THE tragedy of Tancred and Gismund.  
COMPILED BY THE GENtlemen of the Inner Temple, and by them presented before her majesty.  
Newly revived and polished according to the decorum of these days. By R. W.  
 
LONDON, Printed by Thomas Scarlet, and are to be sold by R. Robinson. 1591.   

¶ To the right Worshipful and virtuous Ladies, the L. Anne Grey, & the Lady Mary Peter, long health of body, with quiet of mind, in the favour of God and men for ever.  
IT is most certain (right virtuous and worshipful) that of all human learning, Poetry (how contemptible soever it is in these days, is the most ancient) and in Poetry, there is no argument of more antiquity and elegancy than is the matter of Love; for it seems to be as old as the world, & to bear date from the first time that man & woman was: therefore in this, as in the finest metal, the freshest wits have in all ages shown their best workmanship. So amongst others these Gentlemen, which with what sweetness of voice and liveliness of action they then expressed it, they which were of her majesties right Honourable maidens can testify.  
Which being a discourse of two lovers, perhaps it may seem a thing neither fit to be offered unto your Ladyships, nor worthy me to busy myself withal: yet can I tell you madams, it differeth so far from the ordinary amorous discourses of our days, as the manners of our time do from the modestic and innocency of that age.  
And now for that weary winter is come upon us, which bringeth with him drooping days and tedious nights, if it be true, that the motions of our minds follow the temperature of the air wherein we live, than I think, the perusing of some mournful matter, tending to the view of a notable example, will refresh your wits in a gloomy day, & ease your weariness of the louring night. Which if it please you serve ye also for a solemn revel against this Festival time, for gismund's bloody shadow, with a little cost, may be entreated in her self-like person to speak to ye.  
Having therefore a desire to be known to your with I devised this way with myself to procure the same, persuading myself, there is nothing more welcome to your wisdoms, than the knowledge of wise, grave, & worthy matters, tending to the good instructions of youths, of whom you are mothers.  
In this respect therefore, I shall humbly desire ye to bestow a favour able countenance upon this little labour, which when ye have graced it withal, I must & will acknowledge myself greatly indebted unto your Ladyships in this behalf: neither shall I amongst the rest, that admire your rare virtues, (which are not a few in Essex) cease to commend this undeserved gentleness.  
Thus desiring the king of heaven to increase his graces in ye both, granting that your ends may be as honourable, as your lives are virtuous, I leave with a vain babble of many needless words to trouble you longer.  
Your worship's most dutiful and humble Orator Robert Wilmot.   

To his friend R. W.  
Master R: W. look not now for the tear of an entreater, I will beg no longer, and for your promises, I will refuse them as bad payment: neither can I be satisfied with any thing, but a peremptory performance of an old intention of yours, the publishing I mean of those waste papers (as it pleaseth you to call them, but as I esteem them, a most exquisite invention) of gismund's Tragedy. Think not to shift me off with longer delays, nor allege more excuses to get further respite, lest I arrest you with my Actum est, and commence such a suit of unkindness against you, as when the case shallbe scanned before the Judges of courtesy, the court will cry out of your immoderate modesty. And thus much I tell you before, you shall not be able to wage against me in the charges growing upon this action, especially, if the worshipful company of the Inner temple gentlemen patronize my cause, as undoubtedly they will, yea, & rather plead partially for me then let my cause miscarry, because themselves are parties. The tragedy was by them most pithily framed, and no less curiously acted in view of her Majesty, by whom it was then as princely accepted, as of the whole honourable audience notably applauded: yea, and of all men generally desired, as a work, either in stateliness of show, depth of conceit, or true ornaments of poetical art, inferior to none of the best in that kind: no, were the Roman Seneca the censurer. The brave youths that then (to their high praises) so feelingly performed the same in action, did shortly after lay up the look unregarded, or perhaps let it run abroad (as many parents do their children once past dandling) not respecting so much what hard fortune might befall it being out of their angers, as how their heroical wits might again be quickly conceived with new inventions of like worthiness, whereof they have been ever since wonderful fertile. But this orphan of theirs (for he wandereth as it were fatherless) hath notwithstanding, by the rare & beautiful perfections appearing in him, hitherto never wanted great favourers, and loving preservers. Among whom I cannot sufficiently commend your more than charitable zeal, and scholarly compassion towards him, that have not only rescued and defended him from the devouring jaws of oblivion, but vouchsafed also to apparel him in a new suit at your own charges, wherein he may again more boldly come abroad, and by your permission return to his old parents, clothed perhaps not in richer or more costly furniture than it went from them, but in handsomeness & fashion more answerable to these times, wherein fashions are so often altered. Let one word suffice for your encouragement herein: namely, that your commendable pains in disrobing him of his antic curiosity, and adorning him with the approved guise of our stateliest English terms (not diminishing, but more augmenting his artificial colours of absolute poesy, derived from his first parents) cannot but be grateful to most men's appetites, who upon our experience we know highly to esteem such lofty measures of sententiously composed Tragedies.  
How much you shall make me, and the rest of your private friends beholding unto you, I list not to discourse: and therefore grounding upon these alleged reasons, that the suppressing of this Tragedy, so worthy for that press, were no other thing then wilfully to defraud yourself of an universal thank, your friends of their expectations, and sweet G. of a famous eternity. I will cease to doubt of any other pretence to cloak your bashfulness, hoping to read it in print (which lately lay neglected amongst your papers) at our next appointed meeting.  
I bid you heartily farewell. From Pyrge in 〈◊〉, August the eight, 1591.  
Tuus fide & facultate. Guil. Webbe.   

TO THE WORSHIP FULL AND learned Society, the Gentlemen Students of the Inner Temple, with the rest of his singular good friends, the Gentlemen of the middle Temple, and to all other courteous readers, R. W. wisheth increase of all health, worship & learning, with the immortal glory of the graces adorning the same.  
YE may perceive (right Worshipful) in perusing the former Epistle sent to me, how sore I am beset with the importunities of my friends, to publish this Pamphlet: Truly I am and have been (if there be in me any soundness of judgement) of this opinion, that whatsoever is committed to the press is commended to eternity, and it shall stand a lively witness with our conscience, to our comfort or confusion, in the reckoning of that great day.  
Advisedly therefore was that Proverb used of our elder Philosophers, Manum a Tabula: withhold thy hand from the paper, and thy papers from the print or light of the world: for a lewd word escaped is irrevocable, but a bad or base discourse published in print is intolerable.  
Hereupon I have endured some conflicts between reason and judgement, whether it were convenient for the common wealth, with the indecorum of my calling (as some think it) that the memory of Tancred's Tragedy should be again by my means, revived, which the oftener I read over, and the more I considered thereon, the sooner I was won to consent thereunto: calling to mind that neither the thrice reverend & learned father M. Beza, was ashamed in his younger years, to send abroad in his own name, his Tragedy of Abraham, nor that rare Scot (the scholar of our age) Buchanan, his most pathetical jeptha.  
Indeed I must willingly confess this work simple, and not worth comparison to any of theirs: for the writers of them were grave men; of this, young heads: In them is shown the perfection of their studies; in this, the imperfection of their wits. Nevertheless herein they all agree, commending virtue, detesting vice, and lively deciphering their overthrow that suppress not their unruly affections. These things noted herein, how simple soever the verse be, I hope the matter will be acceptable to the wise.  
Wherefore I am now bold to present Gismund to your sights, and unto yours only, for therefore have I conjured her, by the love that hath been these 24. years betwixt us, that she wax not so proud of her fresh painting, to straggle in her plumes abroad, but to contain herself within the walls of your house; so am I sure she shallbe safe from the Tragedian Tyrants of our time, who are not ashamed to affirm that there can no amorous poem savour of any sharpness of wit, unless it be seasoned with scurrilous words.  
But leaving them to their lewdness, I hope you, & all discreet readers, will thankfully receive my pains, the fruits of my first harvest: the rather, perceiving that my purpose in this Tragedy, tendeth only to the exaltation of virtue, & suppression of vice, with pleasure to profit and help all men, but to offend, or hurt no man. As for such as have neither the grace, nor the good gift to do well themselves, nor the common honesty, to speak well of others, I must (as I may) hear and bear their baitings with patience.  
Yours devoted in his ability, R. Wilmot.   

A Preface to the queen's Maidens OF HONOUR.  

FLowers of prime, pearls couched all in gold,  
Light of our days that glads the fainting hearts  
Of them that shall your shining gleams behold,  
Salve of each sore, recure of inward smarts,  
In whom Virtue and Beauty striveth so,  
As neither yields, behold here for your gain  
Gismond's unlucky love, her fault, her woe  
And death, at last her cruel Father slain  
Through his mishap, and though you do not see,  
Yet read and rue their woeful Tragedy.  
So jove, as your high virtues done deserve,  
Grant you such feres, as may your virtues serve  
With like virtues, and blissful Venus send  
Unto your happy loves an happy end.   

Another to the same.  
GIsmond, that whilom lived her father's joy  
And died his death, now dead, doth as she may  
By us pray you to pity her annoy.  
And to requite the same, doth humbly pray,  
Heavens to forefend your loves from like decay.  
The faithful Earl doth also make request,  
Wishing those worthy knights whom ye embrace,  
The constant truth that lodged in his breast.  
His hearty love, not his unhappy case,  
Befall to such a triumph in your grace.  
The King prays pardon of his cruel hest,  
And for amends, desires it may suffice,  
That by his blood he warneth all the rest  
Of fond fathers, that they in kinder wise,  
Entreat the jewels where their comfort lies.  
We, as their messengers, beseech ye all  
On their behalfs, to pity all their smarts,  
And for ourselves, (although the worth be small)  
We pray ye, to accept our humble hearts  
Avowed to serve with prayer and with praise,  
Your Honours, all unworthy other ways.    

The Tragedy of Tancred and Gismund.  
Argumentum Tragediae.  
TAncred the Prince of Salerne, overloves  
His only daughter (wonder of that age)  
Gismund, who loves the County Palurin,  
Guiszard, who quites her likings with his love:  
A Letter in a cane, describes the means  
Of their two meetings, in a secret cave.  
Unconstant fortune leadeth forth the king  
To this unhappy sight, wherewith in rage,  
The gentle Earl he doometh to his death,  
And greets his daughter with her lovers heart.  
Gismunda fills the goblet with her tears,  
And drinks a poison which she had distilled,  
Whereof she dies, whose deadly countenance  
So grieves her Father, that he slew himself.  
another of the same more at large in prose.  
TANCRED king of Naples and Prince of Salerne, gave his only daughter Gismund (whom he most dearly loved) in marriage to a foreign Prince, after whose death she returned home to her Father, who having felt great grief of her absence whilst her husband lived, immeasurably esteeming her, determined never to suffer any second marriage to bereave him of her She on the other side waxing weary of that her father's purpose, bent her mind to the secret love of the County Palurin: to whom (he being likewise inflamed with love of her) by a Letter subtly enclosed in a cloven cane, she gave to understand a convenient way for their desired meetings, through an old ruinous vault, whose mouth opened directly under her chamber floor. Into this vault when she was one day descended (for the conveyance of her lover) her father in the mean season (whose only joy was in his daughter) came to her chamber, and not finding her there, supposing her to have been walked abroad for her disport, he threw him down on her bed, and covered his head with a curtain, minding to abide and rest there till her return. She nothing suspecting this her fathers unseasonable coming, brought up her lover out of the cane into her chamber, where her father espied their secret love: and he (not espied of them) was upon this sight stricken with marvelous grief; but either for that the sudden despite had amazed him, & taken from him all use of speech, or for that he resolved himself to a more convenient revenge, he then spoke nothing, but noted their return into the vaunt, and secretly departed. Afterward bewailing his mishap, be commanded the Earl to be attached, imprisoned, strangled, unboweled, and his heart in a cup of gold to be presented to his daughter: she thankfully receiveth the present, filling the cup (wherein the heart was) with her tears, with a vonimcus potion (by her distilled for that purpose) she drank to her Earl. Which her father hearing of, came too late to comfort his dying daughter, who for her last request besought him, that her lover and herself, might in one tomb be together buried, for a perpetual memory of their faithful loves, which request he granted, adding to the burial, himself slain with his own hands, to his own reproach, and the terror of all other hard hearted fathers.  

