Act 1, Scene 1

The Ghost of Andrea enters the scene to deliver a monologue and put forth the premises of the play. When he was alive, the Ghost states, he served as a courtier in the Spanish court. In the prime of his youth he engaged in a secret love affair with the Duke of Castile's daughter, Bellimperia. Spain's war with Portugal, however, ended his blissful days and separated him from his love. The Ghost recounts how Don Andrea was slain in battle and his soul descended to the gates of the underworld, where it had to wait three days for the Marshall's son Horatio to perform the rites of burial.

Andrea's body properly buried, his soul made its way past Cerberus (the three-headed dog guarding the gate to Hades), only to find itself in front of the three judges of the underworld: Minos, Aeacus and Rhadamanth. Minos declared that Don Andrea lived and died in love, prompting Aeacus to vote to send him to the "fields of love." Rhadamanth dissented, however, claiming that Don Andrea died in war and should thus go to the "martial fields" instead. Minos finally deferred judgment to Pluto, lord of the underworld. The soul of Andrea proceeded through the underworld, passing by many horrifying sights before arriving at Pluto's tower in the middle of a fair Elysian field. He encountered Pluto, but it was the queen of Hades Proserpine who passed his final judgment.

As it turns out, the Ghost was addressing the character Revenge as much as the audience. Once the Queen bade Revenge to lead Don Andrea's soul through the gates of horn, he found himself in his current place. Rather than an explanation for the turn of events, Revenge responds with a promise: the Ghost will see Balthazar - who took Andrea's life - killed by Bellimperia. The two then sit down as spectators to a play. Revenge states: "Here sit we down to see the mystery, / And serve for Chorus in this tragedy."

Act 1, Scene 2

The King of Spain enters with his brother the Duke of Castile, the Marshall Hieronimo, and a General. The King asks for a battle report, and the General declares that Spain achieved victory with little loss to itself. Portugal will honor Spain and its tribute. The King then requests a more detailed account of the military success and the General gladly obliges. After painting a picture of the battlefield in its poetic glory as well as its grim details, the General says that Don Andrea and his men fought so bravely as to push the Portuguese soldiers into retreat. The Portuguese prince, Balthazar, challenged Andrea and killed him, but Hieronimo's son Horatio, in turn, defeated Balthazar and took him prisoner, effectively assuring the Spanish victory.

After hearing the good news reconfirmed, the King rewards the General with a chain. The latter states that a "peace conditional" has been reached with Portugal, whereby the Spanish forces will keep their peace so long as Portugal pays its tribute. The King then turns to Hieronimo and promises him and his son a reward. At this point a trumpet sounds, and the army files through the King's hall. Balthazar marches between Horatio and the Duke's son Lorenzo. The King calls for Balthazar to be brought before him and dismisses everyone else, granting every soldier two ducats and every leader ten as a reward.

The Portuguese prince presents himself meekly before the Spanish King, who receives him magnanimously: Balthazar shall be kept in Spain, well and alive, though not at liberty per se. At this point the King asks whether it is Horatio or Lorenzo who holds Balthazar prisoner. The two argue over the privilege, each vaunting his own accomplishment in capturing the prince. While Balthazar submits himself to both of the young men, Hieronimo speaks in his son's favor. The King finally pronounces his decision: Lorenzo will hold Balthazar captive and receive his weapons and horse; Horatio will receive the prince's armor, as well as his ransom. Before retiring, the King encourages Horatio to visit Balthazar, as the prince seems to think very fondly of him.

Act 1, Scene 3

The scene shifts to Portugal, where the Viceroy laments his misfortune in front of two noblemen, Alexandro and Villuppo. After confirming that an ambassador has been sent to Spain with the required tribute, the Viceroy prostrates himself on the ground. This way, he declares, his fortunes can no fall no further. The Viceroy continues to grieve over his misfortunes and in particular over the loss of his son - if only he himself could have been killed, instead of Balthazar! Alexandro hastens to inform the King that his son is most likely still alive: the prince has been taken prisoner, and his ransom will probably assure his life.

Villuppo, however, tells a different tale. After insuring against the King's wrath for being the messenger of bad news, Villuppo claims that he saw Balthazar engaged in battle with the Spanish General, whereupon Alexandro shot the prince in the back. Despite Alexandro's vehement protest, the Viceroy is inclined to believe Villuppo. His nightly dreams, the Viceroy says, have confirmed Villuppo's claim that the Spanish dragged Balthazar's body to their tents.

The Viceroy thus turns to Alexandro and accuses him of treachery, speculating that he was blinded by either the Spanish gold or his eventual claim to the throne. The Viceroy takes his crown off and puts it on again, declaring that he will wear it until Alexandro's blood has been spilled. He sends Alexandro to prison and promises Villuppo a reward. The latter delivers a short soliloquy to conclude the scene, revealing desire for a reward as his motive for treachery.

Act 1, Scene 4

Back in Spain, Bellimperia entreats Horatio to explain to her the circumstances of Don Andrea's death. Horatio states that Andrea was engaged with Balthazar in a fierce duel when the goddess Nemesis, envious of Andrea's "praise and worth," came to Balthazar's aid. The Portuguese prince, thus at an unfair advantage, was able to kill Andrea before Horatio could come to his rescue. Horatio then explains that he honored the corpse with a proper funeral, only taking a scarf as a keepsake. Bellimperia, whose last gift to her lover was the very same scarf, promises Horatio her gratitude and friendship. Horatio in turn promises to serve the lady and leaves to look for Balthazar. Alone on stage, Bellimperia admits her "second love" for Horatio and resolves to seek out proper vengeance on the Portuguese prince.

Lorenzo and Balthazar enter to find Bellimperia all alone in a melancholic mood. In a series of short exchanges, Balthazar professes his love for the fair Bellimperia. Just as Bellimperia drops her glove, however, Horatio enters the scene to pick it up for her. Lorenzo promises to dispel his sister's cloudy mood, and the three men head to the feast welcoming the Portuguese ambassador.

Act 1, Scene 5

The King of Spain welcomes the Portuguese ambassador. The ambassador is glad to see that Balthazar is alive and well, contrary to his expectations. All sit down to the banquet, whereupon Hieronimo enters to stage a masque.

Three knights enter the stage and take three kings captive by removing their crowns. Hieronimo takes the first knight's escutcheon ("scutcheon") and gives it to the first king; according to Hieronimo's narration, the knight plays the Earl of Gloucester, who once conquered Portugal and made it bear the English monarchy's coat of arms. The same performance takes place for the second knight and king, between England and Portugal, respectively. The third pair, however, represents the Duke of Lancaster conquering the King of Spain.

