I holpe to murder Don Horatio too." --
Holpe he to murder mine Horatio?
And actors in th' accursed tragedie
Wast thou, Lorenzo? Bathazar and thou,
Of whome my sone, my sonne deseru'd so well?
What haue I heard? what haue mine eies behelde?
O sacred heauens, may it come to passe
That such a monstrous and detested deed,
So closely smootherd and so long conceald,
Shall thus by this be [revenged] or reuealed?
Now see I, what I durst not then suspect,
That Bel-imperias letter was not fainde,
Nor fained she, though falsly they haue wrongd
Both her, my-selfe, Horatio and themselues.
Now may I make compare twixt hers and this
Of euerie accident. I neere could finde
Till now, and now I feelingly perceiue,
They did what Heauen vnpunisht [should] not leaue.
O false Lorenzo! are these thy flattering lookes?
Is this honour that thou didst my sonne?
And, Balthazar, -- bane to thy soule and me! --
What this the ransome he reseru'd [for thee]?
Woe to the cause of these constrained warres!
Woe to thy basenes and captiuitie!
Woe to thy birth, thy body and thy soule,
Thy cursed father, and thy conquerd selfe!
And band with bitter execrations be
The day and place where he did pittie thee!
But wherefore waste I mine vnfruitfull words,
When naught but blood will satisfie my woes?