The Spanish Tragedy
Attributed to Thomas Kyd

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Ghost of Andrea
Revenge
King of Spain
Don Cyprian, Duke of Castile, his brother
Lorenzo, the Duke’s son
Bel-imperia, Lorenzo’s sister
Pedringano, Bel-imperia’s servant
Lorenzo’s Page
Viceroy of Portugal
Don Pedro, his brother
Balthazar, the Viceroy’s son
Serberine, Balthazar’s servant
Hieronimo, Marshal of Spain
Isabella, his wife
Horatio, their son
Isabella’s maid
Spanish General
Deputy
Portuguese Ambassador
Portuguese Noblemen
Alexandro
Viluppo
Bazulto, an old man
Christophil, Bel-imperia’s Janitor
Hangman
Messenger
Three Watchmen
Two Portuguese
In Hieronimo’s Play:
Soliman, Sultan of Turkey (by Balthazar)
Erastus, Knight of Rhodes (by Lorenzo)
The Bashaw (by Hieronimo)
Perseda (by Bel-imperia)
In First Dumb Show:
Three Kings
Three Knights
In Second Dumb Show
Hymen
Two Torch Bearers
In the Additions to the Play:
Bazardo, a painter
Hieronimo’s servants: Pedro, Jacques
Army, Royal Suites, Nobles, Officers,
Halberdiers, Servants &c.

Scene: Spain and Portugal

CONTENTS
The Spanish Tragedy
Appendix I
Glossary
Vocabulary
Proper Names
Place Names
Stage Directions
Translations
Sources
Length
Imagery, Dramatic Technique
Religious Content
Suggested Reading
Appendix II: Connections
Appendix III:Vocabulary, Word Formation

ACTUS PRIMUS

Scene I.1: Induction
[Enter the Ghost of Andrea, and with him Revenge.]

GHOST: When this eternal substance of my soul
Did live imprisoned in my wanton flesh,
Each in their function serving other’s need,
I was a Courtier in the Spanish Court.
My name was Don Andrea; my descent,
Though not ignoble, yet inferior far
To gracious fortunes of my tender youth:
For there in prime and pride of all my years,
By duteous service and deserving love,
In secret I possessed a worthy dame, … [I.1.10]
Which hight sweet Bel-imperia by name.
But in the harvest of my summer’ joys,
Death’s winter nipped the blossoms of my bliss,
Forcing divorce betwixt my love and me.
For in the late conflict with Portingale
My valor drew me into danger’s mouth,
Til life to death made passage through my wounds.
When I was slain, my soul descended straight
To pass the flowing stream of Acheron;
But churlish Charon, only boatman there, … [I.1.20]
Said that, my rites of burial not performed,
I might not sit amongst his passengers.
Ere Sol had slept three nights in Thetis’ lap,
And slaked his smoking chariot in her flood,
By Don Horatio, our Knight-Marshal’s son,
My funerals and obsequies were done.
Then was the ferry-man of Hell content
To pass me over to the slimy strond
That leads to fell Avernus‘ ugly waves.
There, pleasing Cerberus with honeyed speech, … [I.1.30]
I passed the perils of the foremost porch.
Not far from hence, amidst ten thousand souls,
Sat Minos, Aeacus, and Rhadamanth,
To whom no sooner ‘gan I make approach,
To crave a passport for my wandering ghost,
But Minos, in graven leaves of Lottery,
Drew forth the manner of my life and death.
‘This knight,’ quoth he, ‘both lived and died in love,
And for his love tried fortune of the wars,
And by war’s fortune lost both love and life.’ … [I.1.40]
‘Why then,’ said Aecus, ‘convey him hence,
To walk with lovers in our fields of love,
And spend the course of everlasting time
Under green myrtle trees and cypress shades.’
‘No, no,’ said Rhadamanth, ‘it were not well
With loving souls to place a martialist.
He died in war and must to Martial fields,
Where wounded Hector lives in lasting pain
And Achilles’ Myrmidons do scour the plain.’
Then Minos, mildest censor of the three, … [I.1.50]
Made this device to end the difference:
‘Send him,’ quoth he,’ ‘to our infernal King,
To doom him as best seems his Majesty.’
To this effect my passport straight was drawn.
In keeping on my way to Pluto’s Court,
Through dreadful shades of ever-glooming night,
I saw more sights than thousand tongues can tell,
Or pens can write, or mortal hearts can think.
Three ways there were: that on the right-hand side
Was ready way unto the ‘foresaid fields, … [I.1.60]
Where lovers live and bloody Martialists;
But either sort contained within his bounds.
The left-hand path, declining fearfully,
Was ready downfall to the deepest hell,
Where bloody furies shakes their whips of steel,
And poor Ixion turns an endless wheel;
Where usurers are choked with melting gold
And wantons are embraced with ugly Snakes,
And murderers groan with never-killing wounds,
And perjured wights scalded in boiling lead, … [I.1.70]
And all foul sins with torments overwhelmed.
‘Twixt these two ways I trod the middle path,
Which brought me to the fair Elysian green,
In midst whereof there stands a stately tower,
The walls of brass, the gates of adamant.
Here finding Pluto with his Proserpine,
I showed my passport humbled on my knee;
Whereat fair Proserpine began to smile,
And begged that only she might give my doom.
Pluto was pleased, and sealed it with a kiss. … [I.1.80]
Forthwith, Revenge, she rounded thee in th’ ear,
And bade thee lead me through the gates of Horn,
Where dreams have passage in the silent night.
No sooner had she spoke but we were here,
(I wot not how) in twinkling of an eye.

