And how’s the wager? I understand you now.
Gentleman. Marry sir, that young leartes in twelve venies
At rapier and dagger do not get three odds of you,
And on your side the king hath laid,
And desires you to be in readiness.
Hamlet. Very well, if the king dare venture his wager,
I dare venture my skull. When must this be?
30 Gentleman. My lord, presently, the king and her majesty,
With the rest of the best judgement in the court,
Are coming down into the outward palace.
Hamlet. Go tell his majesty, I will attend him.
Gentleman. I shall deliver your most sweet answer. Exit.
Hamlet. You may sir, none better, for y’are spiced,
Else he had a bad nose could not smell a fool.
Horatio. He will disclose himself without inquiry.
Hamlet. Believe me, Horatio, my heart is on the sudden
Very sore, all hereabout.
40 Horatio. My lord, forbear the challenge then.
Hamlet. No Horatio, not I, if danger be now
Why then it is not to come, there’s a predestinate providence in the fall of a sparrow: here comes the king.
Enter King, Queen, leartes, lords.
King. Now son Hamlet, we have laid upon your head,
And make no question but to have the best.
Hamlet. Your majesty hath laid a’ the weaker side.
King. We doubt it not, deliver them the foils.
Hamlet. First leartes, here’s my hand and love,
Protesting that I never wronged leartes.
50 If Hamlet in his madness did amiss,
That was not Hamlet, but his madness did it,
And all the wrong I e’er did to leartes,
I here proclaim was madness: therefore let’s be at peace,
And think I have shot mine arrow o’er the house,
And hurt my brother.
Leartes. Sir I am satisfied in nature,
But in terms of honour I’ll stand aloof,
And will no reconcilement,
Till by some elder masters of our time
60 I may be satisfied.
King. Give them the foils.
Hamlet. I’ll be your foil leartes, these foils,
Have all a length: come on sir.
Here they play.
A hit!
Leartes. No, none.
Hamlet. Judgement?
Gentleman. A hit, a most palpable hit.
Leartes. Well, come again. They play again.
Hamlet. Another. Judgement?
70 Leartes. Ay, I grant, a touch, a touch.
King. Here Hamlet, the king doth drink a health to thee.
Queen. Here Hamlet, take my napkin, wipe thy face.
King. Give him the wine.
Hamlet. Set it by, I’ll have another bout first,
I’ll drink anon.
Queen. Here Hamlet, thy mother drinks to thee.
She drinks.
King. Do not drink Gertred! O ’tis the poisoned cup!
Hamlet. leartes come, you dally with me,
I pray you pass with your most cunning’st play.
80 Leartes. I! Say you so? have at you,
I’ll hit you now my lord:
And yet it goes almost against my conscience.
Hamlet. Come on sir.
They catch one another’s rapiers, and both are wounded, leartes falls down, the Queen falls down and dies.
King. look to the queen!
Queen. O, the drink, the drink, Hamlet, the drink.
Hamlet. Treason, ho, keep the gates!
Lords. How is’t my lord leartes?
Leartes. Even as a coxcomb should,
Foolishly slain with my own weapon.
90 Hamlet, thou hadst not in thee half an hour of life,
The fatal instrument is in thy hand,
Unbated and envenomed. Thy mother’s poisoned:
That drink was made for thee.
Hamlet. The poisoned instrument within my hand?
Then venom to thy venom, die, damned villain:
Come drink, here lies thy union here. The King dies.
Leartes. O, he is justly served:
Hamlet, before I die, here take my hand,
And withal, my love: I do forgive thee. Leartes dies.
100 Hamlet. And I thee, O I am dead, Horatio: fare thee well.
Horatio. No, I am more an antique Roman
Than a Dane, here is some poison left.
Hamlet. Upon my love I charge thee let it go,
O fie, Horatio, an if thou shouldst die,
What a scandal wouldst thou leave behind?
What tongue should tell the story of our deaths,
If not from thee? O my heart sinks, Horatio,
Mine eyes have lost their sight, my tongue his use:
Farewell, Horatio, heaven receive my soul. Hamlet dies.
Enter Voltemar and the Ambassadors from England.
Enter Fortenbrasse with his train.
110 Fortenbrasse. What is this bloody sight?
Horatio. If aught of woe or wonder you’d behold,
Then look upon this tragic spectacle.
Fortenbrassse. O imperious death! how many princes
Hast thou at one draught bloodily shot to death?
Ambassadors. Our embassy that we have brought from England,
Where be these princes that should hear us speak?
O most unlooked-for time! unhappy country.
Horatio. Content yourselves. I’ll show to all, the ground,
The first beginning of this tragedy.
120 Let there a scaffold be reared up in the marketplace,
And let the state of the world be there:
Where you shall hear such a sad story told,
That never mortal man could more unfold.
Fortenbrasse. I have some rights of memory to this kingdom,
Which now to claim my leisure doth invite me:
Let four of our chiefest captains
Bear Hamlet like a soldier to his grave:
For he was likely, had he lived.
To ’a proved most royal.
130 Take up the body, such a sight as this
Becomes the fields, but here doth much amiss.