History shows, therefore, that neither party need be insulted by the outcome of the recent battle. After the masque, the King praises Hieronimo for pleasing both the Portuguese ambassador and himself.

Act 1, Scene 6

Finding nothing pleasant in the sight of Balthazar feasting merrily, the Ghost of Andrea asks Revenge why they have been watching the above events unfold. As a response, Revenge concludes the act with an ominous presage:

I'll turn their friendship into fell despite,
Their love to mortal hate, their day to night,
Their hope into despair, their peace to war,
Their joys to pain, their bliss to misery. (I.i.6-9)

Analysis

When this eternal substance of my soul
Did live imprison'd in my wanton flesh,
Each in their function serving other's need,
I was a courtier in the Spanish court:
My name was Don Andrea. (I.i.1-5)

"Caricatured" is a misleading word. As Arthur Freeman suggests, the parodies may be akin to the innumerable burlesques on Hamlet's famous "To be or not to be" (81). The corollary of such a parallel is that Kyd's opening lines may reflect a profound truth about human existence. In the world of the play, at least, the soul and the flesh exist as separate entities, each dependant on the other. Though the soul may be eternal, it cannot escape the prison of the flesh. The two exist therefore in a sort of mutualism, but one in which conflicts certainly arise: the passions of the "wanton flesh" may at times lead the soul in undesirable directions.

The descent into the underworld narrated by the Ghost of Andrea recalls that of Aeneas's descent in Book VI of Virgil's Aeneid. It is noteworthy, however, that Revenge takes the Ghost through the gates of horn. The gates refer to the following famous passage in the Aeneid:

There are two gates of Sleep, one said to be
Of horn, whereby the true shades pass with ease,
The other all white ivory agleam
Without a flaw, and yet false dreams are sent
Through this one by the ghosts to the upper world. (vi. 1211-1215)

The question seems to be intimately bound up with the "theatricality" of the main play. In other words, the Ghost and Revenge sit down to watch a play that unfolds before their eyes. While the exposition progresses from the second to the fifth scene, they are spectators invisible to the characters as well as to the audience. But as spectators, they also walk on the same stage as the characters in the first and last scene of the act. To complicate matters further, Revenge indicates that he has foresight as well as control over the events of the play. All of this is suggestive of a parallel between the actual audience and the two spectators. The audience, after all, could potentially fulfill the roles of Ghost and Revenge - as actors, a playwright, or simply one who knows how the play will end. The gates of horn, then, may attest to the proximity of the play to reality - at least in a symbolic sense.

It is not clear, however, whether an objective "reality" can exist even in the world of The Spanish Tragedy. The events surrounding Balthazar in the battle, for example, are hopelessly confused in the opening act. The Lord General tells a poetic but vague story of a "single fight" between Horatio and Balthazar; both Horatio and Lorenzo each tell a version that contradicts the General's version, and in Portugal Villuppo invents an entirely different version altogether. When recounting the turn of events to Bellimperia, furthermore, Horatio claims that the goddess Nemesis granted divine aid to Balthazar in defeating Andrea. Perhaps it makes the most sense to first follow the General's version, and then to assume that Lorenzo and Horatio both fought Balthazar. But it may also be a mistake to believe that everything should make sense.

In a play that's premise is a seemingly whimsical decision passed by the Queen of Hades, the plot may not necessarily follow a clear linear progression. The existence of a "higher" (inaccessible) order finds a loose parallel in Hieronimo's masque. The Marshall pleases both his king and the Portuguese ambassador by showing that both of their countries have been previously conquered by English forces (the history told is only partly accurate, but surely would have pleased an English audience). History, in a large sense, is composed of small stories. With such a perspective, neither Spain nor Portugal should worry about the recent battle. But this larger history usually remains inaccessible; the King "sound[s] not well the mystery" until Hieronimo explains the significance of the masque. Plays-within-plays, most of them simply dumb shows, will be important throughout the play.

In light of the above, the world of The Spanish Tragedy becomes unstable and volatile. The King, who so spontaneously rewards the General with a chain, does not quite know how to deal with Horatio and Lorenzo. Before issuing an awkward partition of their reward for capturing Balthazar, he must first reaffirm his authority: "Will both abide the censure of my doom"? Across the border, the Portuguese Viceroy finds himself on even more unstable sands. The evidence that inspires him to believe Villuppo's story instead of Alexandro's is nothing but his oneiric visions. And his dreams, as the audience perceives, are simply false. Moreover, his interpretation of the vision as confirming Villuppo's accusation remains entirely whimsical. Or perhaps not only does "evil news fly faster still than good"; it also flies with more credibility. In any case, the Viceroy undermines his own authority in the opening act of the play. This is symbolically reflected in his removal of the crown - which he immediately puts back on. The sovereign who abdicates his own power, if such a thing is possible, should not have the authority to take back the same sovereignty.

The exposition, then, has set up an explosive potential for murder, hate, and revenge, coupled with love. With Bellimperia, love and revenge will merge together in a sub-plot surrounding Horatio. The action of the play, however, has just only begun. As the Ghost duly notes, the promised death of Balthazar is still nowhere in sight. But Revenge promises much more than his initial statement - indeed, a massively chaotic event that will turn the order of things upside down.

Act 2, Scene 1

Lorenzo tries to comfort Balthazar with regards to Bellimperia, suggesting that in due time she will come to like the Portuguese prince. Balthazar expresses his unconsoled spirit in a short pessimistic monologue. Lorenzo assures him that they will find out the reason behind Bellimperia's coldness; he has already formulated a plan to uncover the truth.