REVENGE: Then know, Andrea, that thou art arrived
Where thou shalt see the author of thy death,
Don Balthazar, the Prince of Portingale,
Deprived of life by Bel-imperia.
Here sit we down to see the mystery, … [I.1.90]
And serve for Chorus in this Tragedy.

Scene I.2: The Court of Spain
[Enter Spanish King, General, Castile, Hieronimo.]

KING: Now say, L[ord] General, how fares our camp?

GENERAL: All well, my Sovereign Liege, except some few
That are deceased by fortune of the war.

KING: But what portends thy cheerful countenance,
And posting to our presence thus in haste?
Speak, man, hath fortune given us victory?

GENERAL: Victory, my Liege, and that with little loss.

KING: Our Portingales will pay us tribute then?

GENERAL: Tribute and wonted homage therewithal.

KING: Then blessed be heaven and guider of the heavens. … [I.2.10]
From whose fair influence such justice flows.

CASTILE: O multum dilecte Deo, tibi militat aether,
Et conjuratae curvato poplite gentes
Succumbunt; recti soror est victoria juris.

KING: Thanks to my loving brother of Castile.
But, General, unfold in brief discourse
Your form of battle, and your war’s success,
That, adding all the pleasure of thy news
Unto the height of former happiness,
With deeper wage and greater dignity, … [I.2.20]
We may reward thy blissful chivalry.

GENERAL: Where Spain and Portingale do jointly knit
Their frontiers, leaning on each other’s bound,
There met our armies in their proud array:
Both furnished well, both full of hope and fear,
Both menacing alike with daring shows,
Both vaunting sundry colors of device,
Both cheerly sounding trumpets, drums, and fifes,
Both raising dreadful clamors to the sky,
That valleys, hills and rivers made rebound, … [I.2.30]
And heaven itself was frightened with the sound.
Our battles both were pitched in squadron form,
Each corner strongly fenced with wings of shot;
But ere we joined and came to push of Pike,
I brought a squadron of our readiest shot
From out our rear-ward, to begin the fight:
They brought another wing to encounter us.
Meanwhile, our Ordinance played on either side,
And captains strove to have their valors tried.
Don Pedro, their chief Horsemen’s Colonel, … [I.2.40]
Did with his Cornet bravely make attempt
To break the order of our battle-ranks;
But Don Rogero, worthy man of war,
Marched forth against him with our Musketiers
And stopped the malice of his fell approach.
While they maintain hot skirmish to and fro,
Both battles join and fall to handy-blows,
Their violent shot resembling th’ ocean’s rage
When, roaring loud and with a swelling tide,
It beats upon the rampiers of huge rocks … [I.2.50]
And gapes to swallow neighbor-bounding lands.
Now while Bellona rageth here and there,
Thick storms of bullets ran like winter’s hail,
And shivered Lances dark the troubled air.
Pede pes et cuspide cuspis,
Arma sonant armis, vir petiturque viro.
On every side drop Captains to the ground,
And soldiers, some ill-maimed, some slain outright.
Here falls a body sundered from his head,
There legs and arms lie bleeding on the grass, … [I.2.60]
Mingled with weapons and unbowelled steeds,
That scattering overspread the purple plain.
In all this turmoil, three long hours and more,
The victory to neither part inclined
Til Don Andrea, with his brave Lanciers,
In their main battle made so great a breach
That, half-dismayed, the multitude retired;
But Balthazar, the Portingale’s young Prince,
Brought rescue and encouraged them to stay.
Here hence the fight was eagerly renewed, … [I.2.70]
And in that conflict was Andrea slain,
Brave man-at-arms, but weak to Balthazar.
Yet while the Prince, insulting over him,
Breathed out proud vaunts, sounding to our reproach,
Friendship and hardy valor, joined in one,
Pricked forth Horatio, our Knight-Marshal’s son,
To challenge forth that Prince in single fight:
Not long between these twain the fight endured,
But straight the Prince was beaten from his horse
And forced to yield him prisoner to his foe. … [I.2.80]
When he was taken, all the rest they fled,
And our Carbines pursued them to the death
Til Phoebus, waving to the western deep,
Our Trumpeters were charged to sound retreat.

