metatheatre – Early Modern &c.

The Spanish Tragedy – Act Three, Scenes 13-15: “Thou art the lively image of my grief”

Scene Thirteen: Hieronimo, distracted and grief-stricken, is approached by petitioners requesting he plead their cases to the king. The group includes Balzuto, who seeks justice for his own murdered son.

Hieronimo enters carrying a book and exclaims, “Vindicta mihi!” (1), Latin for “vengeance is mine” (Neill 79, n1). He then begins a soliloquy in which he works through the idea of revenge. Throughout, he uses Latin quotes; these are from the Roman philosopher Seneca, which is also a hint as to the book he carries (possibly Seneca’s Octavia [Neill 79, n1]). Seneca was in vogue at the time ST was written, and his influence can be seen in many plays of the period.

As in previous scenes, the Latin quotes give an epic feel to Hieronimo’s lines. He muses on active revenge as opposed to delay and patient waiting and recognizes that “heaven will be revenged of every ill, / Nor will they suffer murder unrepaid” (2-3). He also observes that those who do harm can be answered in kind, and that death is the worst that can happen. He then declares, “…I will revenge his death” (20) and concocts a plan. His first step is fooling those in the Spanish court:

…therefore, will I rest me in unrest,
Dissembling quiet in unquietness,
Not seeming that I know their villainies,
That my simplicity may make them think,
That ignorantly I will let all slip–
For ignorance I [know] , and well they know,
Remedium malorum iners est. (29-35)

The Norton translates this last line as “is an ineffective remedy for evils” (Neill 80, n35). While waiting for an opportune moment to act, Hieronimo has decided to feign no knowledge of who murdered his son. His “simplicity” and “quiet in unquietness” will mask his plotting and give the guilty false security. This may also trick them into thinking the murder is indeed “a nine days’ wonder” (3.10.11), and believe they are in the clear. Hieronimo’s calm and courteous demeanor will allow him to wait for the best time to exact revenge.

If this all sounds familiar, it should. In the years after ST, Shakespeare also wrote a play in which the main character is prompted to avenge a murder but takes the better part of the action to muse on what it means to commit such an act. Feigning madness while working through the situation is also in the plot, as is questioning if life is worth the suffering (“To be, or not to be…”). The play is, of course, Hamlet.

Three citizens arrive with legal suits they want Hieronimo to argue on their behalf.* They have no way of knowing that the man they are appealing to for aid is also in pursuit of justice. One petitioner claims a debt, another contests an eviction, but the third, Bazulto, stands apart “With mournful eyes and hands to heaven upreared” (3.13.68). When asked about his suit, Balzuto explains he cannot put his woes into words, but will instead “With ink bewray what blood began in me” (77). This reference to blood is fraught with meaning: passion/anger, the lineage of his family, his son’s blood spilled. It also recalls the letter penned in blood by Bel-Imperia, dropped from her tower prison and similarly meant for Hieronimo’s eyes (3.2). Once more, a letter or document plays a role in advancing the plot.

Hieronimo reads Bazulto’s suit, which begins “…‘The humble supplication / Of Don Bazulto for his murdered son’” (3.13.78-79). Hieronimo is caught off guard and responds,

No sir, it was my murdered son…
Here, take my handkercher and wipe thine eyes,
Whiles wretched I in thy mishaps may see
The lively portrait of my dying self… (80, 83-85).

In Bazulto, he sees himself: a man whose life is sapped by grief, hastening to the grave. The cloth Hieronimo offers is stained with blood and he explains it was taken from the body of Horatio. Is this the scarf given to Andrea by Bel-Imperia, then worn by Horatio in remembrance of his friend? Hieronimo calls it “a token ‘twixt [Horatio’s] soul and me” (88), a promise he will avenge his son’s death. If it is Bel-Imperia’s scarf, it is a tie that unbeknownst to Hieronimo, binds him to the lovers and their own sense of anger and grief.

Hieronimo has lost all composure, and “draws out more objects” (90sd) that he hands to Bazulto, saying “take this, and this—what my purse?– / Ay, this, and that, and all of them are thine, / For all as one are our extremities” (90-92). If Bazulto is the personification of grief, Hieronimo’s actions are that of a man giving grief his all. He begins a long lament decrying his delay in avenging Horatio. If Bazulto, a poor citizen, can actively seek justice for his own lost son, Hieronimo feels he should do as much – if not more:

See, see, O see thy shame, Hieronimo:
See here a loving father to his son;…
If love’s effects so strives in lesser things,
If love enforce such moods in meaner wits,
If love express such power in poor estates–
…Then shamest thou not, Hieronimo, to neglect
The sweet revenge of thy Horatio? (95-96, 99-101, 106-107; italics mine)

The anaphora, or repetition of “if love” at the beginning of the lines, drives home Hieronimo’s feelings of guilt and shame. Bazulto does not have the position or wealth of Hieronimo, but love for his son presses him on. Hieronimo’s actions from five lines earlier do imply, however, that he is now prepared to give everything to his cause. His speech continues with a vow: “I’ll down to hell, and in this passion / Knock at the dismal gates of Pluto’s court, / …Till we do gain that Proserpine may grant / Revenge on them that murderèd my son” (109-110, 120-121). These references connect him with Andrea, who in 1.2 recounted his own journey to the Underworld and experience before Pluto and Prosperpine. Remember, too, that Andrea was placed in the company of Revenge by Proserpine, and the pair sits watching this unfold.