Actus. 1.  

Scaena. 1.  Cupid cometh out of the heavens in a cradle of flowers, drawing forth upon the stage in a blue twist of silk, from his left hand Vain hope, Brittle joy. And with a carnation twist of silk from his right hand, Fair resemblance, Late Repentance. Cupid. 
There rest my chariot on the mountain tops,  
I that in shape appear unto your sight  
A naked boy, not clothed but with my wings,  
Am that great God of Love, who with his might  
Ruleth the waste wide world, and living things.  
This left hand bears vain hope, short joyful state,  
With fair Resemblance, lovers to allure,  
This right hand holds Repentance all too late,  
War, fire, blood, and pains without recure.  
On sweet Ambrosia, is not my food,  
Nectar is not my drink, as to the rest  
"Of all the Gods: I drink the lovers blood,  
" And feed upon the heart within his breast.  
Well hath my power in heaven and earth been tried,  
And deepest hell, my piercing force hath known.  
The marble seas, my wonders have descried,  
Which elder age throughout the world hath blown.  
To me, the king of Gods and men doth yield, 
Tom.   
As witness can the Greekish maid, whom I  
Made like a cow go lowing through the field,  
lest jealous juno should the scape espy:  
The doubled night, the suns restrained course,  
His secret stealths, the slander to eschew, 
Like to Amphitrio to Alcmena.   
In shape transformed, we list not to discourse.  
All that and more we forced him to do.  
The warlike Mars hath not subdued our might,  
We feared him not, his fury nor disdain,  
That can the God's record: before whose sight  
He lay fast wrapped in Vulcan's subtle chain.  
He that on earth yet hath not felt our power,  
Let him behold the fall and cruel spoil  
Of thee fair Troy, of Asia the flower,  
So foul defaced, and leveled with the soil.  
Who forced Leander with his naked breast  
So many nights to cut the frothy waves,  
But hero's love, that lay enclosed in Sest?  
The stoutest hearts to me shall yield them slaves.  
Who could have matched the huge Alcides' strength, 
Hercules.   
Great Macedon, what force might have subdued? 
Alexand.   
Wise Scipio who overcame at length,  
But we, that are with greater force endued?  
Who could have conquered the golden fleece  
But jason, aided by Medea's art?  
Who durst have stolen fair Helen out of Greece  
But I, with love that boldened Paris heart?  
What bond of nature, what restraint avails  
Against our power? I vouch to witness truth.  
The Myrrh tree that with shamefast tears bewails 
Myrrha   
Her father's love, still weary yet for ruth.  
But now, this world not seeing in these days,  
Such present proofs of our all-daring power,  
Disdains our name, and seeketh sundry ways,  
To scorn and scoff, and shame us every hour,  
A brat, a bastard, and an idle boy,  
A rod, a staff, a whip to beat him out,  
And to be sick of love, a childish toy,  
These are mine honours now the world about,  
My name disgraced, to raise again therefore,  
And in this age, mine ancient renown  
By mighty acts, intending to restore,  
Down to the earth, in wrath now am I come.  
And in this place, such wonders shall ye hear,  
As these your stubborn, and disdainful hearts,  
In melting tears, and humble yielding fear,  
Shall soon relent by sight of others smarts.  
This princely palace, will I enter in,  
And there inflame, the fair Gismunda, so  
enraging all her secret veins within,  
Through fiery love, that she shall feel much woe.  
Too late repentance, thou shalt bend my bow.  
Vain hope, take out my pale dead heavy shaft,  
Thou fair Resemblance, foremost forth shalt go,  
With Brittle joy: myself will not be least,  
But after me, comes death, and deadly pain.  
Thus shall ye march, till we return again,  
meanwhile, sit still, and here I shall you show  
Such wonders, that at last with one accord,  
Ye shall relent, and say that now ye know,  
Love rules the world, Love is a mighty Lord,  Exit. Cupid with his train entereth into King Tancred's Palace. Gismunda in Purple cometh out of her Chamber, attended by four maids that are the Chorus.  

Scaena. 2.  Gismund. 
"O Vain, unsteadfast state of mortal things,  
" Who trusts this world, leans to a brittle stay,  
"Such fickle fruit, his flattering bloom forth brings  
" Ere it be ripe, it falleth to decay,  
The joy and bliss that late I did possess,  
In weal at will, with one I loved best,  
Is turned now into so deep distress,  
As teacheth me to know the world's unrest.  
For neither wit nor princely stomachs serve  
Against his force that slays without respect,  
The noble and the wretch: x doth reserve,  
So much as one, for worthiness elect.  
Ah me dear Lord, what well of tears may serve  
To feed the streams of my foredulled eyes,  
To weep thy death, as thy death doth deserve,  
And wail thy want in full sufficing wise.  
Ye lamps of heaven, and all ye heavenly powers,  
Wherein did he procure your high disdain,  
He never sought with vast huge mounting towers  
To reach aloft, and overview your reign,  
Or what offence of mine was it unwares,  
That thus your fury should on me be thrown,  
To plague a woman with such endless cares,  
I fear that envy hath the heavens this shown.  
The Sun his glorious virtues did disdain,  
Mars at his manhood mightily repined,  
Yea all the Gods no longer could sustain,  
Each one to be excelled in his kind.  
For he my Lord surpassed them every one,  
Such was his honour all the world throughout,  
But now my love, oh whither art thou gone?  
I know thy ghost doth hover here about,  
Expecting me (thy heart) to follow thee:  
And I (dear love) would fain dissolve this strife,  
But stay a while, I may perhaps foresee  
Some means to be disburdened of this life,  
And to discharge the duty of a wife,  
Which is, not only in this life to love,  
But after death her fancy not remove.  
meanwhile accept of these our daily rites,  
Which with my maidens I shall do to thee,  
Which is, in songs to cheer our dying spirits  
With hymns of praises of thy memory.  Cantant. Qua mihi cantio nondum occurrit. The Song ended, Tancred the King cometh out of his palace with his guard.  

Scaena. 3.  Tancred. 

Fair daughter, I have sought thee out with grief,  
To ease the sorrows of thy vexed heart.  
How long wilt thou torment thy father thus?  
Who daily dies to see thy needles tears,  
Such bootless plaints that know nor mean nor end  
To but increase the floods of thy lament,  
And since the world knows well there was no want  
In thee, of aught that did to him belong  
Yet all thou seest could not his life prolong.  
Why then dost thou provoke the heavens to wrath?  
His doom of death was dated by his stars,  
"And who is he that may withstand his fate?  
By these complaints small good to him thou dost,  
Much grief to me, most hurt unto thyself,  
And unto Nature greatest wrong of all.   Gis. 

Tell me not of the date of nature's days,  
Then in the April of her springing age:  
No, no, it was my cruel destiny,  
That spited at the pleasance of my life.   Tanc. 

My daughter knows the proof of nature's course  
"For as the heavens do guide the lamp of life  
" So can they search no further forth the flame,  
"Then whilst with oil they do maintain the same.   Gis. 

Cursed be the stars, and vanish may they cursed,  
Or fall from heaven, that in the dire aspect,  
abridged the health and welfare of my love.   Tanc. 

Gismund my joy, set all these griefs apart,  
"The more thou art with hard mishap beset,  
" The more thy patience should procure thine ease.   Gis. 

What hope of hap may cheer my hapless chance  
What sighs, what tears may countervail my cares?  
What should I do, but still his death bewail,  
That was the solace of my life and soul?  
Now, now I want the wonted guide and stay  
Of my desires, and of my wreakless thoughts,  
My Lord, my love, my life, my liking gone,  
In whom was all the fullness of my joy,  
To whom I gave the first fruits of my love,  
Who with the comfort of his only sight,  
All cares and sorrows could from me remove.  
But father, now my joys forepast to tell,  
Do but revive the horrors of my hell.  
As she that seems in darkness to behold  
The gladsome pleasures of the cheerful light.   Tanc. 

What then avails thee fruitless thus to rue  
His absence whom the heavens cannot return:  
Impartial death thy husband did subdue,  
Yet hath he spared thy kingly father's life:  
Who during life, to thee a double stay,  
As father, and as husband will remain,  
With doubled love to ease thy widows want.  
Of him whose want is cause of thy complaint,  
Forbear thou therefore all these needless tears,  
That nip the blossoms of thy beauty's pride.   Gis. 
Father, these tears love challengeth of due.  Tan. 
But reason saith thou shouldst the same subdue.  Gis. 
His funerals are yet before my sight.  Tan. 
In endless moans Princes should not delight.  Gis. 
The turtle pines in loss of her true mate.  Tan. 
And so continues poor and desolate.  Gis. 
Who can forget a Jewel of such price?  Tanc. 

She that hath learned to master her desires.  
"Let reason work that time doth easily frame  
" In meanest wits: to bear the greatest ills.   Gis. 

So plenteous are the springs  
Of sorrows that increase my passions,  
As neither reason can recure my smart,  
Nor can your care, nor fatherly comfort  
Appease the stormy combats of my thoughts,  
Such is the sweet remembrance of his life.  
Then give me leave, of pity pity me,  
And as I can I shall allay these griefs.   Tan. 

These solitary walks thou doest frequent,  
Yield fresh occasions to thy secret moans:  
We will therefore thou keep us company,  
Leaving thy maidens with their harmony.  
Wend thou with us, virgins withdraw yourselves.   Tan. and Gis. with the Guard, depart into the palace, the four maidens stay behind, as Chorus to the Tragedy. Chor. 1. 
The divers haps which always work our care,  
Our joys so far, our woes so near at hand,  
Have long ere this, and daily do declare  
The fickle foot on which our state doth stand.  
"Who plants his pleasures here to gather root,  
" And hopes his happy life will still endure,  
"Let him behold how death with stealing foot  
" Steps in, when he shall think his joys most sure.  
"No ransom serveth to redeem our days.  
If prows could preserve, or worthy deeds,  
He had yet lived whose twelve labours displays  
His endless fame, and yet his honour spreads.  
And that great king that with so small a power 
Alexander.   
Bereft the mighty Persian his crown:  
Doth witness well our life is but a flower,  
Though it be decked with honour and renown.  Chor. 2 
"What grows today in favour of the heaven,  
" Nursed with the sun, and with the showers sweet,  
"Plucked with the hand it withereth ere even.  
" So pass our days even as the rivers fleet.  
The valiant Greeks that unto Troya gave  
The ten years siege, left but their names behind.  
And he that did so long and only save 
Hect.   
His father's walls, found there at last his end.  
Proud Rome herself, that whilom laid her yoke  
On the wide world, and vanquished all with war,  
Yet could she not remove the fatal stroke  
Of death, from them that stretched her power so far.  Chor. 3 
Look what the cruel sisters once decreed  
The thunderer himself cannot remove:  
They are the Ladies of our destiny,  
To work beneath, what is conspired above,  
But happy he that ends this mortal life,  
By speedy death, who is not forced to see,  
The many cares, nor feel the sundry griefs  
Which we sustain, in woe and misery.  
Here Fortune rules, who when she list to play,  
Whirleth her wheel, and brings the high full low,  
To morrow takes, what she hath given to day,  
To show she can advance, and over throw.  
Not Euripus unquiet flood so oft  
Ebbs in a day, and floweth too and fro,  
As Fortune's change, plucks down that was aloft,  
And mingleth joy, with interchange of woe.  Chor. 4 
Who lives below, and feeleth not the strokes,  
Which often times on highest towers do fall,  
Nor blustering winds, wherewith the strongest oaks  
Are rent and torn, his life is surest of all:  
For he may scorn Fortune, that hath no power  
On him, that is well pleased with his estate:  
He seeketh not her sweets, nor fears her sour,  
But lives contented in his quiet rate,  
And marking how these worldly things do wade,  
Rejoiceth to himself, and laughs to see  
The folly of men, that in their wits have made,  
Fortune a goddess, placed in the sky.   
Finis Actus 1.  Exegit Rod. Staff.  