Lorenzo calls Bellimperia's servant Pedringano to the scene. Lorenzo speaks of a past favor that he granted Pedringano: when the Duke of Castile discovered Pedringano's role as a go-between for Andrea and Bellimperia, Lorenzo protected the servant from the Duke's wrath. The same prince now promises Pedringano an additional favor of a gold chain - should he simply speak the truth. Pedringano agrees, and Lorenzo asks him about the nature of Bellimperia's love since Andrea's death. Who loves her, and who does she love? The servant claims ignorance, but Lorenzo draws his sword in response and threatens to kill him. Pedringano finally admits that Bellimperia loves Horatio. He has perused the love letters that she sent Horatio. Lorenzo grants him the reward and, promising a further reward, demands to be notified when the "lovers meet." Balthazar thus resolves to take revenge on Horatio, despite the risks involved:

Thus hath he ta'en my body by his force,
And now by sleight would captivate my soul:
But in his fall I'll tempt the destinies,
And either lose my life, or win my love. (II.i.130-133)

Act 2, Scene 2

Horatio and Bellimperia enter the scene. Pedringano, pointing out the lovers for Lorenzo and Balthazar, places the two princes in hiding. Horatio wonders why, their love now made so clear, Bellimperia shows signs of "inward languishments." Bellimperia responds through an extended metaphor, comparing her heart to a sailing ship: she is still recovering from stormy times (presumably Andrea's death), and now seeks refuge in the port that is Horatio's love. Hidden above, Balthazar expresses his dismay, but Lorenzo looks on gleefully - for he already envisions "Horatio's fall." The two lovers continue their dialogue and soon agree to meet in a secluded field the very same evening. In the meantime, however, they must hide their love from the Duke of Castile. Lorenzo concludes the scene with a promise to send "[Horatio's] soul into eternal night."

Act 2, Scene 3

The King of Spain enters with the Duke of Castile and the Portuguese ambassador. The King asks the Duke what Bellimperia thinks of Balthazar. The Duke responds that while his daughter disclaims any love for the Portuguese prince at the moment, she will in time heed his advice - "Which is to love him, or forgo [her father's] love." The King thus asks the ambassador to advise the Viceroy in favor of a marriage between Bellimperia and Balthazar. The advantages for Portugal will be many: it will receive a generous dowry, its tribute will be released, and it will be intimately linked to the Spanish crown. The King finally requests that the Viceroy set the marriage date and reminds the ambassador to bring Balthazar's ransom for Horatio. After the ambassador leaves, the King once again turns to the Duke of Castile and presses him to convince Bellimperia in favor of the marriage - for the good of Spain.

Act 2, Scene 4

Horatio and Bellimperia meet in the field and walk towards a bower. To guard against anyone approaching, Bellimperia entrusts Pedringano to guard the gate, but he reveals his treacherous intentions in an aside. The two lovers engage in amorous talk, but just as their intimacy increases, Lorenzo and Balthazar enter the scene with Serberine and Pedringano (the latter in disguise). The men take Bellimperia aside, hang up Horatio, and then stab him. Bellimperia pleads for Horatio's life and then manages to cry for help before the men take her and leave the scene of murder.

Act 2, Scene 5

Hieronimo enters in his nightshirt, having been awaked by a woman's cry for help. To his dismay, he finds a hanged man - and suspects that the murderers have attempted to incriminate him. Upon cutting the corpse down, however, he recognizes it as his son Horatio. Hieronimo breaks down into a tormented soliloquy, apostrophizing his dead son. His wife Isabella enters the scene and commiserates with him, whereupon Hieronimo vows to exact due revenge: his son's bloody handkerchief will not leave him until he kills the murderers - and neither will the corpse be buried! The two carry off the corpse, and Hieronimo concludes the scene with a monologue in Latin (see section "Marginalia in The Spanish Tragedy" of this ClassicNote for a translation and brief commentary).

Act 2, Scene 6

The Ghost once again questions Revenge's motives. Why has he been made to witness men kill his friend Horatio and abuse his love Bellimperia? Revenge advises him to remain patient, reaffirming Balthazar's imminent downfall.

Analysis

From the opening of the second act, Lorenzo shows himself to be a scheming villain. A man of his position wields a significant amount of power: he can easily afford to both bribe and threaten Pedringano, and thus obtain information about Bellimperia's most private secret. But what could be Lorenzo's motive in helping Balthazar? The most sympathetic reading would suggest that he disapproves of his sister's private affair with Horatio. Any loyal brother would be outraged to find his sister in a secluded field, clearly engaged in an illicit relationship, yet the unpleasant episode with Pedringano demonstrates that Lorenzo can make no such claim to righteousness, or, for that matter, brotherly feelings. Besides, the Spanish prince attests his loyalty to Balthazar from the very opening lines of the scene, and the audience has no reason to believe that he is lying. So perhaps it is simply a matter of rivalry and jealousy. In the previous act, after all, even the sovereign King hesitated between Lorenzo and Horatio's respective claims to glory.

Whatever his motives, Lorenzo serves as a lens through which Balthazar and Pedringano pass to focus on Horatio's death. Love becomes hate: Lorenzo's love for Balthazar, Balthazar's love for Bellimperia, and Pedringano's love for gold are all channeled into Balthazar's desire for revenge. The Portuguese prince may, incidentally, be the least culpable of the three conspirators. In contrast with Lorenzo's vileness, Balthazar's earnest monologue at the end of the first scene speaks to his genuine and sincere character. He has indeed found both his body and soul captured by Horatio, so a desire for personal revenge may only be natural - just as natural, in any case, as Bellimperia's desire to take revenge on Balthazar. In both cases love has been transformed into hate.

The resulting murder of Horatio is criminal and cruel. The murder scene undoubtedly marks the climax of the sub-plot surrounding Horatio, and it consequently sets Hieronimo's quest for revenge in motion. Quartos published in and after 1615 feature a woodcut of the murder scene with Horatio hanging in a tree. In all its appearances of injustice, however, it is not clear whether the law would condemn the murder very harshly. Horatio and Bellimperia are, after all, carrying out their affair in hiding from the law (the Duke and the King). To illustrate the point with an extreme example: where does justice stand when a murder kills another murderer? Later in the play, Hieronimo will be forced to negotiate between juridical and personal justice.

Meanwhile, the consequences of the murder are upheld by the King of Spain in a twist of dramatic irony. Bellimperia will be forced to marry none other than Balthazar, whether she likes it or not. Conversely, the preceding murder scene becomes even more excessive and pointless. The arranged marriage will return to Balthazar both his soul (Bellimperia) and his body (he will rise to rule over Horatio through his heir). The Portuguese prince thus retrospectively loses his motives for revenge. Behind all such confusion, Revenge's massive scheme begins to show its destructive contours.

Even as the plot takes quick dramatic turns, the staging details should not be overlooked. Objects take on particular significance as things thrown against the mind (etymologically ob + jectum = "thrown against"). To both Balthazar and Horatio, Bellimperia's dropped glove in the first act becomes an extension of her hand, and thus a metonym for her favor. Similarly in the second act, Horatio's handkerchief becomes in Hieronimo's mind a projection of his son's presence, or a metonymy for the unburied corpse. Full of blood and sweat, it is as if Horatio continues to circulate in the play - and he indeed does, as the audience will later see.