In a fit of passion, Hieronimo tears the petitioners’ requests with his teeth. The petitioners exit the stage in dismay, leaving Hieronimo alone with Balzuto. He now appears to see the image of Horatio in the old man and says to him,

And art thou come, Horatio, from the depth
To ask for justice in this upper earth?
To tell they father thou art unrevenged…
Go back, my son, complain to Aeacus,
For here’s no justice; gentle boy be gone,
For justice is exilèd from the earth: (132-134, 137-139)

If the director chose to have Horatio join Revenge and Andrea, this becomes yet another metatheatrical moment. Balzuto, quietly wondering at his words, asks Hieronimo, “Alas, my lord, whence springs this troubled speech?” (143), but instead of answering, Hieronimo again cries out to his son. Is he truly conflating Bazulto and Horatio? He says to the old man, “But let me look on my Horatio: / Sweet boy, how art thou changed in death’s black shade? …Horatio, thou art older than thy father” (144-145, 149). Bazulto gently tries to tell him he is not his son, but this only enrages Hieronimo: “What, not my son? thou then a Fury art, / …To plague Hieronimo, that is remiss / And seeks not vengeance for Horatio’s death” (152-53, 156-157). The audience or reader must decide if this response is dissembling or actual madness brought on by guilt at not acting more swiftly in his revenge. This, of course, is another similarity to Shakespeare’s Hamlet, in which the lead character also recognizes and blames himself for being dilatory in seeking revenge.

Bazulto answers, “I am a grievèd man and not a ghost” (158), leading Hieronimo to observe, “Thou art the lively image of my grief; / Within thy face my sorrows I may see” (161-162). In the features of the old man, Hieronimo sees his inner turmoil. To him, Bazulto is the embodiment of grief, his physicality an expression of sorrow and loss. Revenge may watch from afar, but grief walks among the living.

Scene Fourteen: The Viceroy arrives to make good on the points agreed upon in Portugal’s treaty with Spain — including the marriage of Baltazar and Bel-Imperia. The Duke of Castile confronts Lorenzo with the rumor that Lorenzo is attempting to undermine Hieronimo in the eyes of the King. He insists Lorenzo and Hieronimo be on good terms once more.

The Viceroy and King confirm Bel-Imperia’s betrothal to Balthazar and that the couple will be married the following day. Like many women over the course of history, Bel-Imperia is a bargaining chip. Instead of being seen as an individual with her own mind and desires, she is a token of favor to cement the newly contracted peace and bring prestige to her family. The Viceroy vows that after the nuptials, he will give Balthazar his crown and spend the remainder of his days in prayer – something that both impresses and pleases the King.

The Duke of Castile and Lorenzo remain after the King and Viceroy exit. They discuss the impending marriage, something Lorenzo has “…longed so happily to see” (48). If he speaks truthfully, rather than simply being politic, it may confirm the theory that he hopes to wield influence on the malleable Balthazar and become a shadow figure of power in the Portuguese court. The Duke then confronts his son with a rumor he has heard:

It is suspected – and reported too —
That thou, Lorenzo, wrong’st Hieronimo,
And in his suits towards his majesty
Still keep’st him back, and seeks to cross his suit. (53-56)

As expected, Lorenzo plays dumb and claims to not understand who would say such a thing. His father makes clear that if true, this is not acceptable, saying, “Lorenzo, know’st thou not the common love / And kindness that Hieronimo hath won / By his deserts within the court of Spain?” (61-63). He tells Lorenzo it would be “a scandal…among the kings” should “Hieronimo exclaim on thee” (69, 67), and insists he answer truthfully regarding the rumors. Lorenzo replies that he cannot control gossip, and Hieronimo’s age and grief are the reason he believes this idle talk. He agrees to be reconciled with Hieronimo, and his father calls for the Knight Marshal to be brought to them.

Bel-Imperia enters with Balthazar, looking downcast. When urged by Balthazar to look more cheerful, she tells him, “My looks, my lord, are fitting for my love, / Which, new begun, can show no brighter yet” (101-102). This excellent reply is both truth and a fitting response; she does not love Balthazar, so looking less than happy is appropriate; at the same time, it was thought fitting for a newly contracted bride to be reticent and modest in her affections. Her father then greets her with lines that cannot be welcome: “Content thyself, for I am satisfied: / It is not now as when Andrea lived, / We have forgotten and forgiven that” (110-112).

Bel-Imperia is silent for the rest of the scene. She makes no response to her father’s slight, and no attempt to defend Andrea or their love. Since Andrea is watching the exchange, a director might have him offer angry gestures, sit sulkily, or take it in impassively (3.15 gives a clue as to what Kyd may have envisioned). Similarly, Bel-Imperia’s wordless response is left to the director’s imagination and reading of the scene.

Hieronimo arrives and the Duke greets him kindly. He tells Hieronimo, who continues to feign madness, that contrary to the rumors Lorenzo is not blocking his suit. If he were, the Duke continues, Hieronimo is held in such high esteem that he himself would be offended. Hieronimo responds by drawing his sword and offering to fight anyone repeating this chatter. Lorenzo loved Horatio, he declares, so the gossip that he is blocking justice for Horatio’s death is shameful.

