THE SPANISH TRAGEDY

Thomas Kyd

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Containing the Lamentable Murders of Horatio and
Bellimperia with the pittiful, Death of
old Hieronimo

To the tune of Qveene Dido

THE FIRST PART



You that have lost your former ioyes,
And now in woe your lives doe leade,
Feeding on nought but dire annoyes,
Thinking your griefes all griefes exceede,
   Assure yourselves it is not so:
   Loe, here a sight of greater woe.

Hapless Hieronimo was my name,
On whom fond fortune smiled long:
And now her flattering smiles I blame;
Her flattering smiles hath done me wrong.
   Would I had dyed in tender yeares:
   Then had not beene this cause of teares.

I Marshall was in prime of yeares,
And wonne great honour in the fielde:
Vntill that age with siluered haires
My aged head had overspred.
   Then left warre, and stayde at home,
   And gave my honour to my sonne.

Horatio, my sweet onely childe,
Prickt forth by fames aspiring wings,
Did so behave him in the fielde
That he Prince Baltazer Captive brings;
   And with great honour did present
   Him to the King incontinent.

The Duke of Castyles Daughter then
Desir'd Horatio to relate
The death of her beloued friend,
Her love Andreas woofull fate.
   But when she knew who had him slaine,
   She vow'd she would reuenge the same.

Then more to vexe Prince Baltazer,
Because he slewe her chiefest friend,
She chose my sonne for her chiefe flower,
Thereby meaning to worke revenge.
   But marke what then did straight befall,
   To turne my sweete to bitter gall.

Lorenzo then, to finde the cause
Why that his sister was unkinde,
At last he found, within a pause,
Howe he might sound her secret minde:
   Which for to bring well to effect,
   To fetch her man he doth direct.

Who being come into his sight,
He threatneth for to rid his life,
Except straightwayes he should recite
His sister's loue, the cause of strife:
   Compell'd therefore to vnfold his mind,
   Sayd with Horatio shee's combinde.

The Villaine then, for hope of gaine,
Did straight conuaye them to the place,
Where these too louers did remaine,
Ioying in sight of others face;
   And to their foes they did impart
   The place where they should ioy their heart.

Prince Baltazer with his compeeres
Enters my bower all in the night,
And there my sonne slayne they upreare,
The more to worke my greater spight.
   But as I laye and toke repose,
   A voyce I hard, whereat I rose.

And finding then his senslesse form,
The murtherers I sought to finde,
But missing them I stood forlorne,
As one amased in his minde,
   And rent and puld my silvered haire,
   And curs'd and bann'd each thing was there.

And that I would reuenge the same,
I dipt a napkin in his blood,


Swearing to worke their woefull baine
That so had spoyl'd my chiefest good;
   And that I would not it forget,
   It allwayes at my hart I kept.

THE SECOND PART

TO THE SAME TVNE

Then Isabella, my deare wyfe,
Finding her sonne bereau'd of breath,
And louing him dearer then life,
Her owne hand straight doth worke her death.
   And now their deaths doth meet in one,
   My griefes are come, my Ioyes are gone.

Then frantickly I ran about,
Filling the ayre with mournefull groanes,
Because I had not yet found out
The murtherers, to ease my mones.
   I rent and tore each thing I got,
   And sayd, and did, I knew not what.

Thus as I past the streets, hard by
The Duke of Castiles house, as then
A Letter there I did espy,
Which show'd Horatios wofull end:
   Which Bellimperia foorth had flung
   From prison where they kept her strong.

Then to the Court forthwith I went,
And of the King did Justice craue;
But by Lorenzos bad intent
I hindred was, which made me raue.
   Then, vexed more, I stamp'd and frown'd,
   And with my ponyard ript the ground.

But false Lorenzo put mee out,
And tolde the King then by and by
That frantickly I ran about,
And of my sonne did alwayes cry;
   And say'd it were good I should resigne
   My Marshallship, which grieu'd my mind.

The Duke of Castyle, hearing then
How I did grudge still at his sonne,
Did send for me to make vs friends,
To stay the rumour then begone.
   Whereto I straightway gaue consent,
   Although in heart I neuer meant.
Sweete Bellimperia comes to me,
Thinking my sonne I had forgot,
To see me with his foes agree,
The which I neuer meant, God wot:
   But when wee knew each others mind,
   To worke reuenge a meanes I find.

When Bloody Baltazar enters in,
Entreating me to show some sport
Vnto his Father and the King,
That to his nuptiall did resort.
   Which gladly I prepar'd to show,
   Because I knew twould worke their woe,

And from the Chronicles of Spaine
I did record Erastus life,
And how the Turke had him so slayne,
And straight revenge wrought by his wife.
   Then for to act this Tragedy,
   I gaue their parts Immediatly.

Sweete Bellimperia Baltazar killes,
Because he slew her dearest friend,
And I Lorenzos blood did spill,
And eke his soule to hell did send.
   Then dyed my foes by dint of knife,
   But Bellimperia ends her life.

Then for to specifie my wronges,
With weeping eyes and mournefull hart,
I shew'd my sonne with bloody wounds,
And eke the murtherers did impart;
   And sayd my sonne was as deare to me
   As thine, or thine, though Kinges you be.

But when they did behold this thing,
How I had slayne their onely sonnes,
The Duke, the Viceroy, and the King
Vppon me all they straight did run.
   To torture me they doe prepare,
   Vnlesse I shuld it straight declare.

But that I would not tell it then,
Euen with my teeth I bit my tongue,
And in despite did giue it them,
That me with torments sought to wrong:
   Thus when in age I sought to rest,
   Nothing but sorrowes me opprest.

They knowing well that I could write,
Vnto my hand a pen did reach,
Meaning thereby I shuld recite
The authors of this bloody fetch.
   Then fained I my pen was naught,
   And by strange signes a knife I sought.

But when to me they gaue the knife,
I kill'd the Duke then standing by,
And eke my selfe bereau'd of life,
For I to see my sonne did hye.
   The Kinges, that scorn'd my griefes before,
   With nought can they theire Ioyes restore.

Here have you heard my Tragicke tale,
Which on Horatios death depends,
Whose death I could anew bewayle,
But that in it the murtherers ends.
   For murther God will bring to light,
   Though long it be hid from man's sight.

Finis.