Through the emphasis on select objects, Kyd evokes the poetics of stage-space. The audience notices that Lorenzo and Balthazar hide above in the second scene of the act. From the heights, the two men both envision Horatio's "fall." When they actually murder Horatio, however, they hang him up; it is Hieronimo who actually takes the body down. In a literal sense, then, neither Lorenzo nor Balthazar have yet to see "Horatio's fall." This will come later in the play, with dire consequences. In the meantime, the attention to space and height will be taken up again when the curtains are lifted for the third act.

Act 3, Scene 1

In Portugal, the Viceroy laments his fate - thrown from the heights of glory to the depths of despair, and by hate deprived of a son! A nobleman remarks that he never would have suspected hate in Alexandro's heart. The "countenance" of words, it seems, cannot be trusted. Villuppo continues to incriminate Alexandro but the Viceroy cuts him off in anger - the traitor shall be summoned and condemned to death.

Alexandro enters with a nobleman who encourages him to "hope the best." In front of the Viceroy, Alexandro insists on his innocence in vain. His body is bound to a stake, and preparations are made to burn him alive. Now turning to Villuppo, Alexandro declares that his "guiltless death will be aveng'd." At this point the Ambassador arrives with news from Spain: Balthazar is alive and well. The Viceroy, reading through the letters from Spain, immediately sets Alexandro free and demands to know Villuppo's motives for betrayal. The latter submits himself humbly to the Viceroy, expressing remorse for his shameless desire "for reward and hope to be preferr'd." The Viceroy sends Villuppo away, brushing aside Alexandro's movement to entreat for mercy. All exit to settle matters with Spain and commemorate Alexandro's loyalty.

Act 3, Scene 2

Hieronimo enters the scene, still bemoaning his son's death in a series of apostrophes. He cries to the heavens for justice in form of revenge and continues his monologue until a letter suddenly falls from the sky. The letter is from Bellimperia - written in blood for want of ink - and informs Hieronimo that Balthazar and Lorenzo conspired together the kill his son. Hieronimo suspects a trap, and thus warily sets out to confirm Bellimperia's accusations.

Pedringano enters, followed by Lorenzo. The prince explains that Bellimperia has been confined by the Duke for "some disgrace." He offers to hear Hieronimo's request in place of Bellimperia, but Hieronimo declines and leaves the scene. Suspecting Serberine of revealing the truth about Horatio's murder, Lorenzo gives Pedringano gold and sends him to kill Serberine the very same night. Lorenzo then reveals his dual manipulation: he will send guards on patrol to capture Pedringano in the act of murdering Serberine, thus ridding himself of future risks. As he puts it: "better it's that base companions die, / Than by their life to hazard our good haps."

Act 3, Scene 3

Pedringano enters with a pistol in his hand. He expresses his qualms about the prospect of shooting Serberine but is comforted by the thought of his reward. Also reassuring is the belief that, should he be captured, Lorenzo will protect him. Three guards arrive in the meantime, wondering why they have been commanded to watch such a secluded place. Serberine comes on scene, and Pedringano shoots him almost immediately. The guards in turn capture Pedringano and take him to see Hieronimo.

Act 3, Scene 4

The following morning, Lorenzo confesses his fears to Balthazar: he believes that their crime has been betrayed to Hieronimo. A page enters to announce that Serberine has been killed by Pedringano. Balthazar is outraged, and Lorenzo advises him to take due vengeance by complaining to the King of Spain. Balthazar rushes off to see the trials. Alone on stage, Lorenzo gloats over his ability to manipulate the Portuguese prince: "I lay the plot: he prosecutes the point; / I set the trap: he breaks the worthless twigs." A messenger arrives with a request for help from Pedringano, who has been imprisoned. In response Lorenzo sends his page bearing a box and a message: the box contains Lorenzo's signed pardon, which Pedringano shall open only at the very last moment. Alone once again, Lorenzo ponders the course of his fortune. He dares not speak out loud, however, for fear of "unfriendly ears."

Act 3, Scene 5

On the way to find Pedringano in prison, the page is overcome with curiosity and opens the box - only to find nothing inside. He realizes that Lorenzo intends to trick Pedringano. For fear of being hanged himself, however, the page cannot act on his sympathy.

Act 3, Scene 6

Hieronimo remarks on the irony of his profession as Marshall: why should "neither gods nor men be just" to he who judges other men justly? Officers enter with Pedringano, letter in hand, followed by Lorenzo's page. After a series of exchanges, highly impudent on Pedringano's part (he believes the page to carry a royal pardon), Pedringano is taken away by the hangman. Hieronimo expresses outrage over Pedringano's audacity as a convicted murderer, whereupon he suddenly remembers his dead son and exits the scene.

Act 3, Scene 7

Hieronimo is once again alone, deploring the weight of his sufferance. His "tortured soul" has so far has been unable to reach the "empyreal heights" of justice and revenge. The hangman enters frantically with a letter in hand, claiming that they should not have killed Pedringano. Hieronimo sends him away with a promise to protect him from harm and opens the letter: Pedringano has written his final words to Lorenzo, threatening to reveal the truth before he is hanged. From the letter, Hieronimo deduces that it was Lorenzo and Balthazar who murdered his son. He now realizes the truth behind Bellimperia's letter and resolves to demand justice in front of the King.

Act 3, Scene 8

In Hieronimo's home, Isabella "runs lunatic" despite the maid's best efforts to comfort her. It seems that Horatio's death, combined with the mystery of his murderers, has forced her tormented soul into a frenzy.

Act 3, Scene 9

Bellimperia sits at a window, bemoaning her powerless situation in captivity. She apostrophizes Hieronimo and Andrea before resolving to wait patiently for her release. The custodian Christophil enters to fetch her.

Act 3, Scene 10

Lorenzo enters with Balthazar and confirms Pedringano's death with his page. Deeming the affair to have "o'erblown," Lorenzo decides to set his sister free. He advises Balthazar to "deal cunningly" with Bellimperia just as she arrives, full of fury and contempt. Lorenzo claims that he merely "sought to save [her] honour and [his] own" through his actions; having come to Hieronimo's estate with Balthazar to settle some official matters, he found Bellimperia with Horatio. Upon recalling her "old disgrace" with Andrea and the Duke's consequent wrath, he saw it best to dispose with Horatio and hide his sister away for some time. Bellimperia seems unconvinced, but the dialogue is diverted towards an increasingly cryptic exchange concerning Balthazar, Bellimperia, and their relation to love and fear.