Balthazar’s response to the reconciliation is either naïve or crafty: “Why this is friendly done, Hieronimo” (162). Does he believe Hieronimo is truly forgiving, or is he perpetuating the ruse? Again, in performance, this depends on the director’s vision. Lorenzo, dissembling as before, says “And thus I hope old grudges are forgot” (163), to which Hieronimo replies, “What else? it were a shame it should not be so” (164). Hieronimo is playing the long game, working to outmaneuver the two men. After they exit, an obviously lucid Hieronimo says in Italian, “someone who shows me more affection than usual has either betrayed me, or wishes to betray me” (Neill 91, n168-169). Hieronimo knows what’s going on, and his use of Italian highlights his disgust at the two men who murdered his son. They are untrustworthy and he knows they are actively working against him. They are undeserving of the more honorable language of Latin, the tongue of epic grief and revenge.

Scene Fifteen: Andrea is angry that Revenge appears to be sleeping through the unfolding events.

Andrea calls out for Erictho and Cerberus to wake and implore Pluto and Proserpine’s aid against Acheron and Erebus, who signify chaos and despair. Erictho and Cerberus are powerful inhabitants of the Underworld, and of course, Pluto and Proserpine placed Andrea with Revenge at the end of 1.1. In a fit of anger and passion, Andrea declares that none have seen “Such fearful sights as poor Andrea sees! / Revenge, awake!” (3.15.5-6). He then scolds his companion, saying, “Awake, Revenge! for thou art ill-advised / To sleep away what thou art warned to watch” (8-9). Revenge may actually have dosed off or Andrea may deem it sleeping since things appear to be veering from his desired outcome. In a misread of the previous scene, he tells Revenge that Lorenzo and Hieronimo are now in league, halting his chance for revenge.

Revenge responds that Andrea’s fears are not grounded. Revenge has its own time and method; it cannot be forced and can only happen at its own pace. Andrea is then given a foretaste of coming events via a dumbshow, which Revenge explains cryptically. The dumbshow suggests the impending marriage will be closely followed by death, implying that Hymen, the god of marriage, is displeased. This contents Andrea, who promises to settle back and allow things to work as ordained. Revenge answers, “Then argue not, for thou hast thy request” (38). Andrea’s death, as well as Horatio’s, will be answered.

*I have to mention a happy accident appearing in the Norton. In 3.13, Hieronimo’s servant announces the arrival of the three petitioners; the original text may have identified the servant’s lines with only an “S.” or perhaps “Ser.” Consequently, the Norton misidentifies the speaker as “Serberine.” Serberine, of course, was involved in Horatio’s murder and subsequently killed by Pedringano at Lorenzo’s behest (3.3). Actors often play more than one part in a production, a process called doubling, and the thought that the actor who plays Serberine might double the part of Hieronimo’s servant is too perfect. The actor playing Serberine, a character involved in Horatio’s murder and killed to ensure his silence, returns to play a servant to Horatio’s father. Shades of remorse, guilt, and punishment in the servant’s role would be unavoidable. Brilliant!

The Spanish Tragedy – Act Three, Scenes 9-12: “What madding fury did possess thy wits?”

Scene Nine: Bel-Imperia, imprisoned in a tower, bemoans her captivity and the loss of Horatio.

Scene 8 closed with Isabella running lunatic, desperate to know who murdered her son. Scene 9 opens with Bel-Imperia at the window of the tower where she is locked away, in part for her knowledge of Horatio’s killers. She is angry, and rails against her imprisonment and “sequest[ration] from the court” (2). Crying out in frustration, she laments, “Hieronimo, why writ I of thy wrongs? / Or why art thou so slack in thy revenge?” (7-8). Her complaint brings to mind Shakespeare’s later play Hamlet and the title character’s delay in avenging his father’s murder.

This scene also includes one of the play’s many metatheatrical moments. From the tower, Bel-Imperia calls out, “Andrea, O Andrea, that thou sawest / Me for thy friend Horatio handled thus” (9-10). As discussed previously, the play’s stage directions seem to call for Andrea and Revenge to be present throughout, so Andrea is indeed a witness to Bel-Imperia’s treatment. Both he and Revenge have seen all: Bel-Imperia’s assignation with Horatio, Horatio’s murder, and Bel-Imperia’s abduction and imprisonment. Their observing the action is one of the many frames structuring the play; these frames allow a nesting of sorts, each one neatly supporting the others.

Scene Ten: Lorenzo releases Bel-Imperia from her captivity. She confronts both him and Balthazar, who once more pleads his love.

Lorenzo sends his page to free Bel-Imperia. He explains to Balthazar that her imprisonment was “…for a policy / To smooth and keep the murder secret” (9-10) and that any interest in Horatio’s death will blow over, likening it to a “nine-days’ wonder” (11) — something that is discussed for a short time and then forgotten. Lorenzo instructs Balthazar to “deal cunningly” (18) with Bel-Imperia and “Salve all suspicions, only soothe me up” (19). In other words, Balthazar should be sly and crafty with Bel-Imperia, gloss over any suspicions she may have, and above all, have Lorenzo’s back. Lorenzo goes on to suggest that if Bel-Imperia is angered by the recent events, “Jest with her gently: under feignèd jest / Are things concealed that else would breed unrest” (22-23). It says much about Lorenzo that he believes gentle humor would lead anyone to forget witnessing a murder and being carried off to a tower.