Actus. 2.  

Scaena. 1.  Gismund. 
Dear Aunt, my sole companion in distress,  
And true copartner of my thoughtful cares:  
When with myself, I weigh my present state,  
Comparing it with my forepast days,  
New heaps of cares, afresh begin t' assay  
My pensive heart: as when the glittering rays,  
Of bright Phoebus, are suddenly o'erspread,  
With dusky clouds, that dim his golden light,  
Namely, when I, laid in my widows bed,  
Amid the silence, of the quiet night,  
With curious thought, the fleeting course observe,  
Of gladsome youth: how soon his flower decay.  
How time once passed, may never have recourse,  
No more than may the running streams revert,  
To climb the hills, when they been rolled down  
The hollow vales, there is no curious art,  
Nor worldly power, no not the gods can hold  
The sway of flying time, nor him return  
When he is past: all things unto his might  
Must bend, and yield, unto the Iron teeth  
Of eating time: this in the shady night,  
When I record, how soon my youth withdraws  
itself away, how swift my pleasant spring  
Runs out his race, this this (Aunt) is the cause.  
When I advise me sadly on this thing,  
That makes my heart, in pensive dumps dismayed.  
For if I should, my springing years neglect.  
And suffer youth, fruitless to fade away:  
Whereto live I? or whereto was I borne?  
Wherefore hath nature decked me with her grace?  
Why have I tasted the delights of love?  
And felt the sweets of Hymeneus' bed?  
But to say sooth (dear Aunt) it is not I  
Sole and alone, can thus content to spend  
My cheerful years: my father will not still  
Prolong my mournings, which have grieved him,  
And pleased me too long. Then this I crave,  
To be resolved of his princely mind.  
For, stood it with the pleasure of his will  
To marry me, my fortune is not such,  
So hard, that I so long should still persist  
Makeless alone in woeful widowhood,  
And shall I tell mine Aunt? come hither then,  
Give me that hand, by thine own right hand,  
I charge thy heart my counsels to conceal.  
Late have I seen, and seeing, took delight,  
And with delight, I will not say, I love,  
A Prince, an Earl, a County in the Court.  
But love and duty force me to refrain,  
And drive away these fond affections,  
Submitting them unto my father's hest.  
But this (good Aunt) this is my chiefest pain,  
Because I stand at such uncertain stay.  
For if my kingly father would decree  
His final doom, that I must lead my life  
Such as I do, I would content me then  
To frame my fancies to his princely hest,  
And as I might, endure the grief thereof.  
But now his silence doubleth all my doubts,  
Whilst my suspicious thoughts twixt hope & fear,  
Distract me into sundry passions.  
Therefore (good Aunt) this labour must be yours,  
To understand my father's will herein:  
For well I know your wisdom knows the means,  
So shall you both allay my stormy thoughts,  
And bring to quiet my unquiet mind.  Luc. 

Sufficeth this (good Niece) that you have said,  
For I perceive what sundry passions  
Strive in your breast, which oftentimes ere this  
Your countenance confused did bewray,  
The ground whereof since I perceive to grow  
On just respect of this your sole estate,  
And skilful care of fleeting youths decay,  
Your wise foresight such sorrowing to eschew  
I much commend, and promise as I may  
To break this matter, and impart your mind,  
Unto your father, and to work it so,  
As both your honour shall not be impeached,  
Nor he unsatisfied of your desire.  
Be you no farther grieved, but return  
Into your chamber. I shall take this charge,  
And you shall shortly truly understand  
What I have wrought, and what the king affirms.  
I leave you to the fortune of my stars.   Gis. departeth into her chamber, Luc. abiding on the stage. Luc. 

The heavens I hope will favour your request.  
My Niece shall not impute the cause to be  
In my default, her will should want effect:  
But in the king is all my doubt, lest he  
My suit for her new marriage should reject.  
Yet shall I prove him: and I heard it said,  
He means this evening in the park to hunt,  
Here will I wait attending his approach.   Tancred cometh out of his Palace with Guiszard the County Palurine, julio the Lord Chamber lain, Renuchio captain of his Guard, already to hunt.  

Scaena. 2.  Tancred 
Uncouple all our hounds: Lords to the chase:  
Fair sister Lucre, what's the news with you?  Luc. 
Sir as I always have employed my power,  
And faithful service, such as lay in me,  
In my best wise, to honour you and yours:  
So now, my bounden duty moveth me,  
Your majesty most humbly to entreat,  
With patient ears, to understand the state,  
Of my poor niece, your daughter.  Tanc. 

what of her?  
Is she not well? Enjoys she not her health?  
Say sister, ease me of this jealous fear?   Lucr. 

She lives my Lord, & hath her outward health,  
But all the danger of her sickness lies  
In the disquiet of her princely mind:   Tan. 
Resolve me? what afflicts my daughter so,  Lucr. 

Since when the Princes hath entombed her Lord  
Her late deceased husband of renown:  
Brother, I see, and very well perceive,  
She hath not closed together in his grave,  
All sparks of nature, kindness, nor of love:  
But as she lives, so living may she feel,  
Such passions as our tender hearts oppress,  
Subject unto th' impressions of desire:  
Forwell I wot, my niece was never wrought,  
Of steel, nor carved from the stony rock,  
Such stern hardness, we ought not to expect,  
In her, whose princely heart, and springing years,  
Yet flowering in the chiefest heat of youth,  
Is led of force, to feed on such conceits,  
As easily befalls that age, which asketh ruth  
Of them, whom nature bindeth by foresight  
Of their grave years, and careful love to reach,  
The things that are above their feeble force:  
And for that cause, dread Lord although.   Tanc. 

Sister I say.  
If you esteem, or ought respect my life,  
Her honour, and the welfare of our house,  
Forbear, and wade no further in this speech.  
Your words, are wounds, I very well perceive,  
The purpose of this smooth oration:  
This I suspected, when you first began,  
This fair discourse with us: Is this the end  
Of all our hopes, that we have promised  
Unto ourself, by this her widowhood?  
Would our dear daughter, would our only joy,  
Would she forsake us? would she leave us now?  
Before she hath closed up, our dying eyes,  
And with her tears, bewailed our funeral?  
No other solace, doth her father crave,  
But whilst the fates, maintain his dying life,  
Her healthful presence, gladsome to his soul,  
Which rather than he willing would forego,  
His heart desires, the bitter taste of death:  
Her late marriage, hath taught us to our grief,  
That in the fruits, of her perpetual sight  
Consists the only comfort and relief,  
Of our unwieldy age: for what delight  
What joy? what comfort? have we in this world,  
Now grown in years, and overworn with cares,  
Subject unto the sudden stroke of death,  
Already falling like the mellowed fruit,  
And dropping by degrees into our grave.  
But what revives us? what maintains our soul  
Within the prison of our withered breast?  
But our Gismunda and her cheerful sight.  
O daughter, daughter, what desert of mine,  
Wherein have I been so unkind to thee?  
Thou shouldst desire to make my naked house  
Yet once again stand desolate by thee?  
O let such fancies vanish with their thoughts,  
Tell her I am her father, whose estate,  
Wealth, honour, life, and all that we possess,  
Wholly relies upon her presence here.  
Tell her I must account her all my joy,  
Work as she will: But yet the were unjust,  
To haste his death that liveth by her fight   Lucr. 
Her gentle heart abhors such ruthless thoughts.  Tan. 
Then let her not give place to these desires.  Lucr. 
She craves the right that nature challengeth.  Tan. 
Tell her the king commandeth otherwise.  Lucr. 
The king's commandment always should be just.  Tan. 
whate'er it be the king's command is just.  Lucr. 
just to command: but justly must he charge.  Tanc. 
He chargeth justly that commands as king.  Lucr. 
The king's command concerns the body best.  Tan. 
The king commands obedience of the mind.  Luc. 
That is exempted by the law of kind,  Tan. 
That law of kind to children doth belong.  Luc, 
In due obedience to their open wrong.  Tan. 
I then, as king and father, will command.  Luc. 
No more than may with right of reason stand.  Tan. 

Thou knowest our mind, resolve her, depart,  
Return the chase, we have been chased enough.   Tancred returneth into his palace, & leaveth the hunt. Luc. 

He cannot hear, anger hath stopped his ears,  
And overlove his judgement hath decayed.  
Ah my poor Niece, I shrewdly fear thy cause.  
Thy just complaint shall never be relieved.   Gismunda cometh alone out of her chamber.  

Scaena 3.  Gis. 

BY this I hope my aunt hath moved the king.  
And knows his mind, & makes return to me  
To end at once all this perplexity.  
Lo where she stands. Oh how my trembling heart  
In doubtful thoughts panteth within my breast.  
For in her message doth rely my smart,  
Or the sweet quiet of my troubled mind.   Luc. 

Niece, on the point you lately willed me  
To treat of with the king in your behalf,  
I broke even now with him so far, till he  
In sudden rage of grief, ere I scarce had  
My tale out told, prayed me to stint my suit,  
As that from which his mind abhorred most.  
And well I see his fancy to refute,  
Is but displeasure gained, and labour lost.  
So firmly fixed stands his kingly will,  
That till his body shallbe laid in grave,  
He will not part from the desired sight  
Of your presence, which silder he should have,  
If he had once allied you again,  
In marriage to any prince or peer.  
This is his final resolution.   Gis. 

A resolution that resolves my blood  
Into the Icy drops of Lethe's flood,   Luc. 

Therefore my counsel is, you shall not stir,  
Nor further wade in such a case as this:  
But since his will, is grounded on your love,  
And that it lies in you, to save or spill,  
His old forewasted age: you ought t'eschew,  
The thing that grieves so much his crazed heart,  
And in the state you stand, content yourself:  
And let this thought, appease your troubled mind,  
That in your hands, relies your father's death,  
Or blissful life, and since without your sight,  
He cannot live, nor can his thoughts endure,  
Your hope of marriage, you must then relent,  
And overrule these fond affections:  
lest it be said, you wrought your father's end.   Gis. 

Dear Aunt, I have with patient ears endured,  
The hearing of my father's hard behest:  
And since I see, that neither I myself,  
Nor your request, can so prevail with him,  
Nor any sage advice persuade his mind  
To grant me my desire, In willing wise,  
I must submit me unto his command,  
And frame my heart to serve his majesty.  
And (as I may) to drive away the thoughts  
That diversly distract my passions,  
Which as I can, I'll labour to subdue,  
But sore I fear, I shall but toil in vain,  
Wherein (good aunt) I must desire your pain.   Luc. 

