now her flattering smiles [I] blame,
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Her flattering smiles hath done me wrong.
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Would I had dy[e]d in tender yeares:
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Then had not beene this cause of teares.
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I Marshall was in prime of yeares,
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And wonne great honour in the fielde:Untill that age with silvered haires,
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My aged head had overspred
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Then left I warre and stayde at home:
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And gave my honour to my sonne.
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Horatio my sweet onely childe,
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Prickt foorth by fames aspiring wings:Did so behave him in the fielde,
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That he Prince Baltazer Captive brings.
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And with great honour did present:
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Him to the King Incontinent.
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The Duke of Castyles Daughter then.
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Desird Horatio to relate:The death of her beloved friend,
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Her love Andreas woofull fate.
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But when she knew who had him slaine:
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Shee vowd she would revenge the same.
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Then more to vexe Prince Baltazer,
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Because he slewe her chiefest friend:She chose my sonne for her chiefe flower,
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Thereby meaning to worke revenge.
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But marke what then did straight befall: To turne my sweete to bitter gall.
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Lorenzo then to finde the cause,
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Why that his sister was unkinde:At last he found within a pause,
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How he might sounde her secret minde.
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Which for to bring well to effect:
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To fetch her man he doth direct.
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Who being come into his sight,
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H[e] threatneth for to rid his life:Except straight wayes he should recite,
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His sisters love, the cause of strife.
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Compelld therefore to unfold his mind:
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Sayd with Horatio shees combinde.
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The Villaine then for hope of gaine,
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Did straight convaye them to the place:Where these too lovers did remaine,
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Joying in sight of others face.
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And to their foes they did impart: The place where they should joy their heart.
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Prince Baltazer with his compeeres,
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Enters my bower all in the night,
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And there my sonne slayne they upreare,
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The more to worke my greater spight.
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But as I laye and toke repose,
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A voyce I hard, whereat I rose.
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And finding then his senslesse forme
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The murtherers I sought to finde,
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But missing them I stood forlorne,
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As one amased in his minde.
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And rent and puld my silvered haire,
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And cursd and bannd each thing was there.
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And that I would revenge the same,
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I dipt a napkin in his blood:Swearing to worke their woefull baine,
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That so had spoyld my cheifest good.
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And that I would not it forget:
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It allwayes at my hart I kept.
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The second part To the same tune.
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THen Isabella my deare wyfe,
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Finding her sonne bereavd of breath,
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And loving him dearer then life
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Her owne hand straight doth worke her death.
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And now their deaths doth meet in one:
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My griefes are come, my Joyes are gone.
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Then frantickly I ran about,
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Filling the ayre with mournefull groanes,
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Because I had not yet found out
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The murtherers to ease my mones.
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I rent and tore each thing I got,
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And sayd, and did, I knew not what.
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Thus as I past the streets, hard by
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The Duke of Castiles house as then
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A Letter there I did espy,
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Which showd Horatios wofull end.
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Which Bellimperia foorth had flung,
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From prison where they kept her strong.
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Then to the Court forthwith I went,
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And of the King did Justice crave,
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But by Lorenzos bad intent,
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I hindred was, which made me rave.
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Then vexed more I stampd and frownd,
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And with my ponyard ript the ground.
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But false Lorenzo put mee out,
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And tolde the King then by and by,
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That frantickly I ran about,
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And of my sonne did alwayes cry,
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And sayd twere good I should resigne:
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My Marshall-ship which grievd my mind.
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The Duke of Castyle hearing then,
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How I did grudge still at his sonne,
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Did send for me to make us friends:To stay the rumour then begune.
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Whereto I straight way gave consent: Although in heart I never meant.
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Sweete Bellimperia comes to me,
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Thinking my sonne I had forgot,
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To see me with his foes agree,
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The which I never meant God wot: But when wee knew each others mind,
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To worke revenge a meane I find.
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Then Bloody Baltazar enters in
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Entreating me to show some sport,
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Unto his Father and the King:That to his nuptiall did resort.
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Which gladly I prepard to show.
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Because I knew twould worke their woe.
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And from the Chronicles of Spaine,
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I did record Erastus life,
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And how the Turke had him so slayne:
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And straight revenge wrought by his wife.
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Then for to act this Tragedy:
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I gave their parts Immediately,
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Sweete Bellimperia Baltazar killes,
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Because he slew her dearest friend,
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And I Lorenzos blood did spill,
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And eke his soule to hell did send.
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Then dyed my foes by dint of knife,
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But Bellimperia ends her life.
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Then for to specifie my wronges,
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With weeping eyes and mournefull hart,
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I shewd my sonne with bloody wounds,
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And eke the murtherers did impart.
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And sayd my sonne was as deare to me:
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as thine, or thine, though Kinges you be.
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But when they did behold this thing.
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How I had slayne their onely sonnes:The Duke, the Viceroy, and the King,
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Uppon me all they straight did run.
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To torture me they doe prepare,
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Unlesse I should it straight declare.
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But that I would not tell it then,
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Even with my teeth I bit my tongue,
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And in despite did give it them,
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That me with torments sought to wrong:
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Thus when in age I sought to rest,
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Nothing but sorrowes me opprest.
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They knowing well that I could write,
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Unto my hand a pen did reach,
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Meaning thereby I should recite,
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The authors of this bloody forch.
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Then fained I my pen was naught
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And by strange signes a knife I sought.
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But when to me they gave the knife.
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I killd the Duke then standing by,
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And eke my selfe bereavd of life,
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For I to see my sonne did hye.
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The Kinges that scornd my griefes before,
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With nought can they theire Joyes restore.
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Here have you heard my Tragicke tale.
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Which on Horatios death depends,
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Whose death I could anew bewayle:But that in it the murtherers ends,
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For murther god will bring to light: Though long it be hid from mans sight.
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