Bel-Imperia enters, understandably angry and insisting to know why she was subjected to such treatment. “What madding fury did possess thy wits?” (33) she demands of Lorenzo. He attempts to convince her that he “…sought to save [her] honor and [his] own” (38). Their father and the King were expected to call on Hieronimo when she and Horatio were found in the arbor, he explains, and then remarks:

Why then, remembering that old disgrace,
Which you for Don Andrea had endured,
And now were likely longer to sustain
By being found so meanly accompanied,
Thought rather–for I knew no readier mean—
To thrust Horatio [out of] my father’s way. (54-59)

Lorenzo’s blunt statement, grounded in class and status, is a swipe at Bel-Imperia and both of her lovers. In his eyes, she brought disgrace on herself through her previous relationship with Andrea, and he sees her keeping company with Horatio as casting a similar pall. Bel-Imperia will have none of it. She replies, “You, gentle brother, forged this for my sake, / And you my lord, were made his instrument–” (64-65). She knows Lorenzo crafted this tale as a coverup and tells Balthazar to his face that he is being used. Lorenzo, however, continues his spin, protesting that she was imprisoned because her melancholy over Andrea’s death angered their father. Once more, Bel-Imperia is having none of it. “But why had I no notice of his ire?” (73) she asks. Lorenzo’s feeble answer is that telling her would only have increased her woe.

Lorenzo then attempts to direct Bel-Imperia’s attention to Balthazar, “the gentle prince” (78) who feels such passion for her. She remains suspicious, however:

Brother you are become an orator–
I know not I, by what experience–
Too politic for me, past all compare,
Since last I saw you…” (83-86)

Lorenzo is being glib, and she does not trust him; he’s not usually this smooth. Based on lines 54-59, it seems Balthazar’s royal status is the answer to Lorenzo’s taking such an interest in his sister’s love life. He has found he can easily manipulate Balthazar; it is also clear he thinks he can control, or at least gaslight, Bel-Imperia. As a near relation, Lorenzo would have close access to the couple and could conceivably wield influence and gain power.

Balthazar, who has been dipping into the dialogue every so often, protests that he is besotted with Bel-Imperia’s beauty but despondent that his affection is not reciprocated. What follows is a telling exchange between the three characters. The snap of the stichomythia, or short back-and-forth sparring dialogue, creates a sense of unguarded truthfulness that contrasts with Lorenzo’s fictions:

BALTHAZAR: ‘Tis that I love.
BEL-IMPERIA:                     Whom?
BALTHAZAR:                                       Bel-Imperia.
BEL-IMPERIA: But that I fear.
BALTHAZAR:                       Whom?
BEL-IMPERIA:                                     Bel-Imperia.
LORENZO: Fear your self?
BEL-IMPERIA:                     Ay, brother.
LORENZO:                                            How?
BEL-IMPERIA:                                                     As those
                That what they love are loath and fear to lose. (96-99)

The implication is that Bel-Imperia fears losing herself in a loveless relationship. She rejects Balthazar’s proffered love because in her mind it mirrors her earlier imprisonment: as his wife, any agency she may possess would be taken away.

Balthazar’s response shows he does not grasp her deeper message: “Then, fair, let Baltazar your keeper be” (100). Her response, “No, Balthazar doth fear as well as we” (101) is followed by two lines of Latin glossed as “They yoked tremulous dread to quaking dread, a futile act of stupid betrayal” (Neill 67, n.102-103). Although Bel-Imperia has deep concerns (“tremulous dread”), Balthazar has shown himself to be filled with cowardice of varying stripes (“quaking dread”). Their union would be pointless, as it would deny her the strong partner she needs to still her own fears and create an effective relationship.

Is Balthazar unable to understand this or does he simply enjoy playing the Petrarchan lover, imagining himself the victim of a cruel, indifferent lady? As the scene closes he continues his lament, likening his lovelorn state to someone lost in a strange land:

Led by the lodestar of her heavenly looks,
Wends poor oppressèd Balthazar,
As o’er the mountains walks the wanderer,
Incertain to effect his pilgrimage. (106-109)

Scene Eleven: Two travelers meet Hieronimo — who they come to believe is insane.

Reflecting the uncertain pilgrim described in Balthazar’s lament, 3.11 opens with two Portingale travelers asking Hieronimo the way to the duke’s residence. Hieronimo’s replies are riddling and nonsensical, along the lines of Hamlet’s responses to Polonius in 2.2 of Shakespeare’s later play. The lengthy directions Hieronimo provides begin with “…a path upon [their] left-hand side, / That leadth from a guilty conscience / Unto a forest of distrust and fear–” (3.11.13-15). (The left side was traditionally associated with evil, so his implication would have been evident.) This path will lead the travelers through darkness and peril, but eventually,

There in a brazen cauldron fixed by Jove
In this fell wrath upon a sulfur flame,
Yourselves shall find Lorenzo bathing [himself]
In boiling lead and blood of innocents. (26-29)

The travelers are unsettled and unsure as how to take this. They chuckle as Hieronimo leaves and observe, “Doubtless this man is passing lunatic, / Or imperfection of his age doth make him dote” (32-33). They leave to seek the duke’s palace on their own.

Scene Twelve: Hieronimo encounters the King, who is accompanied by the Ambassador of Portugal, the Duke of Castile, and Lorenzo. Hieronimo demands justice for Horatio, but due to his actions is again thought insane.

