%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Spanish Tragedy, / Containing the lamentable Murders of Horatio and Bellimperia: / With the pitifull Death of old Hieronimo. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1601-1601 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/22/2011 30246

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R214639 4 UNKNOWN UNKNOWN Queene Dido Queen Dido; Troy Town Queen Dido the same tune Queen Dido; Troy Town The Same Tune YOu that haue lost your fromer ioyes, / And now in woe your liues doe leade: THen Isabella my deare wyfe, / finding her sonne bereau'd of breath, Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 364 1: 365 The Spanish Tragedy, / Containing the lamentable Murders of Horatio and Bellimperia: / With the pitifull Death of old Hieronimo. The Spanish Tragedy, Containing the lamentable Murders of Horatio and Bellimperia: With the pittiful Death of old Hieronimo. The Spanish Tragedy, Containing the lamentable Murders of Horatio and Bellimperia: With the pitiful Death of old Hieronimo. 1601-1601 H. Gosson

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic The New World travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/ crass humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/22/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America death family nobility/ court violence Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/22/2011 1:44:29 PM XBallad Doss, MacKenzie Created XML Version of Ballad 4/22/2011 1:44:29 PM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/22/2011 1:44:29 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Zusky, Catherine Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/22/2011 1:44:29 PM Transcriptionist Two Mann, Rachel Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/22/2011 1:44:29 PM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 9/21/2010 Checker Charlotte Becker Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 7/15/2008 Bibliographer Giles Bergel Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 2/8/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/8/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 10/21/2008 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Spanish Tragedy,</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Containing the lamentable Murders of <hi rend="bold">Horatio</hi> and <hi rend="bold">Bellimperia:</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">With the pittiful Death of old <hi rend="bold">Hieronimo.</hi></hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the tune of <hi rend="bold">Queene Dido.</hi></hi></seg>
YOu that have lost your former joyes, And now in woe your lives doe leade:Feeding on nought but dire annoyes, Thinking your griefes all griefes exceede. Assure your selves it is not so: Loe here a sight of greater woe. Haplesse Hieromino was my name, On whom fond fortune smiled long: But now her flattering smiles [I] blame, Her flattering smiles hath done me wrong. Would I had dy[e]d 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:Untill that age with silvered haires, My aged head had overspred Then left I warre and stayde at home: And gave my honour to my sonne. Horatio my sweet onely childe, Prickt foorth 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. Desird Horatio to relate:The death of her beloved friend, Her love Andreas woofull fate. But when she knew who had him slaine: Shee vowd she would revenge 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, How he might sounde her secret minde. Which for to bring well to effect: To fetch her man he doth direct. Who being come into his sight, H[e] threatneth for to rid his life:Except straight wayes he should recite, His sisters love, the cause of strife. Compelld therefore to unfold his mind: Sayd with Horatio shees combinde. The Villaine then for hope of gaine, Did straight convaye them to the place:Where these too lovers did remaine, Joying in sight of others face. And to their foes they did impart: The place where they should joy 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 forme 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 cursd and bannd each thing was there. And that I would revenge the same, I dipt a napkin in his blood:Swearing to worke their woefull baine, That so had spoyld my cheifest good. And that I would not it forget: It allwayes at my hart I kept.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The second part To the same tune.</hi></seg>
THen Isabella my deare wyfe, Finding her sonne bereavd of breath, And loving 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 Joyes 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 showd 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 crave, But by Lorenzos bad intent, I hindred was, which made me rave. Then vexed more I stampd and frownd, 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 sayd twere good I should resigne: My Marshall-ship which grievd my mind. The Duke of Castyle hearing then, How I did grudge still at his sonne, Did send for me to make us friends:To stay the rumour then begune. Whereto I straight way gave consent: Although in heart I never meant. Sweete Bellimperia comes to me, Thinking my sonne I had forgot, To see me with his foes agree, The which I never meant God wot: But when wee knew each others mind, To worke revenge a meane I find. Then Bloody Baltazar enters in Entreating me to show some sport, Unto his Father and the King:That to his nuptiall did resort. Which gladly I prepard 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 gave their parts Immediately, 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 shewd 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, Uppon me all they straight did run. To torture me they doe prepare, Unlesse I should it straight declare. But that I would not tell it then, Even with my teeth I bit my tongue, And in despite did give 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, Unto my hand a pen did reach, Meaning thereby I should recite, The authors of this bloody forch. Then fained I my pen was naught And by strange signes a knife I sought. But when to me they gave the knife. I killd the Duke then standing by, And eke my selfe bereavd of life, For I to see my sonne did hye. The Kinges that scornd my griefes before, With nought can they theire Joyes 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 mans sight.
Printed at London for H. Gosson. FINIS.