What lies in me by comfort or advice,  
I shall discharge with all humility.   Gismund and Lucre depart into gismund's chamber. Chorus primus. 
Who marks our former times and present years,  
What we are now, and looks what we have been,  
He cannot but lament with bitter tears,  
The great decay and change of all women.  
For as the world wore on and waxed old,  
So virtue quailed, and vice began to grow.  
So that, that age, that whilom was of gold,  
Is worse than brass, more vile than iron now,  
The times were such, that if we ought believe  
Of elder days) women examples were,  
Of rare virtues: Lucre disdained to live  
Longer than chaste: and boldly without fear  
Took sharp revenge on her enforced heart,  
With her own hands: for that it not withstood  
The wanton will, but yielded to the force  
Of proud Tarquin, who bought her fame with blood.  Chor. 2. 
Queen Artemissa thought an heap of stones,  
Although they were the wonder of that age)  
A worthless grave, wherein to rest the bones  
Of her dear Lord, but with bold courage,  
She drank his heart, and made her lovely breast  
His tomb, and failed not of wifely faith,  
Of promised love, and of her bound behest,  
Until she ended had her days by death.  
Ulysses' wife (such was her steadfastness)  
Abode his slow return whole twenty years:  
And spent her youthful days in pensiveness,  
Bathing her widows bed with brinish tears.  Chor. 3 
The stout daughter of Cato Brutus' wife, Portia  
When she had heard his death, did not desire  
Longer to live: and lacking use of knife,  
(A most strange thing) ended her life by fire,  
And eat hot burning coals: O worthy dame!  
O virtues worthy of eternal praise!  
The flood of Lethe cannot wash out thy fame,  
To others great reproach, shame, and dispraise.  Chor. 4 
Rare are those virtues now in women's mind,  
Where shall we seek such jewels passing strange?  
Scarce can you now among a thousand find  
One woman steadfast: all delight in change.  
Mark but this princess that lamented here,  
Of late so sore her noble husband's death,  
And thought to live alone without a fere,  
Behold how soon she changed hath that breath.  
I think those Ladies that have lived tofore,  
A mirror and a glass to women kind,  
By those their virtues they did set such store,  
That unto us they none bequeathed behind.  
Else in so many years we might have seen  
As virtuous as ever they have been.  Chor. 1 
Yet let not us maidens condemn our kind,  
Because our virtues are not all so rare:  
For we may freshly yet record in mind,  
There lives a virgin, one without compare:  
Who of all graces hath her heavenly share.  
In whose renown, and for whose happy days,  
Let us record this Paean of her praise.  Cantant.  
Finis Actus 2.  Per Hen. No.  

Actus. 3.  

Scaena. 1.  Cupid. 

SO, now they feel what lordly love can d  
that proudly practise to deface his name  
in vain they wrestle with so fierce a foe,  
of little sparks arise a blazing flame.  
"By small occasions love can kindle heat,  
" and waste the Oaken breast to cinder dust:   Gismund 

I have enticed to forget  
her widows weeds, and burn in raging lust:  
'twas I enforced her father to deny  
her second marriage to any peer:  
'twas I allured her once again to try  
the sour sweets that lovers buy too dear.  
The County Palurin, a man right wise,  
a man of exquisite perfections:  
I have like wounded with her piercing eyes,  
and burned her heart with his reflections.  
These two shall joy in tasting of my sweet,  
to make them prove more feelingly the grief  
That bitter brings: for when their joys shall fleet,  
their dole shallbe increased without relief.  
Thus love shall make worldlings to know his might,  
thus love shall force great princes to obey.  
Thus love shall daunt each proud rebelling spirit,  
thus love shall wreak his wrath on their decay.  
Their ghosts shall do black hell to understand,  
how great and wonderful a God is Love:  
And this shall learn the Ladies of this land,  
with patient minds his mighty power to prove.  
From whence I did descend now will I mount,  
to jove, and all the Gods in their delights:  
In throne of triumph there will I recount,  
how I by sharp revenge on mortal wights,  
Have taught the earth, and learned hellish spirits  
to yield with fear their stubborn hearts to love:  
lest their disdain, his plagues and vengeance prove   Cupid remounteth into the heavens. Lucrece cometh out of Gismund's Chamber solitary.  

Scaena. 2.  Luc. 

pity, that moveth every gentle heart,  
To rue their griefs, that be distressed in pain,  
Enforceth me, to wail my nieces smart,  
Whose tender breast, no long time may sustain,  
The restless toil, that her unquiet mind,  
Hath caused her feeble body to endure,  
But why it is, (alack) I must not find,  
Nor know the man, by whom I might procure  
Her remedy, as I of duty ought,  
As to the law of kindship, doth belong,  
With careful heart, the secret means I sought,  
Though small effect, is of my travel sprung:  
Full often as I durst, I have assayed,  
With humble words, the princes to require,  
To name the man, which she hath so denayed,  
That it abashed me, further to desire,  
Or ask from whence, those cloudy thoughts proceed,  
Whose stony force: that smoky sighs forth send.  
Is lively witness, how that careful dread,  
And hot desire, within her do contend.  
Yet she denies, what she confessed of yore,  
And then conjoined me, to conceal the same:  
She loved once, (she saith) but never more,  
Nor ever will, her fancy thereto frame:  
Though daily, I observed in my breast,  
What sharp conflicts, disquiet her so sore,  
That heavy sleep cannot procure her rest,  
But fearful dreams present her evermore  
Most hideous sights her quiet to molest.  
That starting oft therewith she doth awake,  
to muse upon those fancies which torment  
Her thoughtful heart with horror, that doth make  
Her cold chill sweat break forth incontinent  
From her weak limbs: and while the quiet night  
Gives others rest, she turning to and fro  
Doth wish for day. But when the day brings light,  
She keeps her bed, there to record her woe.  
As soon as when she riseth flowing tears  
Stream down her cheeks, immixed with deadly groans  
Whereby her inward sorrow so appears,  
That as salt tears the cruel cause bemoans.  
In case she be constrained to abide  
In press of company, she scarcely may  
Her trembling voice restrain it be not spied  
From careful plaints her sorrows to bewray.  
By which restraint the force doth so increase,  
When time and place give liberty to plain.  
That as small streams from running never cease,  
Till they return into the seas again:  
So her laments we fear will not amend,  
Before they bring her Princely life to end.  
To others talk whenas she should attend,  
Her heaped cares her senses so oppress,  
That what they speak, or whereto their words tend  
She knows not, as her answers do express.  
Her chief delight is still to be alone,  
Her pensive thoughts within themselves debate,  
But whereupon this restless life is grown,  
Since I know not nor how the same t'abate.  
I can no more but wish it as I may,  
That he which knows it would the same allay,  
For which the Muses with my song shall pray.   After the song, which was by report very sweetly repeated of the Chorus, Lucrece departeth into gismund's chamber, and Guiszard cometh out of the Palace with julio & Renuchio, gentlemen, to whom he turneth, and saith.  

Scaena. 3.  Guis. 

Leave me my friends, this solitary walk  
enticeth me to break your company.  
Leave me my friends, I can endure no talk.  
Let me entreat this common courtesy.   The Gentlemen depart. 

WHat grievous pain they dure which neither may  
Forget their Loves, x yet enjoy their love.  
I know by proof, and daily make assay,  
Though Love hath brought my Lady's heart to love  
My faithful love with like love to requite:  
This doth not quench, but rather cause to flame  
The creeping fire, which spreading in my breast  
With raging heat, grants me no time of rest.  
If they bewail their cruel destiny,  
Which spend their love where they no love can find  
Well may I plain, since Fortune haileth me  
To this torment of far more grievous kind.  
Wherein I feel as much extremity,  
As may be felt in body or in mind.  
For by that sight which should recure my pain,  
My sorrows are redoubled all in vain.  
Now I perceive that only I alone  
Am her beloved, her looks assure me so:  
The thought thereof provokes me to bemoan  
Her heavy plight that grieveth at my woe.  
This intercourse of our affections:  
I her to serve, she thus to honour me,  
Bewrays the truth of our elections,  
Delighting in this mutual sympathy.  
Thus love for love entreats the Queen of love,  
That with her help Loves solace we may prove.  
I see my mistress seeks as well as I  
To stay the strife of her perplexed mind:  
Full fain she would our secret company,  
If she the wished way thereof might find.  
heavens have ye seen, or hath the age of man  
Recorded such a miracle as this?  
In equal love two noble hearts to frame,  
That never spoke one with another's bliss,  
I am assured that she doth assent,  
To my relief that I should reap the same,  
If she could frame the means of my content,  
Keeping herself from danger of defame.  
In happy hour right now I did receive  
This cane from her: which gift though it be small,  
Receiving it what joys I did conceive,  
Within my fainting spirit therewithal,  
Who knoweth love aright may well conceive,  
By like adventures that to them befall.  
"For needs the Lover must esteem that well,  
" Which comes from her with whom his heart doth dwell.  
Assuredly it is not without cause  
She gave me this: something she meant thereby:  
For therewithal I might perceive her pause  
Awhile, as though some weighty thing did lie  
Upon her heart, which he concealed, because  
The standers by should not our loves descry.  
This cleft bewrays that it hath been disclosed.  
Perhaps herein she hath something enclosed.   He breaks it. 

O thou great thunderer! who would not serve,  
Where wit with beauty chosen have their place,  
Who could devise more wisely to conserve  
Things from suspect? O Venus, for this grace  
That deigns me, all unworthy, to deserve  
So rare a love, in heaven I should thee place.  
This sweet letter some joyful news contains.  
I hope it brings recure to both our pains.   He reads it. 

Mine own, as I am yours, whose hear: (I know)  
No less than mine, for lingering help of woe  
Doth long too long: Love tendering your case  
And mine, hath taught recure of both our pain.  
My chamber flower doth hide a cave, where was  
An old vaults mouth: the other in the plain  
doth rise Southward, a furlong from the wall,  
Descend you there. This shall suffice. And so  
I yield myself, mine honour, life and all,  
To you. Use you the same as there may grow  
Your bliss and mine (mine Earl) and that the same  
Free may abide from danger of defame.  
Farewell, and fare so well as that your joy  
Which only can, may comfort mine annoy.  
Yours more than his own, Gismund.   

O blissful chance my sorrows to assuage.  
Wonder of nature, marvel of our age,  
Comes this from Gismund? did she thus enfold  
This letter in the cane? may it be so?  
It were too sweet a joy, I am deceived.  
Why shall I doubt, did she not give it me?  
Therewith she smiled, she joyed, she raught the cane  
And with her own sweet hand she gave it me:  
And as we danced, she dallied with the cane,  
And sweetly whispered I should be her king,  
And with this cane the sceptre of our rule,  
Command the sweets of her surprised heart.  
Therewith she raught from her alluring locks,  
This golden tress, the favour of her grace,  
And with her own sweet hand she gave it me.  
O peerless Queen, my joy, my heart's decree;  
And thou fair Letter, how shall I welcome thee:  
Both hand and pen wherewith thou written wert,  
Blessed may ye be, such solace that impart,  
And blessed be this cane, and he that taught  
Thee to descry the hidden entry thus:  
Not only through a dark and dreadful vault,  
But fire and sword, and through whatever be,  
Mistress of my desires, I come to thee.   Guiszard departeth in haste unto the palace. Chorus. 1. 
Right mighty is thy power, O cruel Love,  
High jove himself cannot resist thy bow,  
Thou sentest him down, even from the heavens above,  
In sundry shapes here to the earth below,  
Then how shall mortal men escape thy dart?  
The fervent flame, and burning of thy fire?  
Since that thy might is such, and since thou art,  
Both of the seas and land the Lord and sire.  Chor. 2 
But why doth he that sprung from jove's high head?  
And Phoebus sister sheen, despise thy power?  
x fears thy bow? why have they always led  
A maiden life, and kept untouched the flower?  
Why doth Aegistus love? and to obtain  
His wicked will, conspires his uncles death,  
Or why doth Phaedra burn? for whom is slain  
Theseus chaste son? or Helen false of faith?  
"For Love assaults not but the idle heart,  
" And such as live in pleasure and delight,  
"He turneth oft their gladsome joys to smart,  
" Their play to plaint, their sport into despite,  
'tis true that Dian chaseth with her bow,  Chor. 3. 
The flying Hart, the Goat and foamy Boar,  
By hill, by dale, in heat, in frost, in snow,  
She recketh not, but laboureth evermore.  
Love seeks not her, x knoweth where her to find,  
Whilst Paris kept his herd on Ida down  
Cupid near sought him out, for he is blind.  
But when he left the field to live in town,  
He fell into his snare, and brought that brand  
From Greece to Troy, which after set on fire  
Strong Ilium, and all the Phryges' land:  
"Such are the fruits of love, such is his hire.  Chor. 4. 
Who yieldeth unto him his captive heart,  
Ere he resist, and holds his open breast  
Withouten war to take his bloody dart,  
Let him not think to shake off when him list  
His heavy yoke. "Resist his first assault,  
" Weak is his bow, his quenched brand is cold,  
"Cupid is but a child, and cannot daunt  
" The mind that bears him, or his virtues bold.  
But he gives poison so to drink in gold.  
And hideth under pleasant baits his hook,  
But ye beware, it will be hard to hold  
Your greedy minds, but if ye wisely look  
What sly snake lurks under those flowers gay,  
But ye mistrust some cloudy smokes, and fear  
A stormy shower after so fair a day.  
Ye may repent, and buy your pleasure dear,  
For seldom times is Cupid wont to send  
"Unto an idle love a joyful end.   
Finis Actus 3.  G. Al.  