As if to confirm he is either lunatic or doting, Hieronimo enters “with a poniard in one hand, and a rope in the other” (3.12 s.d.). His use of rhyme underscores his agitation and passion:

Now sir, perhaps I come and see the king,
The king sees me, and fain would hear my suit.
Why, is not this a strange and seld-seen thing
That standers-by with toys should strike me mute. (1-4, italics mine)

Hieronimo’s use of rhyme continues for the next five lines, after which he appears to regain his composure. He realizes suicide will leave his son’s death unavenged and the murderers free: “For if I hang or kill myself, let’s know / Who will revenge Horatio’s murder then? / No, no! fie no! pardon me, I’ll none of that” (17-19). Hieronimo sees the King, Ambassador, Duke of Castile, and Lorenzo approach and decides to press his case. He cries out, “Justice, O justice to Hieronimo” (27), but is swiftly cut off by Lorenzo, who responds “Back! see’st thou not the king is busy?” (28). Hieronimo, reading the room (so to speak), backs off to let the group pass. As they do, the Ambassador tells the King of the Viceroy’s overwhelming joy at his son’s safety and treatment in Spain. To express his happiness, the Viceroy has vowed

…in the presence of the court of Spain,
To knit a sure, inexplicable band
Of kingly love and everlasting league
Betwixt the crowns of Spain and Portingale.
There will he give his crown to Balthazar,
And make a queen of Bel-Imperia. (45-50)

The Ambassador also reveals that the Viceroy has sent Balthazar’s ransom, which the King instructs be paid to Horatio. Does he not know of Horatio’s death? This line and those that follow suggest he does not. Hearing his son’s name, Hieronimo repeats his cries for justice. Although Lorenzo tries once more to silence him, this time he will not back down:

Away, Lorenzo, hinder me no more!
For thou hast made me bankrupt of my bliss.
Give me my son, you shall not ransom him.
Away! I’ll rip the bowels of the earth… (68-71)

At this point, the stage directions indicate Hieronimo “…diggeth with his dagger” (71 s.d.), stage business embodying not only his overwhelming frustration, but also his attempts to dig up or uncover the truth of his son’s death. He then vows to “…ferry over to th’Elysian plains, / And bring my son to show his deadly wounds” (72-73). His words and actions try to direct attention to Horatio’s murder and the fact that unlike Balthazar, he cannot be ransomed and returned to his father’s care.

The King is flummoxed; he appears to be truly ignorant of Hieronimo’s loss. He demands, “What means this outrage? / Will none of you restrain his fury?” (79-80) and after Hieronimo’s exit, asks, “What accident hath happed Hieronimo? / I have not seen him to demean him so” (83-84). Lorenzo responds that Hieronimo is overly proud of Horatio, but greedy to have the Prince’s ransom money for himself. He also suggests that since Hieronimo is “helplessly distract” (96), he should resign from his position of Knight Marshal. The King, however, expresses concern that this would “increase his melancholy” (99) and thinks it better to wait. His attention then turns to the impending marriage of Bel-Imperia and Balthazar.

Thomas Kyd and The Spanish Tragedy: Introduction and Overview

Front Matter: I wrote about ST for a previous blog post, and my intentions are not to rehash that here. I will mention things noted in my earlier entry, but this will be a fresh take on what is an enjoyable and well-written play.

There’s not a lot of information on Thomas Kyd (1558-1594). He was apparently a well-known playwright during the 1580s, the decade when The Spanish Tragedy is thought to have been written. It was a smash hit at the time and was played for many years with much success. ST started the vogue for revenge plays, a genre which is exactly what it sounds like: someone gets killed or murdered, and someone else, usually a family member, works to exact revenge on the killer/murderer. It is believed the genre was based on classical Roman, likely Senacan, tragedies (see below for more on Seneca). There is some consensus that Kyd also wrote what is called the Ur-Hamlet, the Hamlet that may have inspired Shakespeare’s play of the same name. Later, Kyd was an associate of Christopher Marlowe, an association that brought him some trouble. More on Kyd, as well as the Marlowe affair, can be found here and here.

The plot of ST is intricate, and involves 1) Andrea, killed in battle, who was in love with Bel-Imperia; 2) Andrea’s best friend Horatio, who becomes Bel-Imperia’s lover and is killed by her brother Lorenzo and suitor Baltazar; 3) Horatio’s father, Hieronimo, who exacts revenge in an unusual way. There are similarities to Hamlet: feigned madness, a perceived delay in revenge, and a play-within-a-play. ST is very meta, as noted in my previous blog post. It is framed in a way that makes the play itself seem like a play-within-a-play, even before the actual play-within-a-play begins in the last act. There are also references to the process of putting on a performance in an early modern theatre. Not only do these insights add to the play’s meta-ness, they are historically interesting.

