body hence, that we may mourne
The losse of our beloued brothers death,
That he may be entom'd, what-ere befall.
I am the next, the neerest, last of all.

VICE. And thou, Don Pedro, do the like for vs:
Take vp our haples sonne vntimely slaine;
Set me vp with him, and he with wofull me,
Vpon the maine-mast of a ship vnmand,
And let the winde and tide [hale] me along
To Sillas barking and vntamed gulfe
Or to the lothsome poole of Archeron,
To weepe my want for my sweet Balthazar.
Spaine hath no refuge for a Portingale!

The trumpets sound a dead march, the KING OF SPAINE
mourning after his brothers body, and the KING OF
PORTINGALE bearing the body of his sonne.

[CHORUS.]

Enter GHOAST and REUENGE.

GHOAST. I; now my hopes haue end in their effects,
When blood and sorrow finnish my desires:
Horatio murdered in his Fathers bower,
Vilde Serberine by Pedrigano slaine,
False Pedrigano hang'd by quaint deuice,
Faire Isabella by her-selfe misdone,
Prince Balthazar by Bel-imepria stabd,
The Duke of Castile an his wicked sonne
Both done to death by olde Hieronimo,
My Bel-imperia falne as Dido fell,
And good Hieronimo slaine by himselfe!
I, these were spectacles to please my soule.
Now will I beg at louely Proserpine
That, by the vertue of her princely doome,
I may consort my freends in pleasing sort,
And on my foes work iust and sharpe reuenge.
Ile lead my freend Horatio through those feeldes
Where neuer-dying warres are still inurde;
Ile lead faire Isabella to that traine
Where pittie weepes but neuer feeleth paine;
Ile lead my Bel-imperia to those ioyes
That vestal virgins and faire queenes possess;
Ile lead Hieronimo where Orpheus plaies,
Adding sweet pleasure to eternall daies.
But say, Reuenge,--for thou must helpe or none,--
Against the rest how shall my hate be showne?

REUENGE. This hand shall hale them down to deepest hell,
Where none but furies, bugs and tortures dwell.

GHOAST. Then, sweet Reuenge, doo this at my request:
Let me iudge and doome them to vnrest;
Let loose poore Titius from the vultures gripe,
And let Don Ciprian supply his roome;
Place Don Lorenzo on Ixions wheele,
And let the louers endles paines surcease,
Iuno forget olde wrath and gra