Analysis

The third act opens with the resolution of the sub-plot that takes place in Portugal. The scene may seem superfluous to the larger picture of The Spanish Tragedy. Unlike the death of Horatio, the tensions between the Viceroy, Alexandro, and Villuppo bear no direct influence on the outcome of the play. It is precisely because of this ambiguous relation to the rest of the play, however, that the scene raises several important questions.

Like Hieronimo, the Viceroy believes that his son has been unjustly murdered and finds himself in the depths of despair. He would like to lie at the "lowest" point possible so as to avoid falling further (in Act 1 Scene 3, he states in Latin that "He who prostrate hath no where to fall"). But even at such a lifetime low, the Viceroy still sits too high in his throne to commiserate with the equally tormented Alexandro, whose words of protest are suppressed. Luckily, the ambassador soon brings good news from Spain. At this point, the Viceroy is overjoyed and hastily makes amends with Alexandro. Villuppo, in turn, is condemned to the "bitterest torments" - even worse than those prepared for Alexandro. Has justice been served?

This question takes on interesting dimensions when considered in relation to Hieronimo. The Marshall, too, finds himself with a murdered son, and also desires justice. But just as Lorenzo's motive for killing Horatio remains unresolved, so too are their respective claims to having captured Balthazar shrouded in mystery. It is not out of the question that Horatio took undue credit in the battlefield. Men are easily corrupt: the mere desire for gold and glory made Villuppo betray his fellow noblemen. The same can be said for Pedringano, who had presumably been well treated by fair Bellimperia for many years. Thus seen, the Viceroy's initial mistake destabilizes Hieronimo's righteous claim to justice and revenge. Hieronimo may be mistaken to believe Horatio's total innocence in the affair - or, for that matter, Pedringano's damning letter to Lorenzo. Does Hieronimo have a redeeming quality lacking in the Viceroy? All of this will eventually call into question the fine distinction between justice and revenge.

Meanwhile, Lorenzo continues to manipulate friends and foes alike. As a distrustful Machiavellian schemer he anticipates, in many ways, Shakespeare's Iago (the play had its own direct source in Giraldi Cinthio's Hecatommithi [1565]). Unlike Iago, however, the Castilian prince is primarily concerned with covering up his tracks. Once the murder is committed, he falls into an almost paranoiac state of mind, whereby both Serberine and Pedringano must be immediately killed off. There is no reason to believe that either of the two would have revealed the truth behind Horatio's murder - especially since they were both present at the crime scene. (Serberine's case is particularly curious, given his entirely undeveloped character; perhaps he serves to show that Lorenzo orchestrates a gratuitous murder.)

Justice or revenge for Hieronimo, then, only emerges out of fear and uncertainty. If Lorenzo had kept Pedringano close to him, Bellimperia's accusations may never have been confirmed. Be betraying Pedringano to the law, Lorenzo involuntarily undoes the order that he has attempted to impose on the stage - a mistake aptly symbolized by the empty box into which the page peeks. The box, in Pedringano trusting eyes, contains the law. It is at once the "righteous" law (a royal pardon) and the law of criminals (mutual trust, without which no criminal organization can operate). By sending a box with nothing but empty promises inside, Lorenzo symbolically obliterates the natural order of things. In other words, he advances the total upheaval that Revenge prophesized at the end of the first act: "I'll turn their friendship into fell despite, / Their love to mortal hate, their day to night," etc.

Also noteworthy in the third act is the introduction of madness into the play. To a certain extent, Revenge's prophesy in the first act already adumbrates madness - if only in a figurative, chaotic sense. In Isabella, however, the word takes on a concrete form. To her maid's alarm, she begins to run around, frantically searching for Horatio as well as his killers. While Isabella's scene is short, it suggests an interesting reason, or etiology, behind her madness. Her last words in the scene read: "But say, where shall I find the men, the murderers, / That slew Horatio? Whither shall I run / To find them out that murdered my son?" The impelling force behind her frenzy, it seems, is the frustration of not even knowing the identity of her son's murderers. Her disease is thus the absence of history (recall the discussion of history and stories in the analysis of the first act). And yet she calls for herbs to "purge the heart" - as if the disease were an internal matter, and moreover one of waste. It is this paradoxical intentional/external tension that Hieronimo carries on in the second half of the third act.

Act 3, Scene 11

Two Portuguese men enter in search of the Duke of Castile. Hieronimo points out the correct house for them, whereupon it becomes clear that the two men are actually looking for Lorenzo. Hieronimo suddenly embarks on a rant about finding "Despair and Death" on the left-hand path, at the end of which the men will find Lorenzo in a hellish scene. The two men leave the scene, deeming Hieronimo either a "passing lunatic" or one who has lost his wits in old age.

Act 3, Scene 12

Hieronimo enters with dagger and halter in hand. He contemplates committing suicide, but decides against it - after all, "Who would revenge Horatio's murder then?" He throws away the dagger and halter, then picks them up again before the King arrives.

The King and the Portuguese ambassador arrive with the Duke and Lorenzo. Hieronimo cries "Justice, O justice to Hieronimo," but the King does not quite hear him and Lorenzo sends him away. Meanwhile, the ambassador brings good news from Portugal: the Viceroy has consented to the marriage between Balthazar and Bellimperia. He has moreover decided to relinquish the throne to his son, effectively making Bellimperia a queen. As the Spanish King and Duke express their joy, the ambassador mentions that he has also brought Balthazar's ransom.

Upon hearing his son's name, Hieronimo once again cries for the King's attention: "Justice, O, justice, justice, gentle king!" Lorenzo attempts to keep him away, but in vain. Hieronimo exclaims wildly, "Give me my son!" and begins to dig with his dagger, announcing his resignation from the position of Marshall. The King demands for Hieronimo to be restrained, but the latter quickly takes his leave. Lorenzo suggests that Hieronimo has gone mad and that his office should be taken away. The King decides to proceed more prudently, and in the meantime sends Hieronimo the ransom due to his son.

Act 3, Scene 13

Hieronimo enters with a book in hand and delivers a speech that begins "Vindicta mihi" ("Revenge is due to me")! Since heaven revenges every ill, Hieronimo declares, he must serve the will of heaven. He has failed to find official redress for his son's murder, and therefore must revenge Horatio's death with his own devices. To do this he will first dissemble quiet and ignorance, thus buying time until he knows "when, where, and how" to take revenge.

