The Spanish Tragedie. Thomas Kyd

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ pursued them to death,

       Till, Phoebus waning to the western deepe,

       Our trumpeters were chargd to sound retreat.

       KING. Thanks, good l[ord] general, for these good newes!

       And, for some argument of more to come,

       Take this and weare it for thy soueraignes sake.

       Giue him his chaine.

       But tell me now: hast thou confirmed a peace?

       GEN. No peace, my liege, but peace conditionall,

       That, if with homage tribute be well paid,

       The fury of your forces wilbe staide.

       And to this peace their viceroy hath subscribde,

       Giue the K[ING] a paper.

       And made a solemne vow that during life

       His tribute shalbe truely paid to Spaine.

       KING. These words, these deeds become thy person wel.

       But now, knight-marhsall, frolike with thy king,

       For tis thy sonne that winnes this battels prize.

       HIERO. Long may he liue to serue my soueraigne liege!

       And soone decay unless he serue my liege!

       A [trumpet] a-farre off.

       KING. Nor thou nor he shall dye without reward.

       What meanes this warning of this trumpets sound?

       GEN. This tels me that your Graces men of warre,

       Such as warres fortune hath reseru'd from death,

       Come marching on towards your royall seate,

       To show themselues before your Maiestie;

       For so gaue I in charge at my depart.

       Whereby by demonstration shall appeare

       That all, except three hundred or few more,

       Are safe returnd and by their foes inricht.

       The armie enters, BALTHAZAR betweene LORENZO

       and HORATIO, captiue.

       KING. A gladsome sight! I long to see them heere.

       They enter and passe by.

       Was that the warlike prince of Portingale

       That by our nephew was in triumph led?

       GEN. It was, my liege, the prince of Portingale.

       KING. But what was he that on the other side

       Held him by th' arme as partner of the prize?

       HIERO. That was my sonne, my gracious soueraigne;

       Of whome though from his tender infancie

       My louing thoughts did neuer hope but well,

       He neuer pleasd his fathers eyes till now,

       Nor fild my hart with ouercloying ioyes.

       KING. Goe, let them march once more about these walles,

       That staying them we may conferre and talke

       With our braue prisoner and his double guard.

       [Exit a MESSENGER.]

       Hieoronimo, it greatly pleaseth vs

       That in our victorie thou haue a share

       By vertue of thy worthy sonnes exploit.

       Enter againe.

       Bring hether the young prince of Portingale!

       The rest martch on, but, ere they be dismist,

       We will bestow on euery soldier

       Two duckets, and on euery leader ten,

       That they may know our largesse welcomes them.

       Exeunt all [the army] but BAL[THAZAR],

       LOR[ENZO], and HOR[ATIO].

       [KING.] Welcome, Don Balthazar! Welcome nephew!

       And thou, Horatio, thou art welcome too!

       Young prince, although thy fathers hard misdeedes

       In keeping backe the tribute that he owes

       Deserue but euill measure at our hands,

       Yet shalt thou know that Spaine is honorable.

       BALT. The trespasse that my father made in peace

       Is now controlde by fortune of the warres;

       And cards once dealt, it bootes not aske why so.

       His men are slaine—a weakening to his realme;

       His colours ceaz'd—a blot vnto his name;

       His sonne distrest—a corsiue to his hart;

       These punishments may cleare his late offence.

       KING. I, Balthazar, if he obserue this truce,

       Our peace will grow the stronger for these warres.

       Meane-while liue thou, though not in libertie,

       Yet free from bearing any seruile yoake;

       For in our hearing thy deserts were great.

       And in our sight thy-selfe art gratious.

       BALT. And I shall studie to deserue this grace.

       KING. But tell me—for their holding makes me doubt:

       To Which of these twaine art thou prisoner?

       LOR. To me, my liege.

       HOR. To me, my soueraigne.

       LOR. This hand first tooke his courser by the raines.

       HOR. But first my launce did put him from his horse.

       LOR. I ceaz'd the weapon and enioyde it first.

       HOR. But first I forc'd him lay his weapons downe.

       KING. Let goe his arm, vpon my priviledge!

       Let him goe.

       Say, worthy СКАЧАТЬ