KING: Thanks, good Lord General, for these good news,
And for some argument of more to come;
Take this and wear it for thy Sovereign’s sake.
[Gives him his chain.]
But tell me now: hast thou confirmed a peace?

GENERAL: No peace, my Liege, but peace conditional,
That if with homage tribute be well paid, … [I.2.90]
The fury of your forces will be stayed;
And to this peace their Viceroy hath subscribed,
[Gives the King a paper.]
And made a solemn vow that, during life,
His tribute shall be truly paid to Spain.

KING: These words, these deeds, become thy person well.
But now, Knight-Marshal, frolic with thy King,
For tis thy son that wins this battle’s prize.

HIERONIMO: Long may he live to serve my Sovereign Liege,
And soon decay, unless he serve my Liege.

KING: Nor thou nor he shall die without reward: … [I.2.100]
[A tucket afar off.]
What means the warning of this trumpet’s sound?

GENERAL: This tells me that your grace’s men-of-war
Such as war’s fortune hath reserved from death,
Come marching on towards your royal seat,
To show themselves before your Majesty;
For so I gave in charge at my depart.
Whereby by demonstration shall appear,
That all, except three hundred or few more,
Are safe returned, and by their foes enriched.
[The Army enters, Balthazar between Lorenzo and Horatio, captive.]

KING: A gladsome sight! I long to see them here. … [I.2.110]
[They enter and pass by.]
Was that the war-like Prince of Portingale,
That by our nephew was in triumph led?

GENERAL: It was, my Liege, the Prince of Portingale.

KING: But what was he that on the other side
Held him by th’ arm, as partner of the prize?

HIERONIMO: That was my son, my gracious sovereign,
Of whom, though from his tender infancy
My loving thoughts did never hope but well,
He never pleased his father’s eyes til now,
Nor filled my heart with over-cloying joys. … [I.2.120]

KING: Go, let them march once more about these walls,
That, staying them, we may confer and talk
With our brave prisoner and his double guard.
Hieronimo, it greatly pleaseth us
That in our victory thou have a share,
By virtue of your worthy son’s exploit. [Enter again.]
Bring hither the young Prince of Portingale:
The rest march on, but ere they be dismissed,
We will bestow on every soldier
Two ducats and on every leader ten, … [I.2.130]
That they may know our largess welcomes them.
[Exeunt all but Balthazar, Lorenzo and Horatio.]
Welcome, Don Balthazar; welcome, Nephew;
And thou, Horatio, thou art welcome too.
Young prince, although thy father’s hard misdeeds,
In keeping back the tribute that he owes,
Deserve but evil measure at our hands,
Yet shalt thou know that Spain is honorable.

BALTHAZAR: The trespass that my father made in peace
Is now controlled by fortune of the wars;
And cards once dealt, it boots not ask, why so? … [I.2.140]
His men are slain, a weakening to his Realm;
His colors seized, a blot unto his name;
His Son distressed, a corsive to his heart:
These punishments may clear his late offense.