Here are the characters:

BAZULTO: An elderly man who, like Hieronimo, has lost his son.
BALTAZAR: The Viceroy of Portugal’s son, and would-be suitor of Bel-Imperia. Believes Lorenzo to be his friend and confidante.
BEL-IMPERIA: The Duke of Castile’s daughter, the King of Spain’s niece, and Lorenzo’s sister. She was Andrea’s lover, and after his death, chooses his friend Horatio to take his place in her affections. She wants nothing to do with her suitor Balthazar, despite her family’s wishes. Bel-Imperia is strong, determined, and wants to make her own choices.
CYPRIAN, DUKE OF CASTILE: The King of Spain’s brother, and father of Bel-Imperia and Lorenzo.
GHOST OF ANDREA: Andrea is killed fighting against the Portuguese. In life, he was a courtier in the Spanish court, Bel-Imperia’s lover, and Horatio’s best friend. In the Underworld, he demands his death be avenged.
HIERONIMO, KNIGHT MARSHAL OF SPAIN: Horatio’s father and Isabella’s husband. His position at Court does him no good when he seeks justice from the king, so he takes matters into his own hands.
HORATIO: Hieronimo and Isabella’s son, Andrea’s best friend, and Bel-Imperia’s new lover. His death starts a domino effect.
ISABELLA: Hieronimo’s wife and Horatio’s mother. Goes insane after Horatio’s death.
KING OF SPAIN: …is the King of Spain. He is also Bel-Imperia and Lorenzo’s uncle.
LORENZO: The Duke of Castile’s son and the King of Spain’s nephew. Lorenzo is Bel-Imperia’s brother and seeks a controlling interest in her love life. Not a nice guy.
PEDRINGANO: Bel-Imperia’s servant. Thinks he’s clever but gets in over his head.
REVENGE: You are correct! Revenge personified.
SERBERINE: Baltazar’s servant. Gets caught up in the intrigue through no fault of his own.
VICEROY OF PORTUGAL: Baltazar’s father.

What else besides the framing and meta-ness is notable? Well, some sections read like a Greek epic. Gods are named and battles are described in a manner reminiscent of works such as Virgil’s Aeneid; the lofty imagery and syntax elevate the plot and keep it from being merely a bloody tale. Kyd’s use of languages other than English is also important. Latin is found throughout the play, contributing to its antique feel. Some of the characters quote Seneca, a Latin dramatist and tragedian who lived from ~4 BCE – 65 AD. Seneca’s tragedies were “closet dramas,” plays not meant to be performed on stage but rather read alone or with others. Although ST was not written as a closet drama, the care Kyd takes with language and words seems to gesture to the genre. Latin is also important to the play-within-the-play in the final scene, which incorporates it alongside Greek, Italian, and French. The effect is that of characters talking at each other instead of with each other, which basically encapsulates the plot: Hieronimo seeks justice, and although he speaks, no one listens. Bel-Imperia wants to choose her lover, and although she speaks, no one listens. Words are spoken, but no effort is made to understand or interpret their message.

In many places, literary structure and rhyme mirror the action on the stage. Two characters’ words might interlock — one using a word or words picked from the other’s previous line or lines — suggesting love or collaboration. At times two characters’ lines might rhyme, or end in a rhyming couplet, implying agreement or affection. At other times, a character’s (or characters’) passion or inner turmoil is reflected by a noted increase in rhyme. The importance of language is not confined to the spoken word, however; the written word is also important. Letters are sent, dropped, written in blood, or non-existent – but necessary to the plot.

Keep an eye out for framing, literal and figurative. The figurative framing starts immediately with Andrea and Revenge, who remain on stage throughout. The literal frames include a gallows and an arbor; these two are also symbolic, serving as existential portals. The final scene returns to the figurative, with Andrea and Revenge watching the Court watch a play…as we watch all of them. So many frames, so many porous boundaries! This is a play that rewards repeated reading or watching with new discoveries every time.

The Before Shakespeare blog talks a bit about The Spanish Tragedy in this entry. As far as videos, ShaLT (The Shakespeare London Theatres Project) posted this clip of Act 2 Scene 4 on YouTube, and there is a 2003 script reading starring Derek Jacobi as Hieronimo (Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five). I found only one full-length stage production online; it was done in 2015 by Carleton College. For those who feel adventurous, there are also some interesting modern summaries/mashups (like this one).

For my blog and research, I relied on the Norton Critical Edition, edited by Michael Neill (W. W. Norton & Company, 2014). Please note: the Norton includes additions to 2.5, 3,2, 3.11, 3.12, and 4.4 that I chose not to address as they were added after the 1592 text (Neill xxxix-xl). For all Shakespeare references, I used the Arden editions (the Third Series when available). The text of ST can also be found (free) on The Folger’s Early Modern English Drama (EMED) website: https://earlymodernenglishdrama.folger.edu/view/1999/ST

Let’s explore this play and see why it was such a hit with early modern audiences…

Galatea – Act Three: “You shall see Ramia hath also bitten on a love-leaf”

Scene One: Cupid has been among Diana’s nymphs, who are all now besotted with either Galatea/Tityrus or Phillida/Melibeus. The nymphs argue over their choice of the “fair boys.”

Mirroring the close of Act Two and Phillida’s bewilderment at her feelings for Galatea, Telusa opens Act Three with a soliloquy lamenting her own feelings of love. In the first lines, she rebukes herself by musing about “thy chaste thoughts turned to wanton looks, thy conquering modesty to a captive imagination” (3.1.3-4). Love, as Telusa describes it, is strong enough to overcome chastity and modesty, replacing them with confusion, unruliness, and distraction. In other words, Telusa’s experience of being in love reveals that Diana’s insistence on chastity’s triumph over love may be mistaken.

Eurota enters as Telusa muses, and the ensuing scene is very like 4.3 in Shakespeare’s Love’s Labour’s Lost (written 1594-95, approximately ten years after Galatea). In both plays, one character enters and laments that they are in love. When another begins to enter, the first character hides, and the second starts their own lament. A third enters, and the second also hides. When the third begins their lament, the two hidden characters come out of hiding to chide the third for being in love. The stage business and monologues advance the plot while entertaining the audience or reader.

