Act 4 — [ACT IV. SCENE 2.]
Reading edition
[HIERONIMO's garden.]
Enter ISABELLA with a weapon.
[ISA.] Tell me no more! O monstrous homicides! Since neither piety nor pity moves The king to justice or compassion, I will revenge myself upon this place, Where thus they murder'd my beloved son.
She cuts down the arbour.
Down with these branches and these loathsome boughs On this unfortunate and fatal pine! Down with them, Isabella; rent them up, And burns the roots from whence the rest is sprung! I will leave not a root, a stalk, a tree, A bough, a branch, a blossom, nor a leaf,— Not, not an herb within this garden plot, Accursed complot of my misery! Fruitless forever may this garden be, Barren the earth, and blissless whosoever Imagines not to keep it unmanur'd! An eastern wind comix'd with noisome airs Shall blast the plants and young saplings here, The earth with serpents shall be pestered, And passengers, for fear to be infect, Shall stand aloof, and, looking at it, tell There, murder'd, died the son of Isabell. Aye, here he died, and here I him embrace! See where his ghost solicits with his wounds Revenge on her that should revenge his death! Hieronimo, make haste to see thy son, For Sorrow and Despair hath 'cited me To hear Horatio plead with Radamant. Make haste, Hieronimo, to hold excus'd Thy negligence in pursuit of their deaths Whose hateful wrath bereav'd him of his breath. Ah, nay; thou dost delay their deaths, Forgiv'st the murd'rers of thy noble son; And none but I bestir me,—to no end! And, as I curse this tree from further fruit, So shall my womb be cursed for his sake; And with this weapon will I wound this breast,— That hapless breast that gave Horatio suck!
She stabs herself.