be. BEL. You meane to try my cunning then, Hieronimo! BAL. But this will be a meere confusion, And hardly shall we all be vnderstoode. HEIRO. It must be so; for the conclusion Shall proue the inuention and all was good; And I my-selfe in an oration, That I will haue there behinde a curtaine, And with a strange and wondrous shew besides, Assure your-selfe, shall make the matter knowne. And all shalbe concluded in once scene, For theres no pleasure tane in tediousnes. BAL.  [to LOR.]  How like you this? LOR. Why thus, my lord, we must resolue, To soothe his humors vp. BAL. On then, Hieronimo; farewell till soone! HIERO. You plie this geere? LOR. I warrant you. Exeuent all but HIERONIMO. HIERO. Why, so! now shall I see the fall of Babilon Wrought by the heauens in this confusion. And, if the world like not this tragedie, Hard is the hap of olde Hieronimo. Exit. 

  

       [ACT IV. SCENE 2.]     

                 [HIERONIMO's garden.]                  Enter ISABELLA with a weapon.    [ISA.]  Tell me no more! O monstrous homicides! Since neither pietie nor pittie moues The king to iustice or compassion, I will reuenge my-selfe vpon this place, Where thus they murdered my beloued sonne. She cuts downe the arbour. Downe with these branches and these loathsome bowes On this vnfortunate and fatall pine! Downe with them, Isabella; rent them vp, And burnes the roots from whence the rest is sprung! I will leaue not a root, a stalke, a tree, A bowe, a branch, a blossome, nor a leafe,—     Not, not a hearb within this garden plot, Accursed complot of my miserie! Fruitlesse for-euer may this garden be, Barren the earth, and blislesse whosoeuer Immagines not to keep it vnmanurde! An easterne winde comixt with noisome aires Shall blast the plants and yong saplings [here], The earth with serpents shalbe pestered, And passengers, for feare to be infect, Shall stand aloofe, and, looking at it, tell There murdred dide the sonne of Isabell. I, heere he dide, and heere I him imbrace! See where his ghoast solicites with his wounds Reuenge on her that should reuenge his death! Hieronimo, make haste to see thy sonne, For Sorrow and Dispaire hath scited me To heare Horatio plead with Radamant. Make haste, Hieronimo, to holde excusde Thy negligence in pursute of their deaths Whose hatefull wrath breau'd him of his breath. Ah, nay; thou dost delay their deaths, Forgiues the 

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