FINIS
JOHN MARSTON
Antonio’s Revenge
List of Characters
GHOST OF ANDRUGIO formerly duke of Genoa
ANTONIO his son
MELLIDA betrothed to Antonio
PIERO SFORZA duke of Venice, father of Mellida
STROTZO his accomplice
JULIO young son of Piero
MARIA widow of Andrugio, mother of Antonio
LUCIO her servant
NUTRICHE her nurse
PANDULPHO FELICHE stoic gentleman
FELICHE dead son of Pandulpho
BALURDO foolish gentleman
ALBERTO
CASTILIO
FOROBOSCO
GALEATZO prince of Florence
MATZAGENTE
2 SENATORS
Pages, Attendants, Ladies, Herald, Mourners
The Prologue
The rawish dank of clumsy winter ramps
The fluent summer’s vein; and drizzling sleet
Chilleth the wan bleak cheek of the numbed earth,
Whilst snarling gusts nibble the juiceless leaves
From the naked shuddering branch, and pills the skin
From off the soft and delicate aspects.
O now, methinks, a sullen tragic scene
Would suit the time with pleasing congruence.
May we be happy in our weak devoir,
10 And all part pleased in most wished content:
But sweat of Hercules can ne’er beget
So blest an issue. Therefore we proclaim:
If any spirit breathes within this round,
Incapable of weighty passion
(As from his birth, being hugged in the arms,
And nuzzled ’twixt the breasts of happiness),
Who winks, and shuts his apprehension up
From common sense of what men were, and are,
Who would not know what men must be – let such
20 Hurry amain from our black-visaged shows.
We shall affright their eyes. But if a breast
Nailed to the earth with grief, if any heart
Pierced through with anguish, pant within this ring,
If there be any blood, whose heat is choked
And stifled with true sense of misery;
If aught of these strains fill this consort up,
Th’arrive most welcome. O that our power
Could lackey, or keep wing with our desires;
That with unused peise of style and sense,
30 We might weigh massy in judicious scale.
Yet here’s the prop that doth support our hopes:
When our scenes falter, or invention halts,
Your favour will give crutches to our faults. Exit.
Act 1
Scene 1
Enter Piero, unbraced, his arms bare, smeared in blood, a poniard in one hand bloody, and a torch in the other, Strotzo following him with a cord.
Piero. Ho, Gasper Strotzo, bind Feliche’s trunk
Unto the panting side of Mellida. Exit Strotzo.
’Tis yet dead night, yet all the earth is clutched
In the dull leaden hand of snoring sleep:
No breath disturbs the quiet of the air,
No spirit moves upon the breast of earth
Save howling dogs, night-crows, and screeching owls,
Save meagre ghosts, Piero, and black thoughts.
[A clock strikes.]
One, two. lord, in two hours what a topless mount
10 Of unpeered mischief have these hands cast up!
Enter Strotzo.
I can scarce coop triumphing vengeance up,
From bursting forth in braggart passion.
Strotzo. My lord, ’tis firmly said that –
Piero. Andrugio sleeps in peace: this brain hath choked
The organ of his breast. Feliche hangs
But as a bait upon the line of death,
To ’tice on mischief. I am great in blood,
Unequalled in revenge. You horrid scouts,
That sentinel swart night, give loud applause
20 From your large palms. First know, my heart was raised
Unto Andrugio’s life upon this ground.
Strotzo. Duke, ’tis reported –
Piero. We both were rivals in our May of blood,
Unto Maria, fair Ferrara’s heir.
He won the lady, to my honour’s death:
And from her sweets cropped this Antonio;
For which I burned in inward sweltering hate,
And festered rankling malice in my breast,
Till I might belk revenge upon his eyes.
30 And now, O blessed now, ’tis done. Hell, night,
Give loud applause to my hypocrisy!
When his bright valour even dazzled sense,
In offering his own head, public reproach
Had blurred my name. Speak, Strotzo, had it not?
If then I had –
Strotzo. It had, so please –
Piero. What had so please? Unseasoned sycophant,
Piero Sforza is no numbed lord,
Senseless of all true touch. Stroke not the head
40 Of infant speech, till it be fully born,
Go to.
Strotzo. How now? Fut, I’ll not smother your speech.
Piero. Nay, right thine eyes; ’twas but a little spleen:
[Aside] Huge plunge!
Sin’s grown a slave, and must observe slight evils.
Huge villains are enforced to claw all devils.
Pish, sweet thy thoughts, and give me –
Strotzo. Stroke not the head of infant speech? Go to!
Piero. Nay, calm this storm. I ever held thy breast
50 More secret, and more firm in league of blood,
Then to be struck in heat with each slight puff.
Give me thy ears: huge infamy
Press down my honour, if even then, when
His fresh act of prowess bloomed out full,
I had ta’en vengeance on his hated head.
Strotzo. Why it had –
Piero. Could I avoid to give a seeming grant
Unto fruition of Antonio’s love?
Strotzo. No.
60 Piero. And didst thou ever see a Judas kiss
With a more covert touch of fleering hate?
Strotzo. No.