KING: Aye, Balthazar, if he observe this truce,
Our peace will grow the stronger for these wars.
Meanwhile live thou, though not in liberty,
Yet free from bearing any servile yoke;
For in our hearing thy deserts were great,
And in our sight thyself art gracious. … [I.2.150

BALTHAZAR: And I shall study to deserve this grace.

KING: But tell me (for their holding makes me doubt)
To which of these twain art thou prisoner?

LORENZO: To me, my Liege.

HORATIO: ~~~ To me, my Sovereign.

LORENZO: This hand first took his courser by the reins.

HORATIO: But first my lance did put him from his horse.

LORENZO: I seized his weapon and enjoyed it first.

HORATIO: But first I forced him lay his weapons down.

KING: Let go his arm, upon our privilege. [Let him go.]
Say, worthy Prince, to whether didst thou yield? … [I.2.160]

BALTHAZAR: To him in courtesy, to this perforce:
He spake me fair, this other gave me strokes;
He promised life, this other threatened death;
He won my love, this other conquered me:
And truth to say, I yield myself to both.

HIERONIMO: But that I know your Grace for just and wise,
And might seem partial in this difference,
Enforced by nature and by law of arms
My tongue should plead for young Horatio’s right.
He hunted well that was a lion’s death, … [I.2.170]
Not he that in a garment wore his skin;
So Hares may pull dead lions by the beard.

KING: Content thee, Marshal, thou shalt have no wrong;
And for thy sake, thy Son shall want no right.
Will both abide the censure of my doom?

LORENZO: I crave no better than your grace awards.

HORATIO: Nor I, although I sit beside my right.

KING: Then by my judgment, thus your strife shall end:
You both deserve, and both shall have reward.
Nephew, thou tookst his weapon and his horse: … [I.2.180]
His weapons and his horse are thy reward.
Horatio, thou didst force him first to yield;
His ransom therefore is thy valor’s fee;
Appoint the sum, as you shall both agree.
But nephew, thou shalt have the Prince in guard,
For thine estate best fitteth such a guest.
Horatio’s house were small for all his train;
Yet, in regard thy substance passeth his,
And that just guerdon may befall desert,
To him we yield the armor of the Prince. … [I.2.190]
How likes Don Balthazar of this device?

BALTHAZAR: Right well, my Liege, if this proviso were,
That Don Horatio bear us company,
Whom I admire and love for chivalry.

KING: Horatio, leave him not that loves thee so.
Now let us hence to see our soldiers paid,
And feast our prisoner as our friendly guest. [Exeunt.]

Scene I.3: The Court of Portugal
[Enter Viceroy, Alexandro, Viluppo.]

VICEROY: Is our ambassador dispatched for Spain?

ALEXANDRO: Two days, my Liege, are past since his depart.

VICEROY: And tribute-payment gone along with him?

ALEXANDRO: Aye, my good Lord.

VICEROY: Then rest we here awhile in our unrest
And feed our sorrows with some inward sighs,
For deepest cares break never into tears.
But wherefore sit I in a regal throne?
This better fits a wretch’s endless moan. [Falls to the ground.]
Yet this is higher than my fortunes reach, … [I.3.10]
And therefore better than my state deserves.
Aye, aye, this earth, Image of melancholy,
Seeks him whom fates adjudge to misery.
Here let me lie: now am I at the lowest.
Qui jacet in terra, non habet unde cadat.
In me consumpsit vires fortuna nocendo:
Nil superest ut iam possit obesse magis.
Yes, Fortune may bereave me of my crown:
Here, take it now ; let Fortune do her worst.
She will not rob me of this sable weed; … [I.3.20]
Oh no, she envies none but pleasant things.
Such is the folly of despiteful chance.
Fortune is blind, and sees not my deserts;
So is she deaf, and hears not my laments;
And could she hear, yet is she willful-mad,
And therefore will not pity my distress.
Suppose that she could pity me, what then?
What help can be expected at her hands,
Whose foot is standing on a rolling stone
And mind more mutable than fickle winds? … [I.3.30]
Why wail I then, where’s hope of no redress?
Oh yes, complaining makes my grief seem less.
My late ambition hath distained my faith;
My breach of faith occasioned bloody wars;
These bloody wars have spent my treasure,
And with my treasure my people’s blood;
And with their blood, my joy and best-beloved,
My best-beloved, my sweet and only Son.
Oh wherefore went I not to war myself?
The cause was mine: I might have died for both: … [I.3.40]
My years were mellow, his but young and green;
My death were natural, but his was forced.