Actus. 3.  

Scaena. 1.  Before this Act Megara riseth out of hell, with the other Furies, Allecto and Tysyphone, dancing an hellish round: which done she saith. 

SIsters be gone, bequeath the rest to me,  
That yet belongs unto this tragedy.   The two Furies depart down. 

Vengeance and death from forth the deepest hell  
I bring the cursed house where Gismund dwells.  
Sent from the grisly god that holds his reign  
In Tartar's ugly Realm, where Pelops sire  
(Who with his own sons flesh whom he had slain  
Did feast the Gods) with famine hath his hire.  
To gape and catch at flying fruits in vain,  
And yielding waters to his gasping throat,  
Where stormy Aeoles son with endless pain  
roll up the rock: where Titius hath his lot  
To feed the Gripe that gnaws his growing heart.  
Where proud Ixion whirled on the wheel,  
Pursues himself: where due deserved smart  
The damned Ghosts in burning flame do feel,  
From thence I mount: thither the winged God,  
Nephew to Atlas, that upholds the sky,  
Of late down from the earth, with golden rod,  
To Stygian Firrie, Salerne souls did guide,  
And made report, how Love that lordly boy,  
Highly disdaining his renowns decay,  
Slipped down from heaven, have filled with fickle joy,  
gismund's heart, and made her throw away  
Chasteness of life, to her immortal shame,  
Minding to show by proof of her foul end,  
Some terror unto those that scorn his name,  
Black Pluto (that once found Cupid his friend  
In winning Ceres' daughter Queen of hells)  
And Parthie moved by the grieved Ghost  
Of her late husband, that in Tartar dwells,  
Who prayed due pains for her, that thus hath lost  
All care of him, and of her chastity,  
The Senate then of hell by grave advice  
Of Minos, Aeac, and of Radamanth,  
Commands me draw this hateful air, and rise  
Above the earth, with dole and death to daunt  
The pride and present joys, wherewith these two  
Feed their disdained hearts, which now to do  
Behold I come, with instruments of death.  
This stinging snake which is of hate and wrath,  
I'll fix upon her father's heart full fast,  
And into hers, this other will I cast,  
Whose rankling venom shall infect them so  
With envious wrath, and with recureless woe  
Each shall be others plague and overthrow.  
Furies must aid when men surcease to know  
Their gods: and hell sends forth revenging pain  
On those whom shame from sin cannot restrain.   Megaera entereth into the palace, and meeteth with Tancred coming out of gismund's chamber with Renuchio and julia, upon whom she throweth her Snake.  

Scaena. 2.  Tan. 

GOds are ye guides of justice and revenge?  
O thou great Thunderer, dost thou behold  
With watchful eyes the subtle scapes of men  
Hardened in shame, seared up in the desire  
Of their own lusts: why then dost thou withhold  
The blast of thy revenge? why dost thou grant  
Such lively breath, such lewd occasion  
To execute their shameless villainy?  
Thou, thou art cause of all this open wrong,  
Thou that forbearest thy vengeance all too long,  
If thou spare them rain then upon my head  
The fullness of thy plagues with deadly ire,  
To reave this ruthful soul, who all too sore  
Burns in the wrathful torments of revenge.  
O earth the mother of each living wight,  
Open thy womb, devour this withered corpse,  
And thou O hell, (if other hell there be  
Then that I feel) receive my soul to thee.  
O daughter, daughter, wherefore do I grace  
Her with so kind a name? O thou fond girl,  
The shameful ruin of thy father's house,  
Is this my hoped joy? is this the stay  
Must glad my grief-full years that waste away?  
For life which first thou didst receive from me,  
Ten thousand deaths shall I receive by thee?  
For all the joys I did repose in thee,  
Which I (fond man) did settle in thy sight,  
Is this my recompense? that I must see  
The thing so shameful, and so villainous,  
That would to God this earth had swallowed  
This worthless burden into lowest deeps,  
Rather than I (accursed) had beheld  
The sight that hourly massacres my life.  
O whether, whether fliest thou forth my soul?  
O whether wandereth my tormented mind?  
Those pains that make the miser glad of death  
Have seized on me, and yet I cannot have  
What villains may command, a speedy death.  
Whom shall I first accuse for this outrage?  
That God that guideth all, and guideth so  
This damned deed. Shall I blaspheme their names?  
The gods the authors of this spectacle:  
Or shall I justly curse that cruel star  
Whose influence assigned this destiny?  
But nay, that traitor, shall that vile wretch live  
By whom I have received this injury?  
Or shall I longer make account of her  
That fondly prostitutes her widows shame?  
I have bethought me what I shall request.   He kneels. 

On bended knees, with hands heaved up to heaven  
This (sacred senate of the Gods) I crave,  
First on the traitor your consuming ire:  
Next, on the cursed strumpet dire revenge:  
Last, on myself, the wretched father, shame.   He riseth. 

Oh could I stamp, and therewithal command  
Armies of Furies to assist my heart,  
To prosecute due vengeance on their souls.  
Hear me my friends, but as ye love your lives,  
Reply not to me, hearken and stand amazed,  
When I (as is my wont) oh fond delight,  
Went forth to seek my daughter, now my death,  
Within her chamber (as I thought) she was,  
But there I found her not, I deemed then  
For her disport she and her maidens were  
Down to the garden walked to comfort them,  
And thinking thus, it came into my mind  
There all alone to tarry her return:  
And thereupon I (weary) threw myself  
Upon her widows bed (for so I thought)  
And in the curtain wrapped my cursed head.  
Thus as I lay anon I might behold  
Out of the vault up through her chamber floor  
My daughter Gismund bringing hand in hand  
The County Palurin, alas it is too true,  
At her bed's feet this traitor made me see  
Her shame, his treason, and my deadly grief.  
Her Princely body yielded to this thief.  
The high despite whereof so wounded me  
That trance-like, as a senseless stone I lay,  
For neither wit, nor tongue could use the mean  
T' express the passions of my pained heart.  
Forceless, perforce, I sunk down to this pain,  
As greedy famine doth constrain the hawk,  
Piecemeal to rent and tear the yielding pray:  
So fared it with me in that heavy stound,  
But now what shall I do? how may I seek  
To ease my mind that burneth with desire  
Of dire revenge? For never shall my thoughts  
Grant ease unto my heart, till I have found  
A mean of vengeance to requite his pains,  
That first conveyed this sight unto my soul.   Tan. 
Renuchio.  Renu. 
What is your highness will?  Tan. 

Call my daughter: my heart boils till I see  
Her in my sight, to whom I may discharge  
All the unrest that thus distempereth me.  
Should I destroy them both? O gods ye know  
How near and dear our daughter is to us.  
And yet my rage persuades me to imbrue  
My thirsty hands in both their trembling bloods,  
Therewith to cool my wrathful furies heat.  
But Nature, why repinest thou at this thought?  
Why should I think upon a father's debt  
To her that thought not on a daughter's due?  
But still methinks if I should see her die,  
And therewithal reflex her dying eyes  
Upon mine eyes, that sight would slit my heart.  
Not much unlike the Cockatrice, that slays  
The object of his foul infections.  
Oh what a conflict doth my mind endure?  
Now fight my thoughts against my passions:  
Now strive my passions against my thoughts.  
Now sweats my heart, now chill cold falls it dead.  
Help heavens, and succour ye Celestial powers,  
Infuse your secret virtue on my soul.  
Shall nature win? shall justice not prevail?  
Shall I (a king) be proved partial?  
"How shall our Subjects then insult on us,  
" When our examples (that are light to them)  
"shallbe eclipsed with our proper deeds?  
And may the arms be rented from the tree?  
The members from the body be dissevered?  
And can the heart endure no violence?  
My daughter is to me mine only heart,  
My life, my comfort, my continuance,  
Shall I be then not only so unkind  
To pass all nature's strength, and cut her off.  
But therewithal so cruel to myself,  
Against all law of kind to shred in twain  
The golden thread that doth us both maintain.  
But were it that my rage should so command,  
And I consent to her untimely death,  
Were this an end to all our miseries?  
No, no, her ghost will still pursue our life.  
And from the deep her bloodless ghastful spirit  
Will as my shadow in the shining day,  
Follow my footsteps till she take revenge.  
I will do thus therefore: the traitor dies,  
Because he scorned the favour of his king,  
And our displeasure wilfully incurred:  
His slaughter, with her sorrow for his blood,  
Shall to our rage supply delightful food.   julio. Iul. 
What be't your Majesty commands?  Tan. 

julio, if we have not our hope in vain,  
Nor all the trust we do repose in thee:  
Now must we try if thou approve the same.  
Herein thy force and wisdom we must see,  
For our command requires them both of thee.   Iul. 

How by your grace's bounty I am bound,  
Beyond the common bond wherein each man  
Stands bound unto his king, how I have found  
Honour and wealth by favour in your sight,  
I do acknowledge with most thankful mind.  
My truth (with other means to serve your Grace,  
whatever you in honour shall assign)  
Hath sworn her power true vassal to your hest,  
For proof let but your Majesty command  
I shall unlock the prison of my soul,  
(Although unkindly horror would gainsay)  
Yet in obedience to your highness will,  
By whom I hold the tenor of this life,  
This hand and blade will be the instruments,  
To make pale death to grapple with my heart.   Tan. 

Well, to be short (for I am grieved too long  
By wrath without revenge) I think you know  
Whilom a Palace builded strong  
For war, within our Court, where dreadless peace  
Hath planted now a weaker entrance.  
But of that palace yet one vault remains,  
Within our Court, the secret way whereof  
Is to our daughter gismund's chamber laid:  
There is also another mouth hereof,  
Without our wall: which now is overgrown,  
But you may find it out, for yet it lies  
Directly South a furlong from our place:  
It may be known, hard by an ancient stoop,  
Where grew an Oak in elder days decayed,  
There will we that you watch, there shall you see  
A villain traitor mount out of a vault:  
Bring him to us, it is th'earl Palurin,  
What is his fault neither shall you inquire,  
Nor list we to disclose, these cursed eyes  
Have seen the flame, this heart hath felt the fire  
That cannot else be quenched but with his blood.  
This must be done: this will we have you do.   Iul. 
Both this, and else whatever you think good.  julio departeth into the Palace. Renugio bringeth Gismund out of her chamber, to whom Tancred saith.  

Scaena 3.  
REnugio depart, leave us alone.  Exit Renugio. 