The nymphs’ distress at being in love mirrors Phillida’s and Galatea’s own distress at being attracted to each other. Lyly makes the realization of love a state of confusion and imbalance, where control is lost and fate (or something larger than the self), takes charge of the mind and emotions. The text, however, does not indicate that Phillida and Galatea are victims of Cupid’s arrows; his plans for sport mentioned only Diana’s nymphs. The nymphs’ and the girls’ symptoms are the same, though, gesturing toward an intertwining of love, fate, agency, and fortune.

Early modern belief was that love entered through the eyes and imprinted itself on the mind, and in Telusa’s lament, she states her eyes led her to love Phillida/Melibeus. (In 2.1.46 she calls Galatea either “wanton or a fool” – was she attracted to Phillida/Melibeus prior to Cupid’s arrows?) Eurota tells Telusa that love for Galatea/Titryus took her “By the ears” (66). When Ramia enters soon after, Eurota remarks to Telusa, “You shall see Ramia hath also bitten on a love-leaf” (72-73). Sight, sound, and taste are therefore all subject to the influence of love.

Scene Two: Galatea and Phillida begin to subtly question each other, as each is becoming suspicious that the other is also a girl.

Galatea and Phillida are both concerned that the other might be a disguised maiden, and they begin to gently and playfully ask questions to find out if this is true. Their remarks and retorts are witty and often cryptic; in response to Phillida’s complimenting Galatea on her looks and behavior, Galatea says “There is a tree in Tylos, whose nuts have shells like fire, and being cracked, the kernel is but water” (3.2.4-5). Her response suggests that the exterior does not always define the interior, but Phillida is not amused: “What a toy is it to tell me of that tree, being nothing to the purpose?” (6-7). In 3.1, Telusa made a similar allusion, stating, “Virgins’ hearts I perceive are not unlike cotton trees, whose fruit is so hard in the bud that it soundeth like steel, and being ripe, poureth forth nothing but wool” [20-22]. Both lines make the case for not judging a book by its cover, but also suggest that even the hardest heart can be cracked to reveal the softness, or liquidity, of love.

The girls’ sharp wit, male attire, and the resulting confusion of gender brings to mind Rosalind from Shakespeare’s As You Like It (1599), written about fifteen years after Galatea was entered into the Stationers’ Register. Viola in Twelfth Night (1601-1602) is a similar figure. Much like Rosalind and her admirer Phoebe, Viola is clad in boy’s clothing and loved by Olivia, who thinks Viola truly is a boy. Some of Phillida’s lines in 3.2 are echoed in Viola’s words to Oliva: Phillida tells Galatea, “For I have sworn never to love a woman” (3.2.11); compare Viola’s response to Olivia, “I have one heart, one bosom and one truth, / And that no woman has nor never none / Shall mistress be of it save I alone” (Twelfth 3.1.156-158). When Galatea asks several lines later if Phillida has a sister, Phillida replies “My father had but one daughter, and therefore I could have no sister” (3.2.42-43); compare Viola’s “I am all the daughters of my father’s house” (Twelfth 2.4.120).

As Galatea and Phillida realize they may both be girls, their words and phrases become more alike. Phillida’s aside, “What doubtful speeches be these! I fear me he is as I am, a maiden” (3.2.31-21) is followed by Galatea’s aside “What dread riseth in my mind! I fear the boy to be as I am, a maiden” (33-34). Their lines mirror and interlock through word choice and rhyme as the two grow in certainty that they are both maidens:
Galatea [aside]: “Tush, it cannot be. His voice shows the contrary.”
Phillida [aside]: “Yet I do not think it, for he would then have blushed” (35-38, italics mine)
Their conversation and asides share and trade words and phrases, rhyme, and syntax. Not only does this suggest their strong attraction to each other, it shows they are growing closer. Phillida, still the bolder of the two, ends the scene with “Come, let us into the grove, and make much of one another, that cannot tell what to think of one another” (62-63).

Scene Three: Rafe runs away from his new master the Alchemist and takes up with the Astronomer.

Rafe has figured out that the Alchemist is not all he claims to be. Act Three Scene Three, like 2.3, is full of the process of alchemy; the convoluted, complicated language helps the Alchemist to deceive, but as far as cunning and cozenage, he might have met his match in Rafe.

After leaving the Alchemist, Rafe takes up with the Astronomer. Both the Alchemist and the Astronomer are engaged in crafts that purport to advance fortune or control fate: alchemy through gain, astronomy by prediction. Where the Alchemist can make “nothing infinite” (2.3.103), the Astronomer claims “Nothing can happen which I forsee not; nothing shall” (3.3.49-50). Like the Alchemist’s words, these have a double meaning, proclaiming the Astronomer sees all, yet “nothing” shall happen. The Astronomer, like the Alchemist, speaks in a way meant to impress and bamboozle. His words turn Rafe’s head, and he becomes the Astronomer’s apprentice.

Scene Four: Diana is furious that her nymphs are all in love. She discovers Cupid in their midst and vows retribution.