ALEXANDRO: No doubt, my Liege, but still the prince survives.

VICEROY: Survives! Aye, where?

ALEXANDRO: In Spain, a prisoner by mischance of war.

VICEROY: Then they have slain him for his father’s fault.

ALEXANDRO: That were a breach to common law of arms.

VICEROY: They reck no laws that meditate revenge.

ALEXANDRO: His ransom’s worth will stay from foul revenge.

VICEROY: No; if he lived, the news would soon be here. … [I.3.50]

ALEXANDRO: Nay, evil news fly faster still than good.

VICEROY: Tell me no more of news, for he is dead.

VILUPPO: My Sovereign, pardon the author of ill news,
And I’ll bewray the fortune of thy Son.

VICEROY: Speak on, I’ll guerdon thee, whate’er it be:
Mine ear is ready to receive ill news,
My heart grown hard ‘gainst mischief’s battery.
Stand up, I say, and tell thy tale at large.

VILUPPO: Then hear that truth which these mine eyes have seen:
When both the armies were in battle joined, … [I.3.60]
Don Balthazar, amidst the thickest troops,
To win renown did wondrous feats of arms:
Amongst the rest I saw him, hand-to-hand,
In single fight with their Lord-General;
Til Alexandro, that here counterfeits
Under the color of a duteous friend,
Discharged his Pistol at the Prince’s back,
As though he would have slain their General;
And therewithal Don Balthazar fell down;
And when he fell, then we began to fly: … [I.3.70]
But, had he lived, the day had sure been ours.

ALEXANDRO: Oh wicked forgery: Oh traiterous miscreant.

VICEROY: Hold thy peace! But now, Viluppo, say:
Where then became the carcass of my Son?

VILUPPO: I saw them drag it to the Spanish tents.

VICEROY: Aye, aye, my nightly dreams have told me this.
Thou false, unkind, unthankful, trait’rous beast,
Wherein had Balthazar offended thee,
That thou shouldst thus betray him to our foes?
Was’t Spanish gold that bleared so thine eyes, … [I.3.80]
That thou couldst see no part of our deserts?
Perchance, because thou art Terceira‘s Lord,
Thou hadst some hope to wear this diadem,
If first my son and then myself were slain;
But thy ambitious thought shall break thy neck.
Aye, this was it that made thee spill his blood,
[Takes the crown and puts it on again.]
But I’ll now wear it til thy blood be spilt.

ALEXANDRO: Vouchsafe, dread Sovereign, to hear me speak.

VICEROY: Away with him; his sight is second hell.
Keep him til we determine of his death: … [I.3.90]
If Balthazar be dead, he shall not live.
Viluppo, follow us for thy reward. [Exit Viceroy.]

VILUPPO: Thus have I with an envious, forged tale
Deceived the King, betrayed mine enemy,
And hope for guerdon of my villainy. [Exit.]

Scene I.4: A banqueting hall at the Court of Spain
[Enter Horatio and Bel-imperia.]

BEL-IMPERIA: Signior Horatio, this is the place and hour,
Wherein I must entreat thee to relate
The circumstance of Don Andrea’s death,
Who, living, was my garland’s sweetest flower,
And in his death hath buried my delights.

HORATIO: For love of him and service to yourself,
I nill refuse this heavy doleful charge;
Yet tears and sighs, I fear, will hinder me.
When both our Armies were enjoined in fight,
Your worthy chevalier amidst the thickest, … [I.4.10]
For glorious cause still aiming at the fairest,
Was at the last by young Don Balthazar
Encountered hand-to-hand: their fight was long,
Their hearts were great, their clamors menacing,
Their strength alike, their strokes both dangerous.
But wrathful Nemesis, that wicked power,
Envying at Andrea’s praise and worth,
Cut short his life, to end his praise and worth.
She, she herself, disguised in armor’s mask,
(As Pallas was before proud Pergamus) … [I.4.20]
Brought in a fresh supply of Halberdiers,
Which paunched his horse and dinged him to the ground.
Then young Don Balthazar with ruthless rage,
Taking advantage of his foe’s distress,
Did finish what his Halberdiers begun,
And left not til Andrea’s life was done.
Then, though too late, incensed with just remorse,
I with my band set forth against the Prince,
And brought him prisoner from his Halberdiers.