Gismund, if either I could cast aside  
All care of thee: or if thou wouldst have had  
Some care of me, it would not now betide  
That either thorough thy fault my joy should fade,  
Or by thy folly I should bear the pain  
Thou hast procured: but now 'tis neither I  
Can shun the grief: whom thou hast more than slain  
Nor mayst thou heal, or ease the grievous wound,  
Which thou hast given me. That unstained life  
Wherein I joyed, and thought it thy delight,  
Why hast thou lost it? Can it be restored?  
Where is thy widowhood, there is thy shame.  
Gismund, it is no man's, nor men's report,  
That have by likely proofs informed me thus.  
Thou knowest how hardly I could be induced  
To vex myself, and be displeased with thee,  
With flying tales of flattering sycophants.  
No, no, there was in us such settled trust  
Of thy chaste life, and uncorrupted mind:  
That if these eyes had not beheld thy shame,  
In vaine ten thousand censures could have told,  
That thou didst once unprincelike make agree  
With that vile traitor County Palurin.  
Without regard had to thyself or me,  
unshamefastly to stain thy state and mine.  
But I unhappiest have beheld the same,  
And seeing it, yet feeleth 'exceeding grief  
That slays my heart with horror of that thought.  
Which grief commands me to obey my rage,  
And justice urgeth some extreme revenge,  
To wreak the wrongs that have been offered us.  
But Nature that hath locked within thy breast  
Two lives: the same inclineth me to spare  
Thy blood, and so to keep mine own unspilled.  
This is that overweening-love I bear  
To thee undutiful, and undeserved.  
But for that traitor, he shall surely die,  
For neither right nor nature doth entreat  
For him, that wilfully without all awe  
Of gods, or men, or of our deadly hate,  
Incurred the just displeasure of his king.  
And to be brief, I am content to know  
What for thyself thou canst object to us,  
Why thou shouldst not together with him die,  
So to assuage the griefs that overthrow  
Thy father's heart.   Gis. 

O king, and father, humbly give her leave  
To plead for grace, that stands in your disgrace.  
Not that she recks this life: for I confess  
I have deserved, when so it pleaseth you,  
To die the death. Mine honour and my name  
(As you suppose) distained with reproach,  
And well contented shall I meet the stroke  
That must dissever this detested head  
From these lewd limbs. But this I wish were known  
That now I live not for myself alone.  
For when I saw that neither my request,  
Nor the entreaty of my careful Aunt,  
Could win your highness pleasure to our will:  
"Than Love, heat of the heart, life of the soul,  
" Fed by desire, increasing by restraint,  
Would not endure controlment any more:  
But violently enforced my feebled heart.  
For who am I alas, still to resist  
Such endless conflicts? To relent and yield  
Therewith I chose him for my Lord and fere.  
Guiszard mine Earl that holds my love full dear,  
Then if it be so settled in your mind,  
He shall not live because he dared to love  
Your daughter. Thus I give your Grace to know  
Within his heart there is enclosed my life.  
Therefore O father, if that name may be  
Sweet to your ears, and that we may prevail  
By name of father, that you favour us.  
But otherwise, if now we cannot find  
That which our falsed hope did promise us.  
Why then proceed, and rid our trembling hearts  
Of these suspicions: since neither in this case  
His good deserts in service to your Grace,  
Which always have been just, nor in desires  
May mitigate the cruel rage of grief.  
That strains your heart, but that mine Earl must die  
Then all in vain you ask what I can say  
Why I should live, sufficeth for my part  
To say I will not live, and so resolve.   Tan. 
Dar'st thou so desperate decree thy death.  Gis 
A dreadless heart delights in such decrees.  Tan. 
Thy kind abhorreth such unkindly thoughts.  Gis. 

Unkindly thoughts they are to them that live  
In kindly love.   Tan. 
As I do unto thee.  Gis. 
To take his life who is my love to me.  Tan. 
Have I then lost thy love?  Gis. 

If he shall lose  
His life, that is my love.   Tan. 

Thy love. Be gone.  
Return unto thy chamber.   Gis. 
I will go.  Gismund departeth to her chamber. julio with his guard bringeth in the County Pal. prisoner  

Scaena. 4.  Iu. 

IF it please your highness hither have we brought  
This captive Earl as you commanded us.  
Whom (as we were foretold) even there we found  
Where by your majesty we were enjoined  
To watch for him. What more your highness wills,  
This heart and hand shall execute your hest.   Tan. 

julio we thank your pains. Ah Palurin,  
Have we deserved in such traitorous sort  
Thou shouldst abuse our kingly courtesies,  
Which we too long in favour have bestowed  
Upon thy false-dissembling heart with us.  
What grief thou therewithal hast thrown on us  
What shame upon a house, what dire distress,  
Our soul endures, cannot be uttered.  
And durst thou villain dare to undermine  
Our daughter's chamber, durst thy shameless face  
Be bold to kiss her: th'rest we will conceal.  
Sufficeth that thou knowest I too well know  
All thy proceedings in thy private shames.  
herein what hast thou won? thine own content,  
With the displeasure of thy Lord and king.  
The thought whereof if thou hadst had in mind  
The least remorse of love and loyalty  
Might have restrained thee from so foul a fact.  
But Palurin, what may I deem of thee,  
Whom neither fear of gods, nor love of him  
(Whose Princely favour hath been thine uprear)  
Could quench the fuel of thy lewd desires.  
Wherefore content thee that we are resolved  
(And therefore laid to snare thee with this bait)  
That thy just death, with thine effused blood,  
Shall cool the heat and choler of our mood.   Guiz. 

My Lord the King, neither do I mislike  
Your sentence, nor do your smoking sighs  
Reached from the entrails of your boiling heart,  
Disturb the quiet of my calmed thoughts:  
For this I feel, and by experience prove,  
Such is the force and endless might of love,  
As never shall the dread of carrion death  
That hath envied our joys, invade my breast,  
For if it may be found a fault in me  
(That evermore have loved your Majesty)  
Likewise to honour and to love your child,  
If love unto you both may be a fault,  
That unto her my love exceeds compare,  
Than this hath been my fault, for which I joy  
That in the greatest lust of all my life,  
I shall submit for her sake to endure  
The pangs of death. Oh mighty Lord of love  
Strengthen thy vassal, boldly to receive  
Large wounds into this body for her sake.  
Then use my life or death, my Lord and king,  
For your relief to ease your grieved soul:  
For whether I live, or else that I must die,  
To end your pains I am content to bear:  
Knowing by death I shall bewray the truth  
Of that sound heart which living was her own,  
And died alive for her that lived mine,   Tan. 

Thine Palurin, what, lives my daughter thine?  
Traitor thou wrong'st me, for she liveth mine.  
Rather I wish ten thousand sundry deaths,  
Than I to live and see my daughter thine.  
Thine, that is dearer than my life to me?  
Thine, whom I hope to see an Empress?  
Thine, whom I cannot pardon from my sight?  
Thine, unto whom we have bequeathed our crown?  
julio, we will that thou inform from us  
Renuchio the Captain of our Guard,  
That we command this traitor be conveyed  
Into the dungeon underneath our Tower,  
There let him rest until he be resolved  
What further we intend, which to understand,  
We will Renuchio repair to us.   Iul. 

O that I might your Majesty entreat  
With clemency to beautify your seat,  
Toward this Prince distressed by his desires,  
Too many, all too strong to captivate   Tan. 

"This is the soundest safety for a king  
" To cut them off that vex or hinder him.   Iul. 

"This have I found the safety of a king,  
" To spare the Subjects that do honour him.   Tan. 
Have we been honoured by this lechers lust?  Iul. 
No, but by this devout submission.  Tan. 
Our fortune says we must do what we may.  jul 
"This is praise-worth, not to do what you may.  Tan. 
And may the Subject countermand the king?  Iul. 
No, but entreat him.  Tan. 
What he shall decree.  Iul. 
What wisdom shall discern.  Iul. 

Nay what our word  
Shall best determine. We will not reply.  
Thou knowest our mind, our heart cannot be eased,  
But with the slaughter of this Palurin.   The king hasteth into his Palace. Guis. 

O thou great God, who from thy highest throne  
Hast stooped down, and felt the force of love,  
Bend gentle ears unto the woeful moan,  
Of me poor wretch, to grant that I require:  
Help to persuade the same great God, that he  
So far remit his might, and slack his fire  
From my dear lady's kindled heart, that she  
May hear my death without her hurt,  
Her face, wherein there is as clear a light  
As in the rising moon: let not her cheeks  
As red as is the particoloured rose.  
Be paled with the news hereof and so  
I yield myself, my silly soul, and all,  
To him, for her, for whom my death shall show  
I lived, and as I lived, I died her thrall.  
Grant this thou Thunderer: this shall suffice,  
My breath to vanish in the liquid skies.   Guizard is led to prison. Chorus primus. 

Who doth not know the fruits of Paris love,  
Nor understand the end of Helen's joy,  
He may behold the fatal overthrow  
Of Priam's house, and of the town of Troy.  
His death at last, and her eternal shame,  
For whom so many a noble knight was slain.  
So many a Duke, so many a Prince of fame  
Bereft his life, and left there in the plain.  
Medea's armed hand, Eliza's sword,  
Wretched Leander drenched in the flood.  
Phillis so long that waited for her Lord  
All these too dearly bought their loves with blood.   Cho. 2. 

But he in virtue that his Lady serves  
Newils but what unto her Honour longs,  
He never from the rule of reason swerves,  
He feeleth not the pangs, x raging throngs  
Of blind Cupid: he lives not in despair  
As done his servants: neither spends his days  
In joy, and care, vain hope, and throbbing fear.  
But seeks always what may his sovereign please  
In honour: he that thus serves, reaps the fruit  
Of his sweet service: and no jealous dread  
Nor base suspect of aught to let his suit  
(Which causeth oft the lovers heart to bleed)  
Doth fret his mind, or burneth in his breast:  
He waileth not by day, nor wakes by night,  
When every other living thing doth rest.  
Nor finds his life or death within her sight.   Cho. 3. 

Remember thou in virtue serve therefore  
Thy chaste Lady: beware thou do not love  
As whilom Venus did the fair Adonne,  
But as Diana loved the Amazons son.  
Through whose request the gods to him alone  
Restored new life: the twine that was undone  
Was by the sisters twisted up again.  
The love of virtue in thy lady's looks,  
The love of virtue in her learned talk,  
This love yields matter for eternal books.  
This love enticeth him abroad to walk,  
There to invent and write new rondelays  
Of learned conceit, her fancies to allure  
To vain delights, such humours he allays,  
And sings of virtue and her garments pure.   Cho. 4. 

Desire not of thy Sovereign the thing  
Whereof shame may ensue by any mean:  
Nor wish thou aught that may dishonour bring.  
So whilom did the learned Tuscan serve  
His fair Lady: and glory was their end.  
Such are the praises Lovers done deserve,  
Whose service doth to virtue and honour tend.    
Finis Actus 4.  Composuit Ch. Hat.  

Actus 5.  

Scaena 1.  Renuchio cometh out of the Palace. Renu. 

OH cruel fate, oh miserable chance  
Oh dire aspect of hateful destinies,  
Oh woe may not be told: sufficed it not  
That I should see and with these eyes behold  
So foul, so bloody, and so base a deed:  
But more to aggravate the heavy cares  
Of my perplexed mind, must only I  
Must I alone be made the messenger,  
That must deliver to her Princely ears  
Such dismal news? as when I shall disclose  
I know it cannot but abridge her days.  
As when the thunderer and three forked fire  
Rent through the clouds by jove's almighty power  
Breaks up the bosom of our mother earth,  
And burns her heart before the heat be felt.  
In this distress whom should I most bewail,  
My woe, that must be made the messenger  
Of these unworthy and unwelcome news?  
Or shall I moan thy death, O noble Earl?  
Or shall I still lament the heavy hap  
That yet, O Queen, attends thy funeral.   Cho. 1. 

