%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 30263

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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 YOu that haue lost your former 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: 390 1: 391 The Spanish Tragedy, / Containing the lamentable Murders of Horatio and Bellimperia: / With the pitifull Death of old Hieronimo. The Spanish Tragedy, [C]ontaining the lamentable Murders of Horatio and Bellimperia: With the pittifull 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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<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Spanish Tragedy,</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">[C]ontaining 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 pittifull 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 tha]t have lost your former joyes, [And n]ow in woe your lives doe leade: [Feeding on] nought but dire annoyes, [Thinking] your griefes all griefes exceede. [Assure yo]ur selves it is not so: [Loe here] a sight of greater woe. [Haplesse Hi]eromino was my name, [On whom f]ond fortune smiled long:[But now her fl]attering smiles [I] blame, [Her flatteri]ng 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 gr]eat honour in the fielde: [Untill that] age with silvered haires, [My aged hea]d 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 fam]es aspiring wings: [Did so behav]e him in the fielde, [That he Pri]nce Baltazer Captive brings. [And with] great honour did present: [Him to th]e King Incontinent. [The Duke of] Castyles Daughter then [Desird Horat]io to relate: [The death of] her beloved friend, [Her love And]reas woofull fate. [But when] she knew who had him slaine: [Shee vow]d she would revenge the same. [Then more to] vexe Prince Baltazer, [Because he sle]we her chiefest friend:[She chose my] sonne for her chiefe flower, [Thereby mea]ning to work[e] revenge. [But mark] what then did st[rai]ght 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, He 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 co[nvaye] them to the place: [Where] these too lovers did remaine, [Joy]ing in sight of others face. [And] to their foes they did impart: [The] place where they shou[ld jo]y 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 spoyl[]d 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 wy[f]e, 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 Belli[mp]eria foorth had flung, From prison w[h]ere they kept her strong. The[n] 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 [ri]pt 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 g[oo]d I should resigne: My Marshall-ship which grievd my m[ind.] 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 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 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 fetch. 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[.]