RENUCHIO

What is your Highness will? O cruel fate, o miserable chance O dire aspect of hateful destinies, O woe may not be told: sufficed it not That I should see and with these eyes behold So foul, so bloody, and so basea deed: But more to aggravate the heavy cares Of my perplexed mind, must only I Must I alone be made the messenger, That must deliver to her Princely ears Such dismal news? as when I shall disclose I know it cannot but abridge her days. As when the thunderer and three forked fire Rend through the clouds by Jove's almighty power Breaks up the bosom of our mother earth, And burns her heart before the heat be felt. In this distress whom should I most bewail, My woe, that must be made the messenger Of these unworthy and unwelcome news? Or shall I moan thy death, Oh noble Earl? Or shall I still lament the heavy hap That yet, Oh Queen, attends thy funeral. Oh whither may I cast my looks? to heaven? Blackpitchy clouds from thence rain down r venge The earth shall I behold? stained with the gore Of his heart blood that died most innocent. Which way so ere I turn mine eyes, me thinks His butchered corpse stands staring in my face. Since so is your request that I shall do, Although my mind so sorrowful a thing Repines to tell, and though my voice eschews To say what I have seen: yet since your will So fixed stands to hear for what I rue, Your great desires I shall herein fulfil. First by Salerne City, amids the plain, There stands a hill, whose bottom huge and round, Thrown out in breadth, a large space does contain And gathering up in height small from the ground Still less and less it mounts: there sometime was A goodly tower upreared, that flowrde in fame While fate and fortune served, but time does pass, And with his sway suppresses all the same: For now the walls be evened with the plain. And all the rest so foully lies defaced: As but the only shade does there remain Of that which there was built in time forepast: And yet that shows what worthy work tofore Hath there been reared: one parcel of that tower Yet stands, which eating time could not devour: A str ong turret compact of stone and rock: Huge without, but horrible within: To pass to which by force of handy stroke A crooked strait is made, that enters in And leads into this ugly loathsome place. Within the which carved into the ground A deep dungeon there runs of narrow space Dreadful and dark, where neue light is found: Into this hollow cave, by cruel hest Of king Tancred, were diverse servants sent To work the horror of his furious breast, Erst nourished in his rage, and now stern bent, To have the same performed: I woeful man Amongst the rest, was one to do the thing That to our charge so straitly did belong, In sort as was commanded by the king. Within which dreadful prison when we came, The noble County Palurin that there Lay chained in gives, fast fettered in his bolts, Out of the dark dungeon we did uprear And haled him thence into a brighter place, That gave us light to work our tyranny. But when I once beheld his manly face, And saw his cheer, no more appalled with fear, Of present death, then he whom never dread Did once amate: my heart abhorred then To give consent unto so foul a deed, That wretched death should reave so worthy a man On false fortune I cried with loud complaint, That in such sort overwhelms nobility. But he whom never grief ne fear could taint, With smiling cheer himself oft wills me, To leave to plain his case, or sorrow make, For him, for he was far more glad apaid Death to embrace thus for his Ladies sake, Then life, or all the joys of life he said. For lose of life (quoth he) grieves me no more, Then joss of that which I least, My Ladies grief, least she should rue therefore, Is all the cause of grief within my breast. He prayed therefore that we would make report To her of those his last words he would say: That though he never could in any sort Her gentleness requite, nor never lay Within his power to serve her as he would, Yet she possessed his heart with hand and might, To do her all the honour that he could. This was to him of all the joys that might Revive his heart, the chiefest joy of all, That, to declare the faithful heart which he Did bear to her, fortune so well did fallen, That in her love he should both live and die. After these words he stayed, and spoke no more, But joyfully beholding us eachone, His words and cheer amazed us so soar That still we stood: when forthwith thereupon But why slack you (quoth he) to do the thing For which you come? make speed and stay no more Perform your Master's will: now tell the king He hath his life for which he longed so soar: And with those words himself with his own hand Fastened the bans about his neck. The rest Wondering at his stout heart, astonished stand To see him offer thus himself to death. What stony breast, or what hard heart of flint Would not relent to see this dreery sighed? So goodly a man, whom death nor Fortune's dint Could once disarm, murdered with such despite. And in such sort bereft amid the flowers Of his fresh years, that ruthful was to seen: "For violent is death, when he devours "Young men, or virgins, while their years be green. Lo now our servants seeing him take the bans And on his neck himself to make them fast: Without delay set to their cruel hands, And sought to work their fierce intent with hast, They stretch the bloody bans, and when the breath Began to fail his breast, they slacked again. Thrice did they pull, and thrice they losed him, So did their hands repine against their hearts: And oft times losed to his greater pain. "But date of death that fixed is so fast, "Beyond his course there may no wight extend, For strangled is this noble Earl at last, Bereft of life, unworthy such and end. Would God it had been cast a savage pray To beasts and birds: but lo, that dreadful thing Which even the tiger would not work, but to Suffice his hunger: that hath the tyrant king Withouten ruth commanded us to do, Only to please his wrathful heart withal. Happy had been his chance, too happy alas, If birds, or beasts had eaten up his corpse, Yea heart and all: within this cup I bring, And am constrained now unto the face Of his deer Lady to present the same. What deem you this to be All the said news that I have to unfold? Is here (think you) end of the cruelty That I have seen? What, think you this outrage did end so well? The horror of the fact, the greatest , The massacre, the terror is to tell. After his breath was gone, Forced perforce thus from his panting breast Straight they despoiled him, and not alone Contented with his death, on the dead corpse Which ravenous beasts forbear to lacerate, Even upon this our villains fresh begun To show new cruelty: forthwith they pierce His naked belly, and unripped it so, That out the bowels gushed: who can rehearse Their tyranny, wherewith my heart yet bleeds. The warm entrails were torn out of his breast. Within their hands trembling not fully dead, His veins smoked, his bowels all to Ruthless were rend, and thrown about the place: All clottered lay the blood in lumps of gore, Sprented on his corpse, and on his paled face, His trembling heart, yet leaping, out they tore, And cruelly upon a rapier They fixed the same, and in this hateful wise Unto the king this heart they do present: A sighed longed for to feed his ireful eyes. The king perceiving each thing to be wrought As he had wild, to behold Upon the bloody sword the pierced heart, He calls then for this massy cup of gold, Into the which the woeful heart he cast, And reaching me the same, now go, quoth , Unto my daughter, and with speedy hast Present her this, and say to her from me, Thy father here in this cup thee sent That thing to joy and comfort thee withal, Which thou lovedest best, even as thou Wertenberg content To comfort him with his chief joy of all. Thus was Earl Palurin Strangled unto the death, yea after death His heart and blood disboweled from his breast: But what avails ? it is but breath Forewasted all in vain: why do I rest Here in this place? why go I not and do The hateful message to my charge committed? O were it not that I am forced thereto, By a kings will, here would I stay my feet, Ne one whit farther wade in this intent: But I must yield me to my Princes hest, Yet does this somewhat comfort mine unrest, I am resolved her grief not to behold, But get me gone my message being told. Where is the Princess chamber?