What moans be these? Renuchio is this Salerne I see?  
Doth hear king Tancred hold the awful crown?  
Is this the place where civil people be?  
Or do the savage Scythians here abound?   Cho. 2. 

What mean these questions? whether tend thes words?  
Resolve us maidens, & release our fears.  
whatever news thou bring'st, discover them,  
Detain us not in this suspicious dread,  
„ The thought whereof is greater than the woe.   Renu. 

O whither may I cast my looks? to heaven?  
Black pitchy clouds from thence rain down revenge  
The earth shall I behold? stained with the gore  
Of his heart blood that died most innocent.  
Which way soe'er I turn mine eyes, methinks  
His butchered corpse stands staring in my face.   Cho. 3. 

We humbly pray thee to forbear these words  
So full of terror to our maiden hearts:  
„ The dread of things unknown breeds the suspect  
„ Of greater dread, until the worst be known.  
Tell therefore what hath chanced, and whereunto  
This bloody cup thou holdest in thy hand.   Renu. 

Since so is your request that I shall do,  
Although my mind so sorrowful a thing  
Repines to tell, and though my voice eschews  
To say what I have seen: yet since your will  
So fixed stands to hear for what I rue,  
Your great desires I shall herein fulfil.  
First by Salerne City, amids the plain,  
There stands a hill, whose bottom huge and round,  
Thrown out in breadth, a large space doth contain  
And gathering up in height small from the ground  
Still less and less it mounts: there sometime was  
A goodly tower upreared, that flowered in fame  
While fate and fortune served, but time doth pass,  
And with his sway suppresseth all the same:  
For now the walls be evened with the plain.  
And all the rest so foully lies defaced:  
As but the only shade doth there remain  
Of that which there was built in time forepast:  
And yet that shows what worthy work tofore  
Hath there been reared: one parcel of that tower  
Yet stands, which eating time could not devour:  
A strong turret compact of stone and rock:  
Huge without, but horrible within:  
To pass to which by force of handy stroke  
A crooked strait is made, that enters in  
And leads into this ugly loathsome place.  
Within the which carved into the ground  
A deep dungeon there runs of narrow space  
Dreadful and dark, where never light is found:  
Into this hollow cave, by cruel hest  
Of king Tancred, were divers servants sent  
To work the horror of his furious breast,  
Erst nourished in his rage, and now stern bent,  
To have the same performed: I woeful man  
Amongst the rest, was one to do the thing  
That to our charge so straightly did belong,  
In sort as was commanded by the king.  
Within which dreadful prison when we came,  
The noble County Palurin that there  
Lay chained in gives, fast fettered in his bolts,  
Out of the dark dungeon we did uprear  
And haled him thence into a brighter place,  
That gave us light to work our tyranny.  
But when I once beheld his manly face,  
And saw his cheer, no more appalled with fear,  
Of present death, than he whom never dread  
Did once amate: my heart abhorred then  
To give consent unto so foul a deed,  
That wretched death should reave so worthy a man  
On false fortune I cried with loud complaint,  
That in such sort overwhelms nobility.  
But he whom never grief x fear could taint,  
With smiling cheer himself oft willeth me,  
To leave to plain his case, or sorrow make,  
For him, for he was far more glad apaid  
Death to embrace thus for his Lady's sake,  
Than life, or all the joys of life he said.  
For loss of life (quoth he) grieves me no more,  
Than loss of that which I esteemed least,  
My Lady's grief, lest she should rue therefore,  
Is all the cause of grief within my breast.  
He prayed therefore that we would make report  
To her of those his last words he would say:  
That though he never could in any sort  
Her gentleness requite, nor never lay  
Within his power to serve her as he would,  
Yet she possessed his heart with hand and might,  
To do her all the honour that he could.  
This was to him of all the joys that might  
Revive his heart, the chiefest joy of all,  
That, to declare the faithful heart which he  
Did bear to her, fortune so well did fall,  
That in her love he should both live and die.  
After these words he stayed, and spoke no more,  
But joyfully beholding us each one,  
His words and cheer amazed us so sore  
That still we stood: when forthwith thereupon  
But why slack you (quoth he) to do the thing  
For which you come? make speed and stay no more  
Perform your master's will: now tell the king  
He hath his life for which he longed so sore:  
And with those words himself with his own hand  
Fastened the bands about his neck. The rest  
Wondering at his stout heart, astonished stand  
To see him offer thus himself to death.  
What stony breast, or what hard heart of flint  
Would not relent to see this dreary sight?  
So goodly a man, whom death nor fortune's dint  
Could once disarm, murdered with such despite.  
And in such sort bereft amidst the flowers  
Of his fresh years, that ruthful was to seen:  
"For violent is death, when he devours  
" Young men, or virgins, while their years be green.  
Lo now our servants seeing him take the bands  
And on his neck himself to make them fast:  
Without delay set to their cruel hands,  
And sought to work their fierce intent with haste,  
They stretch the bloody bands, and when the breath  
Began to fail his breast, they slacked again.  
Thrice did they pull, and thrice they loosed him,  
So did their hands repine against their hearts:  
And oft times losed to his greater pain.  
"But date of death that fixed is so fast,  
" Beyond his course there may no wight extend,  
For strangled is this noble Earl at last,  
Bereft of life, unworthy such an end.   〈◊〉. 
O damned deed.  Ren. 

What deem you this to be  
All the said news that I have to unfold?  
Is here (think you) end of the cruelty  
That I have seen?   Chor. 

Could any heavier woe  
Be wrought to him, than to destroy him so?   Ren. 

What, think you this outrage did end so well?  
The horror of the fact, the greatest grief,  
The massacre, the terror is to tell.   Cho. 

Alack what could be more? they threw percase  
The dead body to be devoured and torn  
Of the wild beasts.   Renu. 

Would God it had been cast a savage pray  
To beasts and birds: but lo, that dreadful thing  
Which even the tiger would not work, but to  
Suffice his hunger: that hath the tyrant king  
Withouten ruth commanded us to do,  
Only to please his wrathful heart withal.  
Happy had been his chance, too happy alas,  
If birds, or beasts had eaten up his corpse,  
Yea heart and all: within this cup I bring,  
And am constrained now unto the face  
Of his dear Lady to present the same.   Chor. 

What kind of cruelty is this you name?  
Declare forthwith, and whereunto doth tend  
This farther plaint.   Ren. 

After his breath was gone,  
Forced perforce thus from his panting breast  
Straight they despoiled him, and not alone  
Contented with his death, on the dead corpse  
Which ravenous beasts forbear to lacerate,  
Even upon this our villains fresh begun  
To show new cruelty: forthwith they pierce  
His naked belly, and unripped it so,  
That out the bowels gushed: who can rehearse  
Their tyranny, wherewith my heart yet bleeds.  
The warm entrails were torn out of his breast.  
Within their hands trembling not fully dead,  
His veins smoked, his bowels all to reeked  
Ruthless were rent, and thrown about the place:  
All clottered lay the blood in lumps of gore,  
Sprent on his corpse, and on his paled face,  
His trembling heart, yet leaping, out they tore,  
And cruelly upon a rapier  
They fixed the same, and in this hateful wise  
Unto the king this heart they do present:  
A sight longed for to feed his ireful eyes.  
The king perceiving each thing to be wrought  
As he had wild, rejoicing to behold  
Upon the bloody sword the pierced heart,  
He calls then for this massy cup of gold,  
Into the which the woeful heart he cast,  
And reaching me the same, now go, quoth he,  
Unto my daughter, and with speedy haste  
Present her this, and say to her from me,  
Thy father hath here in this cup thee sent  
That thing to joy and comfort thee withal,  
Which thou lovedst best, even as thou wert content  
To comfort him with his chief joy of all.   Cho. 

O hateful fact! O passing cruelty!  
O murder wrought with too much hard despite  
O heinous deed, which no posterity  
Will once believe!   Ren. 

Thus was earl Palurin  
Strangled unto the death, yea after death  
His heart and blood disbowelled from his breast:  
But what availeth plaint? it is but breath  
Forewasted all in vain: why do I rest  
Here in this place? why go I not and do  
The hateful message to my charge committed?  
Oh were it not that I am forced thereto,  
By a king's will, here would I stay my feet,  
x one whit farther wade in this intent:  
But I must yield me to my PRINCE's hest,  
Yet doth this somewhat comfort mine unrest,  
I am resolved her grief not to behold,  
But get me gone my message being told.  
Where is the Princess chamber?   Cho. 

Lo where she comes   Gismund cometh out of her chamber, to whom Renuchio delivereth his cup, saying.  

Scaena 2.  

THy father, O Queen, here in this cup hath sent  
The thing to joy and comfort thee withal  
Which thou lovedst best, even as thou wast content  
To comfort him with his chief joy of all.   Gis. 

I thank my father, and thee gentle squire,  
For this thy travel take thou for thy pains  
This bracelet, and commend me to the king.   Renuchio departeth. 

So now is come the long expected hour,  
The fatal hour I have so looked for,  
Now hath my father satisfied his thirst  
With guiltless blood which he so coveted  
What brings this cup? (ay me) I thought no less,  
It is mine Earls, my Counties pierced heart,  
Dear heart, too dearly hast thou bought my love  
Extremely rated at too high a price.  
Ah my sweet heart, sweet waste thou in thy life,  
But in thy death thou provest passing sweet.  
A fitter hearse than this of beaten gold,  
Could not be lotted to so good an heart:  
My father therefore well provided thus  
To close and wrap thee up in massy gold,  
And there withal to send thee unto me,  
To whom of duty thou dost best belong.  
My father hath in all his life bewrayed  
A princely care and tender love to me:  
But this surpasseth, in his later days  
To send me this, mine own dear heart to me.  
Wert thou not mine, dear heart, whilst that my love  
Danced and played upon thy golden strings?  
Art thou not mine (dear heart) now that my love  
Is fled to heaven, and got him golden wings?  
Thou art mine own, and still mine own shalt be  
Therefore my father sendeth thee to me.  
Ah pleasant harborough of my heart's thought!  
Ah sweet delight, the quickener of my soul  
Seven times accursed be the hand that wrought  
Thee this despite, to mangle thee so foul:  
Yet in this wound I see mine own true love,  
And in this wound thy magnanimity,  
And in this wound I see thy constancy.  
Go gentle heart, go rest thee in thy tomb,  
Receive this token at thy last farewell:   She kisseth it. 

Thine own true heart anon will follow thee,  
Which panting hasteth for thy company.  
Thus hast thou run (poor heart) thy mortal race,  
And rid thy life from fickle fortune's snares,  
Thus hast thou lost this world, and worldly cares,  
And of thy foe, to honour thee withal,  
Received a golden grave, to thy desert,  
Nothing doth want to thy just funeral,  
But my salt tears to wash thy bloody wound.  
Which to the end thou mightst receive, behold  
My father sends thee in this cup of gold,  
And thou shalt have them, though I was resolved  
To shed no tears, but with a cheerful face  
Once did I think to wet thy funeral  
Only with blood, and with no weeping eye.  
This done, forthwith my soul shall fly to thee,  
For therefore did my father send thee me.  
Ah my pure heart, with sweeter company,  
Or more content, how safer may I prove  
To pass to places all unknown with thee.  
Why die I not therefore? why do I stay?  
Why do I not this woeful life forego,  
And with these hands enforce this breath away?  
What means this gorgeous glittering head attire  
How ill beseem these billaments of gold  
Thy mournful widowhood? away with them,  
So let thy tresses flaring in the wind She undresseth her hair.  
Untrimmed hang about thy bared neck:  
Now hellish furies set my heart on fire,  
Bolden my courage, strengthen ye my hands  
Against their kind, to do a kindly deed:  
But shall I then unwreaken down descend?  
Shall I not work some just revenge on him  
That thus hath slain my love? shall not these hands  
Fire his gates, and make the flame to climb  
Up to the pinnacles, with burning brands,  
And on his cinders wreak my cruel teen.  
Be still (fond girl) content thee first to die,  
This venomed water shall abridge thy life, she taketh a viol of poison out of her pocket.  
This for the same intent provided I,  
Which can both ease and end this raging strife.  
Thy father by thy death shall have more woe,  
Than fire or flames within his gates can bring:  
Content thee then in patience hence to go,  
Thy death his blood shall wreak upon the king.  
Now not alone (a grief to die alone)  
"The only mirror of extreme annoy,  
But not alone, thou diest my love, for I  
Will be copartner of thy destiny.  
Be merry than my soul, canst thou refuse  
To die with him, that death for thee did choose?   Chor. 1. 