Piero. And having clipped them with pretence of love,
Have I not crushed them with a cruel wring?
Strotzo. Yes.
Piero. Say, ’faith, didst thou e’er hear, or read, or see
Such happy vengeance, unsuspected death?
That I should drop strong poison in the bowl,
Which I myself caroused unto his health
70 And future fortune of our unity;
That it should work even in the hush of night,
And strangle him on sudden, that fair show
Of death, for the excessive joy of his fate
Might choke the murder? Ha, Strotzo, is’t not rare?
Nay, but weigh it: then Feliche stabbed,
Whose sinking thought frighted my conscious heart,
And laid by Mellida, to stop the match,
And hale on mischief. This all in one night?
Is’t to be equalled thinkst thou? O, I could eat
80 Thy fumbling throat, for thy lagged censure. Fut,
Is’t not rare?
Strotzo. Yes.
Piero. No? Yes? nothing but no, and yes, dull lump?
Canst thou not honey me with fluent speech,
And even adore my topless villainy?
Will I not blast my own blood for revenge?
Must not thou straight be perjured for revenge?
And yet no creature dream ’tis my revenge?
Will I not turn a glorious bridal morn
90 Unto a Stygian night? Yet naught but no, and yes?
Strotzo. I would have told you, if the incubus
That rides your bosom would have patience.
It is reported, that in private state,
Maria, Genoa’s duchess, makes to Court,
Longing to see him, whom she ne’er shall see,
Her lord Andrugio. Belike she hath received
The news of reconciliation –
Reconciliation with a death!
Poor lady shall but find poor comfort in’t.
100 Piero. O, let me swoon for joy. By heaven, I think
I ha’ said my prayers within this month at least,
I am so boundless happy. Doth she come?
By this warm reeking gore, I’ll marry her.
Look I not now like an inamorate?
Poison the father, butcher the son, and marry the mother, ha!
Strotzo, to bed: snort in securest sleep,
For see, the dapple-grey coursers of the morn
Beat up the light with their bright silver hooves,
And chase it through the sky. To bed, to bed.
110 This morn my vengeance shall be amply fed. Exit.
Act 1
Scene 2
Enter lucio, Maria, and Nutriche.
Maria. Stay gentle lucio, and vouchsafe thy hand.
Lucio. O, madam!
Maria. Nay, prithee give me leave to say, vouchsafe,
Submiss entreats beseem my humble fate.
Here let us sit. O, lucio, fortune’s gilt
Is rubbed quite off from my slight tin-foiled state,
And poor Maria must appear ungraced
Of the bright fulgor of glossed majesty.
Lucio. Cheer up your spirits madam: fairer chance
10 T
han that which courts your presence instantly,
Cannot be formed by the quick mould of thought.
Maria. Art thou assured the dukes are reconciled?
Shall my womb’s honour wed fair Mellida?
Will heaven at length grant harbour to my head?
Shall I once more clip my Andrugio,
And wreathe my arms about Antonio’s neck?
Or is glib rumour grown a parasite,
Holding a false glass to my sorrows’ eyes,
Making the wrinkled front of grief seem fair,
20 Though ’tis much rivelled with abortive care?
Lucio. Most virtuous princess, banish straggling fear;
Keep league with comfort. For these eyes beheld
The dukes united: yon faint glimmering light
Ne’er peeped through the crannies of the east,
Since I beheld them drink a sound carouse
In sparkling Bacchus
Unto each other’s health;
Your son assured to beauteous Mellida,
And all clouds cleared of threatening discontent.
30 Maria. What age is morning of?
Lucio. I think ’bout five.
Maria. Nutriche, Nutriche!
40 Nutriche. Beshrew your fingers! Marry, you have disturbed the pleasure of the finest dream. O God, I was even coming to it, la! O Jesu, ’twas coming of the sweetest. I’ll tell you now, methought I was married, and methought I spent (O lord, why did you wake me?) and methought I spent three spur-royals on the fiddlers for striking up a fresh hornpipe. Saint Ursula, I was even going to bed, and you – methought, my husband was even putting out the tapers – when you – lord, I shall never have such a dream come upon me, as long as –
Maria. Peace, idle creature, peace.
When will the Court rise?
Lucio. Madam, ’twere best you took some lodging up,
And lay in private till the soil of grief
Were cleared your cheek, and new burnished lustre
Clothed your presence, ’fore you saw the dukes,
And entered ’mong the proud Venetian states.
50 Maria. No lucio, my dear lord’s wise, and knows
That tinsel glitter, or rich-purfled robes,
Curled hairs, hung full of sparkling carcanets,
Are not the true adornments of a wife.
So long as wives are faithful, modest, chaste,
Wise lords affect them. Virtue doth not waste,
With each slight flame of crackling vanity.
A modest eye forceth affection,
Whilst outward gayness light looks but entice.
Fairer than nature’s fair is foulest vice.
60 She that loves art, to get her cheek more lovers,
Five Revenge Tragedies: The Spanish Tragedy, Hamlet, Antonio's Revenge, The Tragedy of Hoffman, The Revenger's Tragedy (Penguin Classics) Page 18