A servant brings news of several petitioners who have come to see Hieronimo. Three citizens each voice their complaints and hand in their legal papers. Hieronimo then notices Don Bazulto the senex (Latin for "old man"), who alone stands aside mute. Hieronimo inquires after the senex's suite and in response receives a document titled "The humble supplication Of Don Bazulto for his murder'd son." The title triggers a reaction in Hieronimo: reminded painfully of Horatio's death, he identifies intimately with the old man. Hieronimo takes out his handkerchief for the old man to wipe his eyes, but stops mid-action when he realizes its former owner. Now entirely unsettled, Hieronimo gives the senex his handkerchief as well as his purse.

As if he has forgotten his office as Marshall, Hieronimo delivers an ecstatic monologue about paternal love and the necessity for revenge - even if it entails descending into hell. The rhapsody culminates in Hieronimo tearing the petition papers in an uncanny imitation of tearing apart the limbs of his son's murderers. He leaves the scene, followed by the petitioners, then reappears moments later. One of the petitioners cries that his lease worth ten pounds has been torn up, to which Hieronimo responds that he "gave it never a wound." Indeed caught in a strange rapture, he addresses the senex first as his son, then as a Fury who summons him to the underworld. Hieronimo finally sees the senex as "the lively image of [his] grief" and takes him away to see Isabel.

Act 3, Scene 14

The Spanish King welcomes the Portuguese Viceroy with the announcement that Balthazar is betrothed to Bellamira. Will Portugal accept the marriage, scheduled to take place the following day? The Viceroy responds positively and gives up his crown on the spot: he would now like to live a solitary and religious life, ever thankful that his son is alive and well. All except the Duke and Lorenzo exit to celebrate. The Duke turns somewhat bashfully to his son and asks about his relationship to the Marshall: "It is suspected, and reported too, / That thou, Lorenzo, wrong'st Hieronimo." Given Hieronimo's importance to the King and the court in general, it would be highly undesirable for the King to hear him speak negatively of Lorenzo. Lorenzo denies any wrongdoing, despite his father's suspicion, and maintains that Hieronimo is "distract[ed] in mind" and simply mistaken. The Duke summons Hieronimo to settle the matter.

Balthazar and Bellimperia, meanwhile, are engaged in conversation. Just as the lady prudently expresses her newfound love for the prince, her father arrives. The Duke says that he has forgiven her for the affair with Andrea. Hieronimo now appears, and the Duke confronts him gently about the rumors concerning Lorenzo. Hieronimo denies vehemently any wrongdoing on Lorenzo's part, so all parties are happy and reconciled - at least on the surface.

Act 3, Scene 15

Revenge has fallen asleep, and the Ghost wakens him in alarm - it appears that Hieronimo has befriended Lorenzo! Revenge assures him that Hieronimo has not forgotten his son and stages a dumb show for his sake. The Ghost does not understand the show. Revenge explains that it represented Hymen, the god of marriage, blowing out the nuptial torches and covering them with blood.

Analysis

Following in the footsteps of his wife, Hieronimo shows clear signs of madness in the third act. When the two Portuguese men mention that they are looking for Lorenzo, Hieronimo promptly begins a rapturous speech, vividly evoking a hellish picture. His increased poetic sensibility reflects his generally heightened verbal and aural sensibilities. The mere words "son" and "murder" - not to mention the names Lorenzo and Horatio - are enough to send Hieronimo into a frenzy. In the twelfth scene of the act, for example, Hieronimo immediately picks up the ambassador's mention of his name (the question "who calls Horatio?" suggests that he is not quite within earshot) and appeals repeatedly to the king for justice. He is captive, it seems, to a deep and instinctive force.

But what, exactly, does he want? To be sure, he calls for justice and revenge - or ideally, revenge through justice. It is clear, however, that different forces are working within Hieronimo. His appeal for justice in front of the king begins well, but ends with him furiously digging the ground and declaring his resignation. Instead of capitalizing on the king's attention - and finally letting justice be served - Hieronimo is carried away by the desire for vengeance: "Give me my son!. . . I'll go marshal up the fiends up in hell, / To be avenged on you all for this." To the King, who cannot understand these words as well as the audience, it is as if Hieronimo is himself acting another dumb show. The King thus asks: "What means this outrage"? As the with dumb show in Act 1 Scene 5, he cannot "sound well the mystery."

Hieronimo compromises himself in front of the King and thus compromises justice as well. From the "vindicta mihi" speech in the following scene, it is clear that he has not fallen into a state of total derangement. Hieronimo still exercises enough wits to embark on a bit of Machiavellian scheming himself: he will play dumb until he finds the right moment for vengeance. One wonders, then, whether Hieronimo really desires justice - and what the word means to him. When he repeats it to the King no less than five times, he seems to call into question the very meaning of the word itself. Perhaps the scene in which he contemplates suicide can shed some light on the matter.

The opening of the twelfth scene resonates with an earlier scene in the play. It repeats, in fact, a train of thought that Hieronimo articulated Act 2 Scene 5 (in the lament that he delivers in Latin). One the one hand, he would like to join his son in death. On the other hand, he feels a need for revenge that is almost a duty, or even a categorical imperative: "Who will revenge Horatio's murder then?" As with Isabella, the thought of Horatio's murderers represents a force not complimentary, but contrary to the natural desire of a grieving parent. This dagger and halter capture the duality between Hieronimo's death wish and the imperative to revenge. These are the same objects used in Horatio's murder, and are thus particularly fitting for the father's suicide. At the same time, they are weapons well-suited to exacting revenge. To be, or not to be - critics often draw a comparison between Hamlet and Hieronimo, with good reason.

As the Marshall of Spain, the best way for Hieronimo to satisfy his need for revenge is through justice: not necessarily in the name of righteousness or the law, but as a means to an end. For Hieronimo, who has spent his life doling out justice as an official, the principle is ironically subjugated by his personal needs. When the authority of the King fails to justify the principle, Hieronimo turns to the heavens: "Ay, heaven will be revenged or every will; / Nor will they suffer murder unrepaid. / Then stay, Hieronimo, attend their will." From such a vantage point, revenge can be justified independently of authority and power. By appropriating religious principles, Hieronimo elevates himself to the same level as, say, the Viceroy, who condemns Villuppo to death. So the troubling parallel reappears once again.