What damned fury hath possessed our Queen  
Why sit we still beholding her distress?  
madam forbear, suppress this headstrong rage.   Gis. 
Maidens forbear your comfortable words.  Cho. 2. 

O worthy Queen, rashness doth overthrow  
The author of his resolution.   Gis. 
Where hope of help is lost what booteth fear?  Cho. 3. 
Fear will avoid the sting of infamy.  Gis. 
May good or bad reports delight the dead?  Cho. 4. 
If of the living yet the dead have care.  Gis. 
An easy grief by council may be cured.  Cho. 1. 
But headstrong mischiefs princes should avoid  Gis. 
In headlong griefs and cases desperate?  Cho 2. 
Call to your mind (Gis.) you are the Queen.  Gis, 
Unhappy widow, wife, and paramour.  Cho. 3. 
Think on the king.  Gis. 
The king? the tyrant king  Cho. 3. 
Your father.  Gis. 
Yea, the murderer of my love  Ch. 4. 
His force.  Gis. 
the dead fear not the force of men  Ch. 1. 
His care & grief.  Gis. 

That neither cared for me  
Nor grieved at the murder of my love,  
My mind is settled, you with these vain words,  
Withhold me but too long from my desire.  
Depart ye to my chamber.   Cho. 

We will haste  
To tell the king hereof.   Chorus depart into the Palace. Gis. 

I will prevent  
Both you and him. Lo here, this hearty draft  
The last that in this world I mean to taste,  
Dreadless of death (mine Earl) I drink to thee.  
So now work on, now doth my soul begin  
To hate this light, wherein there is no love,  
No love of parents to their children,  
No love of Princes to their Subjects true,  
No love of Ladies to their dearest loves.  
Now pass I to the pleasant land of love,  
Where heavenly love immortal flourisheth:  
The Gods abhor the company of men,  
Hell is on earth, yea hell itself is heaven  
Compared with earth. I call to witness,  
Heaven, said I? no, but hell record I call,  
And thou stern Goddess of revenging wrongs  
Witness with me I die for his pure love  
That lived mine. she lieth down and covereth her face with her hair.   Tancred in haste cometh out of his palace with julio.  

Scaena 3,  Tan 
WHere is my daughter?  Iul 
Behold, here, woeful king.  Tan 

Aime, break heart, & thou fly forth my soul  
What, doth my daughter Gis. take it so?  
What hast thou done? oh let me see thine eyes,  
Oh let me dress up those untrimmed locks,  
Look up, sweet child, look up mine only joy,  
'tis I thy father that beseecheth thee:  
Rear up thy body, strain thy dying voice  
To speak to him, sweet Gismund speak to me.   Gis. 
Who stays my soul? who thus disquiets me?  Tan. 

'tis I thy father, ah behold my tears  
Like pearled dew that trickle down my cheeks,  
To wash my silver hairs.   Gis. 

Oh father king  
Forbear your tears, your plaint will not avail.   Tan. 

Oh my sweetheart, hast thou received thy life  
From me, and wilt thou to requite the same,  
Yield me my death? yea death and greater grief  
To see thee die for him that did defame  
Thine honour thus, my kingdom, and thy name.   Gis. 

Yea therefore father gave ye life to me,  
That I should die, and now my date is done.  
As for your kingdom, and mine own renown,  
Which you affirm dishonoured to be  
That fault impute it where it is, for he  
That slew mine Earl, and sent his heart to me,  
His hands have brought this shame and grief on us  
But father, yet if any spark remain  
Of your dear love, if ever yet I could  
So much deserve, or at your hands desire,  
Grant that I may obtain this last request,   Tans. 

Say lovely child, say on, whate'er it be,  
Thy father grants it willingly to thee.   Cis. 

My life I crave not, for it is not now  
In you to give, nor in myself to save,  
Nor crave I mercy for mine Earl and me,  
Who hath been slain with too much cruelty.  
With patience I must awhile abide  
Within this life, which now will not be long.  
But this is my request, Father I pray,  
That since it pleased so your majesty,  
I should enjoy my love alive no more,  
Yet ne'ertheless let us not parted be,  
Whom cruel death could never separate:  
But as we lived and died together here,  
So let our bodies be together tombed,  
Let him with me, and I with him be laid  
Within one shrine, wherever you appoint,  
This if you grant me, as I trust you will,  
Although I live not to requite this grace,  
Th'immortal God's due recompense shall give  
To you for this, and so vain world farewell,  
My speech is painful, and mine eyesight fails.   Tanc. 

My daughter dies, see how the bitter pangs  
Of tyrannous death, torments her princely heart,  
She looks on me, at me she shakes her head,  
For me she groans, by me my daughter dies,  
ay, ay, the author of this Tragedy.  
On me, on me, ye heavens know down your 〈◊〉  
Now dies my daughter, princely with 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Oh fair in life, thrice fairer in thy death,  
Dear to thy father in thy life thou wert,  
But in thy death, dearest unto his heart,  
I kiss thy paled cheeks, and close thine eyes,  
This duty once I promised to myself,  
Thou shouldst perform to me, but ah false hope  
Now ruthful wretched king what resteth thee?  
Wilt thou now live wasted with misery?  
Wilt thou now live that with these eyes didst see  
Thy daughter dead? wilt thou now live to see  
Her funerals, that of thy life was stay?  
Wilt thou now live that wast her lives decay?  
Shall not this hand reach to this heart the stroke  
Mine arms are not so weak, nor are my limbs  
So feebled with mine age, nor is my heart  
So daunted with the dread of cowardice,  
But I can wreak due vengeance on that head  
That wrought the means these lovers now be dead  
julio come near, and lay thine own right hand  
Upon my thigh, now take thine oath of me.   Iul. 

I swear to thee, my liege Lord, to discharge  
whatever thou enjoinest julio.   Tan. 

First then I charge thee that my daughter have  
Her last request, thou shalt within one tomb  
Inter her Earl and her: and thereupon  
Engrave some Royal Epitaph of love.  
That done, I swear thee thou shalt take my corpse  
Which thou shalt find by that time done to death,  
And lay my body by my daughter's side.  
Swear this, swear this I say.   Iul. 

I swear.  
But will the king do so unkingly now.   Tan. 
A kingly deed the king resolves to do.  Iul. 
To kill himself.  Tan. 
To send his soul to ease.  jul 
Doth jove command it?  Tan. 
Our stars compel it.  Iul. 
The wiseman overrules his stars.  Tan. 
So we  Jul 
Undaunted should the minds of kings endure.  Tan. 

So shall it in this resolution.  
Julio forbear, and as thou lovest the king,  
When thou shalt see him weltering in his gore,  
Stretching his limbs, and gasping in his groans  
Then julio set to thy helping hand,  
Redouble stroke on stroke, and drive the stab  
Down deeper to his heart, to rid his soul.  
Now stand aside, stir not a foot, lest thou  
Make up the fourth to fill this Tragedy.  
These eyes that first beheld my daughter's shame,  
These eyes that longed for the ruthful sight  
Of her Earls heart, these eyes that now have seen  
His death, her woe, and her avenging teen:  
Upon these eyes we must be first avenged.  
Unworthy lamps of this accursed lump,  
Out of your dwellings: so, it fits us thus  
In blood and blindness to go seek the path  
That leadeth down to everlasting night.  
Why fright'st thou dastard? be thou desperate,  
One mischief brings another on his neck,  
As mighty billows tumble in the seas.  
Now daughter, seest thou not how I amerce  
My wrath that thus bereft thee of thy love,  
Upon my head? now fathers learn by me,  
Be wise, be warned to use more tenderly  
The jewels of your joys. Daughter, I come.     

epilogus.  Iul. 

LO here the sweets of, grisly-pale despair,  
These are the blossoms of this cursed tree  
Such are the fruits of too much love and care  
o'erwhelmed in the sense of misery.  
With violent hands he that his life doth end,  
His damned soul to endless night doth wend.  
Now resteth it that I discharge mine oath,  
To see th'unhappy lovers and the king,  
Laid in one tomb: I would be very loath:  
You should wait here to see this mournful thing.  
For I am sure, and do ye all to wit,  
Through grief wherein the Lords of Salerne be,  
These funerals are not prepared yet:  
Nor do they think on that solemnity.  
As for the fury, ye must understand,  
Now she hath seen the effect of her desire,  
She is departed, and hath left our land,  
Granting this end unto her hellish ire.  
Now humbly pray we that our English dames  
May never lead their loves into mistrust:  
But that their honours may avoid the shames  
That follow such as live in wanton lust.  
We know they bear them on their virtues bold  
With blissful chastity so well content,  
That when their lives, and loves abroad are told,  
All men admire their virtuous government.  
Worthy to live where fury never came,  
Worthy to live where love doth always see,  
Worthy to live in golden trump of Fame,  
Worthy to live, and honoured still to be.  
Thus end our sorrows with the setting Sun:  
Now draw the curtains for our Scene is done.  
FINIS.  R. W.    

 

   

Introduction in Actum Secundum.  
BEfore the second Act the 〈◊〉 heard a sweet noise of still pipes, which sounding, Lucrece entered, attended ended by a maiden of honour with a covered goddard of gold, and drawing the curtains, she offereth unto Gismunda to taste thereof: which when she had done, the maid returned, and Lucrece raiseth up Gismund from her bed, and then it followeth vt in Act. 2. Scen. 1.   

Introductio in Actum tertium.  
Before this Act the Hobaies sounded a lofty Almain, and Cupid ushereth after him, Guiszard and Gismund hand in hand. Julio and Lucrece, Renuchio and another maiden of honor. The 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 genes a cane into Guiszard's hand, and they are all led forth again by Cupid, Et sequitur.   

Introductio in Actum 4.  
Before this Act there was heard a consort of sweet music, which playing, Tancred cometh forth, & draweth gismund's curtains, and lies down upon her bed, then from under the stage ascendeth Guisz. & he helpeth up Gismund, they amorously embrace, & depart. The king ariseth enraged, than mas heard & seen a storm of thunder & lightning, in which the furies rise up, Et sequitur.   

Introductio in Actum quintum.  
Before this Act was a dead march played, during which entered on the stage Renuchio captain of the Guard, attended upon by the guard, they took up Guisz. from under the stage, then after Guiszard had kindly taken leave of them all, a strangling cord was fastened about his neck, & he haled forth by them. Renuchio bewaileth it, & then entering in, bringeth forth a standing cup of gold, with a bloody heart reeking hot in it, and then saith vt sequitur.   

Faulses escaped.  
In the preface to the 〈◊〉. maids, line 3. gleams, read gleams. before act 1. l. x. with, read & with. sce. ii. l. xxiiii. for fear that. r. fear of that. sce. i. act i. l. xlvii. for by him, r. by thine. sce. i. act iii. l. xxv. for distained r. distrained. sce. ii. l. vii. for lively breath. r. liberty. sce. ii. act iiii. for but nay, r. but may. sce. iii. act iv for widowhood, r. widow's bed. sce. ii. for whilom a r. whilom there was a. act iiii. l. xxiii. hurt. read let not.