Selected quad for the lemma: england_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A04942
|
The Spanish tragedie containing the lamentable end of Don Horatio, and Bel-imperia: with the pittifull death of olde Hieronimo.
|
Kyd, Thomas, 1558-1594.
|
1592
(1592)
|
STC 15086; ESTC S120308
|
44,549
|
86
|
spight the Prince that wrought his end And where Don Balthazar that slew my loue Himselfe now pleades for fauour at my hands He shall in rigour of my iust disdaine Reape long repentance for his murderous deed For what wa st els but murderous cowardise So many to oppresse one valiant knight Without respect of honour in the fight And heere he comes that murdred my delight Enter Lorenzo and Balthazar Lor. Sister what meanes this melanchollie walke Bel. That for a while I wish no company Lor. But heere the Prince is come to visite you Bel. That argues that he liues in libertie Bal. No Madame but in pleasing seruitude Bel. Your prison then belike is your conceit Bal. I by conceit my freedome is enthralde Bel. Then with conceite enlarge your selfe again Bal. What if conceite haue laid my hart to gage Bel. Pay that you borrowed and recouer it Bal. I die if it returne from whence it lyes Bel. A hartles man and liue A miracle Bal. I Lady loue can worke such miracles Lor. Tush tush my Lord let goe these ambages And in plaine tearmes acquaint her with your loue Bel. What bootes complaint when ther 's no remedy Bal. Yes to your gratious selfe must I complaine In whose faire answere lyes my remedy On whose perfection all my thoughts attend On whose aspect mine eyes finde beauties bowre In whose translucent brest my hart is lodgde Bel. Alas my Lord these are but words of course And but deuise to driue me from this place She in going in lets fall her Gloue which Horatio comming out takes vp Hor. Madame your Gloue Bel. Thanks good Horatio take it for thy paines Bal. Signior Horatio stoopt in happie time Hor. I reapt more grace then I deseru'd or hop'd Lor. My Lord be not dismaid for what is past You know that women oft are humerous These clouds will ouerblow with little winde Let me alone I le scatter them my selfe Meane while let vs deuise to spend the time In some delightfull sports and reuelling Hor. The King my Lords is comming hither straight To feast the Portingall Embassadour Things were in readines before I came Bal. Then heere it fits vs to attend the King To welcome hither our Embassadour And learne my Father and my Countries health Enter the banquet Trumpets the King and Embassadour King See Lord Embassador how Spaine intreats Their prisoner Balthazar thy Viceroyes Sonne We pleasure more in kindenes then in warres Embass. Sad is our King and Portingale laments Supposing that Don Balthazar is slaine Bal. So am I slaine by beauties tirannie You see my Lord how Balthazar is slaine I frolike with the Duke of Castiles Sonne Wrapt euery houre in pleasurs of the Court And graste with fauours of his Maiestie King Put off your greetings till our feast be done Now come and sit with vs and taste our cheere Sit to the banquet Sit downe young Prince you are our second guest Brother sit downe and Nephew take your place Signior Horatio waite thou vpon our cup For well thou hast deserued to be honored Now Lordings fall too Spaine is Portugall And Portugall is Spaine we both are freends Tribute is paid and we enioy our right But where is olde Hieronimo our Marshall He promised vs in honor of our guest To grace our banquet with some pompous iest Enter Hieronimo with a Drum three Knights each his Scutchin then he fetches three Kings they take their Crownes and them captiue Hieronimo this maske contents mine eie Although I sound not well the misterie Hiero. The first arm'd Knight that hung his Scutchin vp He takes the Scutchin and giues it to the King Was English Robert Earle of Glocester Who when king Stephen bore sway in Albion Arriued with fiue and twenty thousand men In Portingale and by successe of warre Enforced the King then but a Sarasin To beare the yoake of the English Monarchie King My Lord of Portingale by this you see That which may comfort both your King and you And make your late discomfort seeme the lesse But say Hieronimo what was the next Hiero. The second Knight that hung his Scutchin vp 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 walles And tooke the King of Portingale in fight For which and other such like seruice done He after was created Duke of Yorke King This is another speciall argument That Portingale may daine to beare our yoake When it by little England hath beene yoakt But now Hieronimo what were the last Hiero. The third and last not least in our account Dooing as before Was as the rest a valiant Englishman Braue Iohn of Gaunt the Duke of Lancaster As by his Scutchin plainely may appeare He with a puissant armie came to Spaine And tooke our King of Castile prisoner Embass. This is an argument for our Viceroy That Spaine may not insult for her successe Since English warriours likewise conquered Spaine And made them bow their knees to Albion King Hieronimo I drinke to thee for this deuise Which hath pleasde both the Embassador and me Pledge me Hieronomo if thou loue the King Takes the Cup of Horatio My Lord I feare we sit but ouer-long Vnlesse our dainties were more delicate But welcome are you to the best we haue Now let vs in that you may be dispatcht I think our councell is already set Exeunt omnes Andrea Come we for this from depth of vnder ground To see him feast that gaue me my deaths wound These pleasant sights are sorrow to my soule Nothing but league and loue and banqueting Reuenge Be still Andrea ere we goe from hence I le turne their freendship into fell despight Their loue to mortall hate their day to night Their hope into dispaire their peace to warre Their ioyes to paine their blisse to miserie Actus Secundus Enter Lorenzo and Balthazar Lorenzo MY Lord though Bel-imperia seeme thus coy Let reason holde you in your wonted ioy In time the sauage Bull sustaines the yoake In time all haggard Hawkes will stoope to lure In time small wedges cleaue the hardest Oake In time the flint is pearst with softest shower And she in time will fall from her disdaine And rue the sufferance of your freendly paine Bal. No she is wilder and more hard withall Then beast or bird or tree or stony wall But wherefore blot I Bel-imperias name It is my fault not she that merites blame My feature is not to content her sight My wordes are rude and worke her no delight The lines I send her are but harsh and ill Such as doe drop from Pan and Marsias quill My presents are not of sufficient cost And being worthles all my labours lost Yet might she loue me for my valiancie I but that 's slaundred by captiuitie Yet might she loue me to content her fire I but her reason masters his desire Yet might she loue me as her brothers freend I but her hopes