The Spanish Tragedy

The less I speak, the more I meditate.

Let dangers go; thy war shall be with me, But such a war, as breaks no bonds of peace. Speak thou fair words, I'll cross them with fair words; Send thou sweet looks, I'll meet them with sweet looks; Write loving lines, I'll answer loving lines; Give me a kiss, I'll countercheck thy kiss. Be this our warring peace, or peaceful war.

My grief no heart, my thoughts no tongue can tell.

My soule, poore soule thou talkes of things/ Thou knowest not what, my soule hath sliver wings,/ That mounts me up unto the highest heavens.

HIERONIMO. O eyes! no eyes, but fountains fraught with tears; O life! no life, but lively form of death O world! no world, but mass of public wrongs, Confus'd and fill'd with murder and misdeeds! O sacred heav'ns! if this unhallowed deed, If this inhuman and barbarous attempt, If this incomparable murder thus Of mine, but now no more my son, Shall unreveal'd and unreveng'd pass, How should we term your dealings to be just, If you unjustly deal with those that in your justice trust?

I'll trust myself, myself shall be my friend.

That that is good for the body is likewise good for the soul.

Qui jacet in terra non habet unde cadat. In me consumpsit vires fortuna nocendo, Nil superest ut iam possit obesse magis." (loosely translated: "He who lies on the ground can fall no farther. In me, Fortune has exhausted her power of hurting; nothing remains that can harm me anymore.")

I am never better than when I am mad: then methinks I am a brave fellow; then I do wonders: but reason abuseth me, and there's the torment, there's the hell.

Where words prevail not, violence prevails; But gold doth more than either of them both.

Comedies are fit for common wits: But to present a kingly troop withal, Give me a stately-written tragedy; Tragadia cothurnata, fitting kings, Containing matter, and not common things.

Then haste we down to meet thy friends and foes; To place thy friends in ease, the rest in woes. For here though death doth end their misery, I'll there begin their endless tragedy.

HIERONIMO. See, who knock there. PEDRO. It is a painter, sir. HIERONIMO. Bid him come in, and paint some comfort. For surely there's none lives but painted comfort

A guilty conscience, urged with the thought Of former evils, easily cannot err.

BEL-IMPERIA: Oh let me go; for in my troubled eyes Now may'st thou read that life in passion dies. HORATIO: Oh stay a while, and I will die with thee; So shalt thou yield, and yet have conquered me.

Now by the sorrows of the souls in hell, Who first lays hand on me, I'll be his priest

Nor dies Revenge although he sleep awhile, For in unquiet, quietness is feigned, and slumbering is a common worldly wile.

VICEROY OF PORTUGAL. ...My late ambition hath distain'd my faith; My breach of faith occasion'd bloody wars; Those bloody wars have spent my treasure; And with my treasure my people's blood; And with their blood, my joy and best belov'd My best belov'd, my sweet and only son. O, wherefore went I not to war myself The cause was mine; I might have died for both: My years were mellow, his but young and green; My death were natural, but his was forc'd.

I think Horatio be my destin'd plague: First, in his hand he brandished a sword, And with that sword he fiercely waged war, And in that war he gave me dangerous wounds, And by those wounds he forced me to yield, And by my yielding I became his slave. Now in his mouth he carries pleasing words, Which pleasing words do harbour sweet conceits, Which sweet conceits are lim'd with sly deceits, Which sly deceits smooth Bellimperia's ears, And through her ears dive down into her heart, And in her heart set him, where I should stand.

HIERONIMO. Art a painter? canst paint me a tear, or a wound, a groan, or a sigh?

Under feigned jest Are things conceal'd that else would breed unrest.

I list not trust the air With utterance of our pretence therein, For fear the privy whisp'ring of the wind Convey our words amongst unfriendly ears, That lie too open to advantages.

Sweet lovely rose, ill plucked before thy time, Fair worthy son, not conquered, but betrayed: I'll kiss thee now, for words with tears are stayed. And I'll close up the glasses of his sight, For once these eyes were only my delight.

Eyes, life, world, heavens, hell, night, and day, See, search, show, send some man, some mean, that may - [A letter falleth]

No, she is wilder, and more hard withal Than beast, or bird, or tree, or stony wall.

And so shall I never again, my life, see those eyes of yours, and has everlasting sleep sealed up your light of life? I shall perish with you; thus, thus would it please me to go to the shades below. Nonetheless I shall keep myself from yielding to a hastened death, lest in that case no revenge should follow your death.