thou canst weep vpon thy Balthazar, Tis like I wailde for my Horatio. And you, my l[ord], whose reconciled sonne Marcht in a net and thought himself vnseene, And rated me for a brainsicke lunacie, With "God amend that mad Hieronimo!"—     How can you brook our plaies catastrophe? And heere beholde this bloudie hand-kercher, Which at Horatios death weeping dipt Within the riuer of his bleeding wounds! It as propitious, see, I haue reserued, And neuer hath it left my bloody hart, Soliciting remembrance of my vow With these, O these accursed murderers! Which now perform'd, my hart is satisfied. And to this end the bashaw I became, That might reuenge me on Lorenzos life, Who therefore was appointed to the part And was to represent the knight of Rhodes, That I might kill him more conueniently. So, vice-roy, was this Balthazar thy sonne—     That Soliman which Bel-imperia In person of Perseda murdered,—     So[le]lie appointed to that tragicke part, That she might slay him that offended her. Poore Bel-imperia mist her part in this:     For, though the story saith she should haue died, Yet I, of kindenes and care for her, Did otherwise determine of her end. But loue of him whome they did hate too much Did vrge her resolution to be such. And princes, now beholde Hieronimo,     Author and actor in this tragedie, Bearing his latest fortune in his fist; And will as resolute conclude his parte As any of the actors gone before. And, gentles, thus I end my play! Vrge no more words, I haue no more to say. He runs to hang himselfe. KING. O hearken, vice-roy; holde Hieronimo! Brother, my newphew and they sonne are slaine! VICE. We are betraide! my Balthazar is slaine! Breake ope the doores; runne saue Hieronimo! Hieronimo, doe but enforme the king of these euents; Vpon mine honour, thou shalt haue no harme! HIERO. Vice-roy, I will not trust thee with my life, Which I this day haue offered to my sonne:     Accursed wretch, why staiest thou him that was resolued to die? KING. Speak, traitor! damned, bloudy murderer, speak!—     For, now I haue thee, I wil make thee speak! Why hast thou done this vndeseruing deed? VICE. Why hast thou murdered my Balthazar? CAS. Why hast thou butchered both my children thus? HIERO. O good words! As deare to me was Horatio As yours, or yours, my l[ord], to you. My guitles sonne was by Lorenzo slaine; And by Lorenzo and that Balthazar Am I at last reuenged thorowly,—     Vpon whole soules may Heauens be yet auenged With far greater far then these afflictions! CAS. But who were thy confederates in this? VICE. That 

 Prev. P 56/58 next