Similar to Shakespeare's portrait of Hamlet, Hieronimo's character is shrouded in mystery. At times rational, at times frenzied, he traces a confusing path through the long third act of The Spanish Tragedy. With the poor citizens and senex in the thirteenth scene, for example, he is completely carried away by the thought of revenge and rips all the official papers presented to him. The senex's tragedy is poignantly but irrationally reduced to his own personal tragedy. Yet only one scene later, Hieronimo smoothly negotiates his treacherous act of forgiveness, seemingly in full control of his faculties. The Ghost, in any case, is fooled by Hieronimo's performance. But just as there exists a higher order of things (manifest in Revenge), appearances may not count for very much. As one nobleman put it aptly in Act 3 Scene 1, "words have several works, / And there's no credit in the countenance."

Act 4, Scene 1

Bellimperia berates Hieronimo for his inaction thus far: why has he neglected to avenge his son's murder? Hieronimo excuses himself, stating that he was previously unsure as to whether Bellimperia's letter contained the truth. For him, Bellimperia's desire for revenge now represents a sign from heaven: "all the saints do sit soliciting / For vengeance on those cursed murderers." He declares his resolve to exact revenge, and Bellimperia agrees to help him carry out his plot.

Balthazar and Lorenzo arrive, asking Hieronimo to provide the night's entertainment for the King. The Marshall readily agrees. A play that he wrote in his youth shall be performed - by none other than the two men, Hieronimo himself, and Bellimperia. The plot involves a knight and his wife Perseda, the Turkish emperor Soliman, and one of his Bashaws. Hoping to arrange a marriage between Soliman and Perseda, the Bashaw kills the knight. In retribution, Perseda kills Soliman and then commits suicide. Hieronimo will play the Bashaw, Balthazar will be Soliman, Lorenzo will act the knight, and Bellimperia, naturally, will play Perseda.

Balthazar calls for a comedy instead, but Hieronimo rejects the suggestion. He moreover stipulates that each character should speak in a different language. The play will thus be performed in Latin, Greek, Italian, and French. Balthazar once again objects, stating that such a mixture would only result in confusion. To this, Hieronimo promises that he will deliver an oration - and reveal a surprise - that will resolve everything in the last scene.

Act 4, Scene 2

Isabella stands at Horatio's deathplace, weapon in hand. Seeing that "neither piety nor pity moves / The king to justice or compassion," she vows to avenge herself on the very spot where her son was murdered. She cuts down the arbor where Horatio was /'/hanged and delivers a soliloquy, cursing the garden and apostrophizing Hieronimo before stabbing herself.

Act 4, Scene 3

Hieronimo enters with the Duke of Castile, who surveys Hieronimo's earnest preparations for the evening. Upon Hieronimo's request, the Duke agrees to give the king a copy of the play, as well as toss Hieronimo the key to the gallery once the royal train has entered. Balthazar passes through briefly to help with the setup. Alone on stage, Hieronimo prepares himself mentally for the evening:

Bethink thyself, Hieronimo,
Recall thy wits. . .
The plot is laid of dire revenge
On, then, Hieronimo, pursue revenge;
For nothing wants but acting of revenge. (IV.iii.22-30)

Act 4, Scene 4

The King arrives with the Viceroy and the Duke of Castile. The King hands the Viceroy a copy of the play, translated into English for easier understanding. The play is performed as previously summarized by Hieronimo. Hieronimo's character stabs Balthazar's, after which Bellimperia's character stabs Lorenzo's and herself. The play ends to the enthusiastic applause of the King and the Viceroy. Hieronimo then delivers the final speech: while the play may have seemed "fabulously counterfeit," he explains, it was in fact a very real spectacle. Hieronimo reveals Horatio's corpse on stage (presumably by lifting the curtains, of which he previously spoke) and declaims his accomplished revenge scheme, as well as his motives therein. Finally, "Hieronimo / Author and actor in this tragedy" runs to hang himself.

The King and the Viceroy break the locked doors and rush to detain Hieronimo. Along with the Duke of Castile, they demand to know Hieronimo's motives for orchestrating the murders. Hieronimo says in few words that he sought revenge for his son, then refuses to speak any more on the subject. The King calls for torturers, but Hieronimo bites out his tongue. The King and the Duke insist that he can still write. Hieronimo gestures for a knife to mend his pen, with he uses to stab both the Duke and himself. The King and the Viceroy exit in mourning.

Act 4, Scene 5

The Ghost declares his desires satisfied. He arranges with Revenge to have Bellimperia and Horatio treated well; in contrast, Lorenzo, Balthazar, Serberine, and Pedringano will be sent to the worst parts of hell. The two return to the underworld with Revenge's last words:

Then haste we down to meet thy friends and foes:
To place thy friends in ease, the rest in woes;
For here though death hath end their misery,
I'll there begin their endless tragedy. (IV.v.45-48)

Analysis

After the lengthy third act, almost all the loose ends of the play have been tied up. The wheel of fate is once again set in motion: all that remains is for Hieronimo's play to be staged. First, however, Isabelle commits suicide in the second scene. Readers as well as producers are faced with the question of how to interpret the scene: when she sets out to take revenge on nature, cutting down the arbor where Horatio was hanged, has she gone completely mad? Her earlier signs of lunacy suggest a positive answer. But it may be an oversimplification to reduce her actions to "madness" as such, for to do so is to bereave her suicide of rationality or meaning.

Isabella's suicide, in fact, emerges out of a logic entirely consistent with her earlier words. In Act 3 Scene 8, she expresses a longing for Horatio that is forgotten - or overridden - by her desire to find his murderers. It is unclear whether Hieronimo has told her of Lorenzo and Balthazar by the fourth act. In any case, Isabelle would be powerless to take revenge on the two young men. All she can do, then, is to "revenge [her]self upon this place" where Horatio met his untimely death. It is a gesture of protest, indeed a denial of any further life in a place that is testament to her son's death: "Fruitless for ever may this garden be, / Barren the earth." Her own suicide also can be understood in a similar manner. Apart from joining her son in death, Isabella's suicide is also designed to prevent herself from engendering further life: "as I curse this tree from further fruit, / So shall my womb be cursed for his sake." She, too, is part of nature; she, too, will join nature in death.

