Act 1 — [Scene IV.][743]

Bel. Signior Horatio, this is the place and hour, Wherein I must entreat thee to relate The circumstance of Don Andrea’s death, Who, living, was my garland’s sweetest flower, And in his death hath buried my delights.5 Hor. For love of him and service to yourself, I nill[744] refuse this heavy doleful charge; Yet tears and sighs, I fear, will hinder me. When both our armies were enjoin’d in fight, Your worthy chevalier amidst the thick’st,10 For glorious cause still aiming at the fairest, Was at the last by young Don Balthazar Encount’red hand to hand. Their fight was long, Their hearts were great, their clamours menacing, Their strength alike, their strokes both dangerous,15 But wrathful Nemesis, that wicked power, Envying at Andrea’s praise and worth, Cut short his life, to end his praise and worth. She, she herself, disguis’d in armour’s mask— As Pallas was before proud Pergamus—20 Brought in a fresh supply of halberdiers, Which paunch’d[745] his horse, and ding’d[746] him to the ground. Then young Don Balthazar with ruthless rage, Taking advantage of his foe’s distress, Did finish what his halberdiers begun,25 And left not, till Andrea’s life was done. Then, though too late, incens’d with just remorse,[747] I with my band set forth against the prince, And brought him prisoner from his halberdiers. Bel. Would thou hadst slain him that so slew my love!30 But then was Don Andrea’s carcase lost? Hor. No, that was it for which I chiefly strove, Nor stepp’d I back till I recover’d him. I took him up, and wound him in mine arms; And wielding[748] him unto my private tent,35 There laid him down, and dew’d him with my tears, And sigh’d and sorrowed as became a friend. But neither friendly sorrow, sighs, nor tears Could win pale Death from his usurped right. Yet this I did, and less I could not do:40 I saw him honoured with due funeral. This scarf I pluck’d from off his lifeless arm, And wear it in remembrance of my friend. Bel. I know the scarf: would he had kept it still! For had he liv’d, he would have kept it still,45 And worn it for his Bel-imperia’s sake; For ’t was my favour at his last depart. But now wear thou it both for him and me; For after him thou hast deserv’d it best. But for thy kindness in his life and death,50 Be sure, while Bel-imperia’s life endures, She will be Don Horatio’s thankful friend. Hor. And, madam, Don Horatio will not slack Humbly to serve fair Bel-imperia. But now, if your good liking stand thereto,55 I’ll crave your pardon to go seek the prince; For so the duke, your father, gave me charge. Bel. Ay, go, Horatio, leave me here alone; For solitude best fits my cheerless mood. Exit Horatio. Yet what avails to wail Andrea’s death,60 From whence Horatio proves my second love? Had he not lov’d Andrea as he did, He could not sit in Bel-imperia’s thoughts. But how can love find harbour in my breast Till I revenge the death of my belov’d?65 Yes, second love shall further my revenge! I’ll love Horatio, my Andrea’s friend, The more to spite the prince that wrought his end; And where Don Balthazar, that slew my love, Himself now pleads for favour at my hands,70 He shall, in rigour of my just disdain, Reap long repentance for his murderous deed. For what was’t else but murderous cowardice, So many to oppress one valiant knight, Without respect of honour in the fight?75 And here he comes that murd’red my delight.

Lor. Sister, what means this melancholy walk? Bel. That for a while I wish no company. Lor. But here the prince is come to visit you. Bel. That argues that he lives in liberty.80 Bal. No, madam, but in pleasing servitude. Bel. Your prison then, belike, is your conceit. Bal. Ay, by conceit my freedom is enthrall’d. Bel. Then with conceit enlarge yourself again. Bal. What, if conceit have laid my heart to gage?85 Bel. Pay that you borrowed, and recover it. Bal. I die, if it return from whence it lies. Bel. A heartless man, and live? A miracle! Bal. Ay, lady, love can work such miracles. Lor. Tush, tush, my lord! let go these ambages,[749]90 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,95 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.[750] And but devis’d[751] to drive me from this place. She, in going in, lets fall her glove, which Horatio, coming out, takes up. Hor. Madam, your glove.100 Bel. Thanks, good Horatio; take it for thy pains. Bal. Signior Horatio stoop’d in happy time! Hor. I reap’d more grace than I deserv’d or hop’d. Lor. My lord, be not dismay’d for what is past; You know that women oft are humorous.[752]105 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,110 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,114 And learn my father and my country’s health.