BEL-IMPERIA: Would thou hadst slain him that so slew my love. … [I.4.30]
But then was Don Andrea’s carcass lost?

HORATIO: No, that was it for which I chiefly strove,
Nor stepped I back til I recovered him:
I took him up and wound him in mine arms;
And wielding him unto my private tent,
There laid him down, and dewed him with my tears,
And sighed and sorrowed as became a friend.
But neither friendly sorrow, sighs, nor tears
Could win pale Death from his usurped right.
Yet this I did, and less I could not do; … [I.4.40]
I saw him honored with due funeral.
This scarf I plucked from off his lifeless arm,
And wear it in remembrance of my friend.

BEL-IMPERIA: I know the scarf: would he had kept it still;
For had he lived, he would have kept it still,
And worn it for his Bel-imperia’s sake,
For ’twas my favor at his last depart.
But now wear thou it both for him and me,
For after him thou hast deserved it best.
But for thy kindness in his life and death, … [I.4.50]
Be sure, while Bel-imperia’s life endures,
She will be Don Horatio’s thankful friend.

HORATIO: And [Madam] Don Horatio will not slack
Humbly to serve fair Bel-imperia.
But now, if your good liking stand thereto,
I’ll crave your pardon to go seek the Prince,
For so the Duke, your father, gave me charge.

BEL-IMPERIA: Aye, go Horatio, leave me here alone,
For solitude best fits my cheerless mood. [Exit.]
Yet what avails to wail Andrea’s death, … [I.4.60]
From whence Horatio proves my second love?
Had he not loved Andrea as he did,
He could not sit in Bel-imperia’s thoughts.
But how can love find harbor in my breast,
Til I revenge the death of my beloved?
Yes, second love shall further my revenge:
I’ll love Horatio, my Andrea’s friend,
The more to spite the Prince that wrought his end.
And where Don Balthazar, that slew my love,
Himself now pleads for favor at my hands, … [I.4.70]
He shall, in rigor of my just disdain,
Reap long repentance for his murderous deed:
For what was’t else but murd’rous cowardice,
So many to oppress one valiant knight,
Without respect of honor in the fight?
And here he comes that murdered my delight.
[Enter Lorenzo and Balthazar.]

LORENZO: Sister, what means this melancholy walk?

BEL-IMPERIA: That for a while I wish no company.

LORENZO: But here the Prince is come to visit you.

BEL-IMPERIA: That argues that he lives in liberty. … [I.4.80]

BALTHAZAR: No, Madam, but in pleasing servitude.

BEL-IMPERIA: Your prison then, belike, is your conceit.

BALTHAZAR: Aye, by conceit my freedom is enthralled.

BEL-IMPERIA: Then with conceit enlarge yourself again.

BALTHAZAR: What, if conceit have laid my heart to gage?

BEL-IMPERIA: Pay that you borrowed and recover it.

BALTHAZAR: I die, if it return from whence it lies.

BEL-IMPERIA: A heartless man and live? A miracle.

BALTHAZAR: Aye, Lady, love can work such miracles.

LORENZO: Tush, tush, my Lord, let go these ambages … [I.4.90]
And in plain terms acquaint her with your love.

BEL-IMPERIA: What boots complaint, when there’s no remedy?

BALTHAZAR: Yes, to your gracious self must I complain,
In whose fair answer lies my remedy;
On whose perfection all my thoughts attend,
On whose aspect mine eyes find beauty’s bower;
In whose translucent breast my heart is lodged.

BEL-IMPERIA: Alas, my Lord, these are but words of course,
And but device to drive me from this place.
[She in going in, lets fall her glove which Horatio coming out takes up.]

HORATIO: Madam, your Glove. … [I.4.100]

BEL-IMPERIA: Thanks, good Horatio; take it for thy pains.

BALTHAZAR: Signior Horatio stooped in happy time.

HORATIO: I reaped more grace than I deserved or hoped.

