whence it lies.

BEL. A heartless man, and live? A miracle!

BAL. Aye, lady, love can work such miracles.

  LOR. Tush, tush, my lord! let go these ambages,
    And in plain terms acquaint her with your love.

BEL. What boots complaint, when there's no remedy?

  BAL. Yes, to your gracious self must I complain,
    In whose fair answer lies my remedy,
    On whose perfection all my thoughts attend,
    On whose aspect mine eyes find beauty's bower,
    In whose translucent breast my heart is lodg'd.

  BEL. Alas, my lord! These are but words of course,
    And but devis'd to drive me from this place.

                She, going in, lets fall her glove, which
                HORATIO, coming out, takes up.

HOR. Madame, your glove.

BEL. Thanks, good Horatio; take it for thy pains.

[BEL-IMPERIA exits.]

BAL. Signior Horatio stoop'd in happy time!

HOR. I reap'd more grace that I deserv'd or hop'd.

  LOR. My lord, be not dismay'd for what is past;
    You know that women oft are humorous:
    These clouds will overblow with little wind;
    Let me alone, I'll scatter them myself.
    Meanwhile let us devise to spend the time
    In some delightful sports and revelling.

  HOR. The king, my lords, is coming hither straight
    To feast the Portingal ambassador;
    Things were in readiness before I came.

  BAL. Then here it fits us to attend the king,
    To welcome hither our ambassador,
    And learn my father and my country's health.

                Enter the banquet, TRUMPETS, the KING,
                and AMBASSADOR.

  KING. See, lord ambassador, how Spain entreats
    Their prisoner Balthazar, thy viceroy's son:
    We pleasure more in kindness than in wars.

  AMBASS. Sad is our king, and Portingal laments,
    Supposing that Don Balthazar is slain.

  BAL. [aside] So am I, slain by beauty's tyranny!—
    You see, my lord, how Balthazar is slain:
    I frolic with the Duke of Castille's son,
    Wrapp'd every hour in pleasures of the court,
    And grac'd with favours of his Majesty.

  KING. Put off your greetings till our feast be done;
    Now come and sit with us, and taste our cheer.

Sit to the banquet.

    Sit down, young prince, you are our second guest;
    Brother, sit down; and nephew, take your place.
    Signior Horatio, wait thou upon our cup,
    For well thou hast deserved to be honour'd.
    Now, lordings, fall too: Spain is Portugal,
    And Portugal is Spain; we both are friends;
    Tribute is paid, and we enjoy our right.
    But where is old Hieronimo, our marshall?
    He promis'd us, in honour of our guest,
    To grace our banquet with some pompous jest.

                Enter HIERONIMO with a DRUM, three KNIGHTS,
                each with scutcheon; then he fetches three
                KINGS; they take their crowns and them
                captive.

    Hieronimo, this makes content mine eye,
    Although I sound not well the mystery.

HIERO. The first arm'd knight that hung his scutcheon up

                He takes the scutcheon and gives it to
                the KING.

    Was English Robert, Earle of Gloucester,
    Who, when King Stephen bore sway in Albion,
    Arriv'd with five and twenty thousand men
    In Portingal, and, by success of war,
    Enforc'd the king, then but a Saracen,
    To bear the yoke of the English monarchy.

  KING. My lord of Portingal, by this you see
    That which may comfort both your king and you,
    And make your late discomfort seem the less.
    But say, Hieronimo: what was the next?

HIERO. The second knight that hung his scutcheon up

He doth as he did before.

    Was Edmond, Earle of Kent in Albion.
    When English Richard wore the diadem,
    He came likewise and razed Lisbon walls,
    And took the king of Portingal in fight,—
    For which, and other such service done,
    He after was created Duke of York.

  KING. This is another special argument
    That Portingal may deign to bear our yoke,
    When it by little England hath been yok'd.
    But now, Hieronimo, what were the last?

HIERO. The third and last, not least in our account,

Doing as before.

    Was, as the rest, a valiant Englishman,
    Brave John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster,
    As by his scutcheon plainly may appear:
    He with a puissant army came to Spain
    And took our King of Castille prisoner.

  AMBASS. This is an argument for our viceroy
    That Spain may not insult for her success,
    Since English warriors likewise conquer'd Spain
    And made them bow their knees to Albion.

  KING. Hieronimo, I drink to thee for this device,
    Which hath pleas'd both the ambassador and me:
    Pledge me, Hieronimo, if thou love the king!

Takes the cup of HORATIO.

    My lord, I fear we sit but over-long,
    Unless our dainties were more delicate,—
    But welcome are you to the best we have.
    Now let us in, that you may be dispatch'd;
    I think our council is already set.

Exeunt omnes.

[CHORUS.]

  ANDREA. Come we for this from depth of under ground,—
    To see him feast that gave me my death's wound?
    These pleasant sights are sorrow to my soul:
    Nothing but league and love and banqueting!

  REVENGE. Be still, Andrea; ere we go from hence,
    I'll turn their friendship into fell despite,
    Their love to mortal hate, their day to night,
    Their hope into despair, their peace to war,
    Their joys to pain, their bliss to misery.

ACTUS SECUNDUS.

[ACT II. SCENE 1.]

[The DUKE's castle.]

Enter LORENZO and BALTHAZAR.

  LORENZO. My lord, though Bel-imperia seem thus coy,
    Let reason hold you in your wonted joy:
    In time the savage bull sustains the yoke,
    In time all haggard hawks will stoop to lure,
    In time small wedges cleave the hardest oak,
    In time the flint is pierc'd with softest shower;