Enter the GHOST of Andrea, and with him REVENGE, GHOST. When this eternal substance of my soul Did live imprison'd 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 possess'd a worthy dame, Which hight sweet Bel−imperia by name. But in

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... the harvest of my summer joys, Death's winter nipp'd the blossoms of my bliss, Forcing divorce betwixt my love and me. For in the late conflict with Portingale, My valour drew me into danger's mouth, Till life to death made passage through my wound.'!. When I was slain, my soul descended straight, To pass the flowing stream of Acheron: But churlish Charon, only boatman there, Said that my rites of burial not perform'd, I might not sit amongst his passengers. Ere Sol had slept three nights in Thetis' lap And slak'd his smoking chariot in her flood: By Don Horatio our Knight Marshal's son, My funerals and Obsequies were done. Then was the ferryman of hell content To pass me over to the slimy strond, That leads to fell Avernus' ugly waves: There pleasing Cerberus with honey'd speech, I pass'd 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 wand'ring ghost: But Minos in graven leaves of lottery, Drew forth the manner of my life and death. 'This knight' (quoth he) 'both liv'd and died in love And for his love tried fortune of the wars, And by war's fortune lost both love and life. 'Why then,' said Aeacus, '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: The Spanish Tragedy Act I, Scene i Act I, Scene ii Enter Spanish KING, GENERAL, CASTILE, HIERONIMO KING. Now say Lord General, how fares our camp? GENERAL. All well my sovereign liege, except some few, That are deceas'd 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 Portingals will pay us tribute then. GENERAL. Tribute and wonted homage therewithal. KING. Then bless'd be heaven, and guider of the heavens, From whose fair influence such justice flows. CASTILE. O multum dilecte Deo, tibi militat aether, Et corguratae culvato poplito gentes Succumbunt: recti soror est victoria jurir. KING. Thanks to my loving brother of Castile. But General, unfold in brief discourse Your form of batde 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, We may reward thy blissful chivalry. GENERAL. Where Spain and Portingale do joindy knit Their frontiers, leaning on each other's bound: There met our armies in their proud array, Both furnish'd well, both full of hope and fear: Both menacing alike with daring shows, Both vaunting sundry colours of device, Both cheerly sounding trumpets, drums and fifes. Both raising dreadful clamours to the sky, That valleys, hills, and rivers made rebound, And heaven itself was frighted with the sound. Our battles both were pitch'd in squadron form, Each corner strongly fenc'd with wings of shot, The Spanish Tragedy Act I, Scene ii And our carbines pursu'd them to the death, Till, Phoebus waning to the western deep, Our trumpeters were charg'd 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. Give him his chain. But tell me now, hast thou confirm'd a peace? GENERAL. No peace my liege, but peace conditional, That if with homage tribute be well paid, The fury of your forces will be stay'd. And to this peace their Viceroy hath subscrib'd. Give 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. A tucket afar off KING. Nor thou nor he shall die without reward. 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 reserv'd 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 return'd and by their foes enrich'd. The ARMY enters, BALTHAZAR between LORENZO and HORATIO captive. KING. A gladsome sight, I long to see them here. They enter and pass by. The Spanish Tragedy Act I, Scene ii 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 pleas'd his father's eyes till now, Nor fill'd my heart with overcloying joys. 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 thy worthy son's exploit.