LORENZO: My Lord, be not dismayed for what is past;
You know that women oft are humorous:
These clouds will overblow with little wind;
Let me alone, I’ll scatter them myself.
Meanwhile, let us devise to spend the time
In some delightful sports and reveling.

HORATIO: The King, my Lords, is coming hither straight … [I.4.110]
To feast the Portingale Ambassador;
Things were in readiness before I came.

BALTHAZAR: Then here it fits us to attend the King,
To welcome hither our Ambassador,
And learn my Father and my Country’s health.
[Enter the banquet, Trumpets, the King, and Ambassador.]

KING: See, Lord Ambassador, how Spain intreats
Their prisoner Balthazar, thy Viceroy’s son:
We pleasure more in kindness than in wars.

AMBASSADOR: Sad is our King, and Portingale laments,
Supposing that Don Balthazar is slain.

BALTHAZAR: But so am I slain, by beauty’s tyranny.
You see, my Lord, how Balthazar is slain:
I frolic with the Duke of Castile’s son,
Wrapped every hour in pleasures of the Court
And graced with favors of his Majesty. … [I.5.10]

KING: Put off your greetings til our feast be done;
Now come and sit with us and taste our cheer. [Sit to the Banquet.]
Sit down, young Prince, you are our second guest:
Brother, sit down; and Nephew, take your place.
Signior Horatio, wait thou upon our Cup,
For well thou hast deserved to be honored.
Now, Lordings, fall to; Spain is Portugal
And Portingale is Spain; we both are friends;
Tribute is paid, and we enjoy our right.
But where is old Hieronimo, our Marshal? … [I.5.20]
He promised us, in honor of our guest,
To grace our banquet with some pompous jest.
[Enter Hieronimo with a Drum, three Knights, each his Scutcheon;
then he fetches three Kings; they take their Crowns and them captive.]
Hieronimo, this masque contents mine eye,
Although I sound not well the mystery.

HIERONIMO: The first armed knight, that hung his Scutcheon up,
[He takes the Scutcheon, and gives it to the King.]
Was English Robert, Earl of Gloucester,
Who, when King Stephen bore sway in Albion,
Arrived with five and twenty thousand men
In Portingale, and by success of war
Enforced the King, then but a Saracen, … [I.5.30]
To bear the yoke of the English monarchy.

KING: My Lord of Portingale, by this you see
That which may comfort both your King and you,
And make your late discomfort seem the less.
But say, Hieronimo, what was the next?

HIERONIMO: The second knight that hung his Scutcheon up,
[He doth as he did before.]
Was Edmund, Earl of Kent in Albion,
When English Richard wore the diadem.
He came likewise and razed Lisbon walls
And took the King of Portingale in fight; … [I.5.40]
For which and other such-like service done,
He after was created Duke of York.

KING: This is another special argument,
That Portugal may deign to bear our yoke
When it by little England hath been yoked.
But now, Hieronimo, what were the last?

HIERONIMO: The third and last, not least in our account
[Doing as before.]
Was, as the rest, a valiant Englishman,
Brave John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster,
As by his Scutcheon plainly may appear. … [I.5.50]
He with a puissant army came to Spain,
And took our King of Castile prisoner.

AMBASSADOR: This is an argument for our Viceroy
That Spain may not insult for her success,
Since English warriors likewise conquered Spain,
And made them bow their knees to Albion.

KING: Hieronimo, I drink to thee for this device,
Which hath pleased both the Ambassador and me:
Pledge me, Hieronimo, if thou love thy King.
Takes the cup of Horatio.]
My Lord, I fear we sit but over-long. … [I.5.60]
Unless our dainties were more delicate:
But welcome are you to the best we have.
Now let us in, that you may be dispatched:
I think our council is already set.
[Exeunt omnes.]

Scene I.6
[Ghost of Andrea, Revenge.]

ANDREA: Come we for this from depth of underground,
To see him feast that gave me my death’s wound?
These pleasant sights are sorrow to my soul:
Nothing but league, and love and banqueting.

REVENGE: Be still, Andrea; ere we go from hence,
I’ll turn their friendship into fell despite,
Their love to mortal hate, their day to night;
Their hope into despair, their peace to war;
Their joys to pain, their bliss to misery.

End Act 1