As for Hieronimo's plot, it unfolds exactly as envisioned. Just like Lorenzo, it seems, the Marshall has the gift of dissimulation and manipulation. The play itself is simple in plot, but is nonetheless intriguing. Why should it be written in four languages? Hieronimo declares at the end of the first scene: "Now shall I see the fall of Babylon, / Wrought by the heavens in this confusion." The phrase is dramatically ironic, insofar as Revenge has been working invisibly to create confusion - and doubly ironic, insofar as Revenge represents hell rather than heaven. In context, "the heavens" also points to Hieronimo himself. He has the equivalent of divine authority in the righteousness of his murder, as well as in his authorship (author derives from the Latin auctor, or "authority"). He is the chef d'orchestre, as it were.

As for the representation of Babel itself, the choice is appropriate. Babylon was one of the largest cities of the ancient world, believed to be both luxurious and corrupt. It was there that the Tower of Babel was built so high as to menace the heavens, and it was there that God punished mankind for its arrogance, spreading linguistic confusion all over the world (see Genesis 11:1-9). Balthazar and Lorenzo would make model citizens of mythical Babylon, as they are rich, powerful, and corrupt. Bellimperia herself bears the unfortunate name of Bellimperia - beautiful and powerful. They are all testament to the confusion that mankind brought upon itself through the love of wealth and power.

To the King, the play is once again like a dumb show. He requires an English translation to comprehend it, and even then he does not understand that the "fabulously counterfeit" stage is not so counterfeit after all. He cannot grasp the meaning of Horatio's corpse on stage. Just as with the dumb show in Act 1 Scene 5, Hieronimo must explain its significance - which he does at some length. But curiously, no members of the royal audience seem to understand his explanation. The King, the Viceroy, and the Duke all frantically demand to know his motives:

King. Speak, traitor. . . speak!
. . .
Vic. Why has thou murdered my Balthazar?
Cast. Why has thou butchered both my children thus? (IV.iv.164-168.)

Why, then, does Hieronimo refuse to explain in greater detail the events that led up to the play-within-a-play? Perhaps his silence constitutes a form of extended revenge. The death of Horatio caused both him and his wife tremendous sufferance. By refusing to reveal the full history behind the tragic play-within-a-play, Hieronimo extends the same sufferance to the fathers of Balthazar and Lorenzo. The King, of course, does not fit into this interpretation, but Hieronimo has also gone to extremes bereft of common sense - or, for that matter, any sense: after biting out his tongue, he stabs the Duke of Castile before committing suicide. In one short scene, he has destroyed the future hopes of Spain and Portugal. Has justice been served? Was his revenge justified? Is revenge ever justified? All strife on earth, in any case, has come to an end: all characters that could potentially further the cycle of revenge have died. But as Revenge notes, the end is only the beginning of more pleasure and pain. It is up to the audience to decide whether his hell is not merely a figure for reality outside the theater.

Several additional scenes are printed in the 1602 edition of The Spanish Tragedy. They are posthumous additions, and clearly composed by a hand other than Kyd's. The first occurs between II. v. 45 and 46; the second replaces III. ii. 65 and part of 66; the third occurs between III. xi. 1 and 2; the fourth comes between III. xii and xiii; and the fifth replaces IV. iv. 169 to 192. Philip Edwards provides an authoritative gloss:

The first, second, and last of the Additions have little commend to them; their literary quality is slight and they do much damage to Kyd's careful unfolding of plot and character. The third Addition is an imaginative piece of rhetoric which does not distort the original play; the fourth is the famous 'Painter scene' and stands head and shoulders above the rest. (lxi)

Fourth Addition, between scenes xii and xiii

Hieronimo's two servants Jacques and Pedro enter the scene. Jacques wonders why Hieronimo has sent for them at midnight. Ever since Horatio's death, remarks Pedro, their master has been "much distraught" and "grows lunatic," sometimes apostrophizing his dead son. Hieronimo enters, searching for Horatio in the garden. He notices his servants and asks them why they have their torches lit in the dark. Despite his claims to the contrary, Hieronimo shows clear signs of madness: "Light me your torches at the mid of noon," he declares. But this is not without reason, for he bears a personal grudge against the night. In the treacherous night was Horatio killed, and if only the moon had shone, Hieronimo believes, the murderer would have seen the grace on Horatio's face and dropped the murder weapon.

Isabella enters the scene and entreats Hieronimo to return indoors. As they converse, a painter knocks on the door. Hieronimo wishes him to come and "paint some comfort." The painter, however, has his own agenda: he desires justice for the murder of his only son. Hieronimo bids everyone else leave and sits down to converse with the painter, who turns out to be the famous artist Don Bazardo. Hieronimo thus asks him whether he can paint the scene of Horatio's murder in impossible detail, with sound and movement, culminating in a frenzied request: "Make me curse, make me rave, make / me cry, make me mad, make me well again. . . and so forth." The painter agrees up until the very last and asks: "And is this the end"? At this, Hieronimo cries that "the end is death and madness!" and beats the Painter into the house. He then reemerges with a book in his hand (thus leading in to the "vindicta mihi" speech).

Analysis

In the opening of the scene, Hieronimo shows signs of madness through his inversion or confusion of such common antitheses as night and day, or sorrow and mirth. The language has a poetic quality clearly distinct from that of Kyd:

Hier.Light me your torches at the mid of noon,
Whenas the sun-god rides in all his glory:
Light me your torches then.
Ped. Then we burn daylight.
Hier. Let it be burnt. (IV.ixxa.28-31)

When the painter enters and expresses his desire for justice, Hieronimo offers a pithy retort: "An ounce of justice, / 'Tis a jewel so inestimable!" Don Bazardo resembles the senex Bazulto in the dramatic function that he serves. Hieronimo identifies intimately with the requests of both men, who have had their sons murdered. Both men therefore trigger a bout of madness in Hieronimo. In the painter scene's case, the effect is something of a psychological exploration. Having heard the painter's great skill in his art, Hieronimo requests a recreation of the murder scene. He makes impossible demands - realistic noise and movement, to begin with, and plenty of surrealistic detail to follow: "Let the clouds scowl, make the moon dark, the / stars extinct. . . the toads croaking, the minutes / jarring, and the clock striking twelve."

What the painter agrees to recreate is essentially Hieronimo's own vision of the fateful night. But what lies at the end of the vision? Declares Hieronimo: "O no, there is no end: the end is death and madness!" To continue along the vision, as Hieronimo has surely done many times over and over, leads to dangerous results. The painter, then, becomes a symbol of Hieronimo's imagination. He must be beaten back into the house, so as to keep "death and madness" at bay.

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