Diana’s anger at her besotted nymphs puts the theme of love versus chastity front and center. She tells her nymphs to seek a stranger nymph she has seen in the forest, suspecting it is Medea, Calypso, or Cupid. In a lengthy monologue, Diana rails about love, her virgins’ lack of power to overcome their feelings of love, and demands to know if they are now “Venus’ wantons” (3.4.2). Her lines are filed with references to myth and the gods, and she condemns love while exhorting the virtues of chastity. Diana’s rant also includes several mentions of birds and feathers: “Eagles cast their evil feathers in the sun” (38), “The birds ibes” (39), “doves” (48), “owls” (49), and “The eagle’s feathers consume the feathers of all others” (51). She closes with the admonition, “Foolish girls, how willing you are to follow that which you should fly” (68-69). Birds do not have a place of note anywhere else in the play, so her references to them all build to this closing remark.

When Cupid is found and brought to Diana, she harangues him for his sport in the forest. She promises to punish him: “I will break thy bow and burn thine arrows, bind thy hands, clip thy wings, and fetter thy feet” (85-86). She also tells him “Venus’s rods are made of roses, Diana’s of briars” (89-90). This is a telling comparison of love and chastity, since both roses and briars have thorns: love and chastity, then, can both cause pain. Cupid responds by telling Diana “what I have done cannot be undone, but what you mean to do shall….Cupid shall have all” (98-100). In other words, he promises love will win the day.

At the close of the scene, Eurota tells Cupid “We will plague ye for a little god” (109), echoing the words of the unnamed nymph in 1.2 (“And so farewell, little god” [32]). Was this unnamed nymph Eurota? Either way, the phrase “little god” not only mocks Cupid’s powers (especially against Diana), it also plays on his usual representation as a toddler or small boy.

Kyd’s “The Spanish Tragedy”: Existential Boundaries Meet Metatheatre

This blog entry has been a long time coming, what with Thanksgiving, being knocked flat by a nasty cold, and the like. Anyway, several weeks back, I did a full-on tweet-gush over the pleasures of re-reading. This was brought on by a third? fourth? more? read of Kyd’s Spanish Tragedy. I went into this particular read with an open mind and came out of it with a new respect for Kyd. I’m not trying to make a cohesive argument here, just noting some impressions and what caught my fancy. This is a dense play with a lot going on (as you know), so I’m going to assume anyone reading my ramble has a basic knowledge of the plot and characters.

I noticed frames and boundaries. Each one nests inside another, yet all are completely separate. Although important to the organization of the plot, these boundaries aren’t left to stand: they’re poked, prodded, and shown to be porous. Kyd begins this nesting and framing by starting the play with Revenge and Andrea on stage; they remain on stage throughout (II.6.sd), watching and at times commenting on the action. In IV.4, Kyd sets it up so we are watching Revenge and Andrea watch the King, Duke, and their retainers watch a play put on by Hieronimo, Bel-Imperia, et al. How meta is that? This is just one example of how ST displays its frames and boundaries. It’s also proud of being a play and wants you to know it. It’s like a Mondrian, formed and formatted by boxes that become the work of art, thereby creating a meta experience for the viewer. So why all the boundaries? Based on my reading experience, early modern playwrights loved boundaries. They knew their importance for separating and defining, but they also recognized their necessity for pushing back, making a point, or creating parody. Gender is one they couldn’t leave alone (I’m sure the gentle reader knows several instances of cross-dressing in early modern drama). Another line they loved to toe is class: think of Malvolio, envisioning himself married to his mistress (and our laughs at his presumption). There’s also the supernatural and spiritual: Glendower, fairies, Endymion, Doctor Faustus. ST rests on more prosaic boundaries, however; we find no cross-dressing or over-reaching of class, and the supernatural considerations are not of religion or power. Kyd’s boundaries are of blood, life, and relationships; he shows us how they structure a particular situation, their porosity, and how they can be collapsed while still holding true. He does this in a way that not only displays his plot’s structure, he revels in the experience of being meta.

One important boundary is Hieronimo’s arbor, which is fraught with meaning. Bel-Imperia and Horatio first meet here to consummate their love after Andrea’s death (II.4). If their consummation is physical, it adds yet another boundary, but even if it’s not, the line between their being friends and lovers is crossed within the confines of this arbor. The arbor stands as a portal between life and death, as it’s where Horatio is murdered and his body hung for his father Hieronimo to find (II.5). It’s a place where Isabella crosses the line between sanity and madness (III.8.5 sd), and where she stabs herself (IV.2.37-38 sd), making it once more a portal between life and death. It is mirrored in the gallows when Pedringano is hung in III.6; his body reminds us of Horatio’s body and the arbor’s association with life and death.

Balthazar’s character is constantly shifting and unsure, moving from one side of a boundary to another, never standing firm. In I.2, he’s literally caught between Horatio and Lorenzo: Lorenzo claims he took Balthazar’s horse by the reins and seized his weapon, while Horatio says he’s the one who knocked him from his horse and unarmed him (I.2.155-158). Balthazar is no help in the dispute. He equivocates by describing Horatio as more courteous and valorous, Lorenzo as brutal, but never allows which was his actual captor (I.2.161-165). By way of this dispute, his character parallels that of Bel-Imperia, who is also a point of contention between the two men. Balthazar recognizes this similarity (II.1.112-131), but he is weak compared to her. Unable to make a stand as far as his feelings, and much to her disgust, he is clearly intimidated by her strength and independence (II.1.9-28).

Through the character of Balthazar, the “fence-sitter” or the person who cannot choose one side of an argument or another is seen as weak and ineffective. This is not a matter of a back-and-forth that permeates boundaries, but one of fearing them. Since Balthazar is unable to maintain a stance one way or this other, he is in danger of being led astray, outwitted, or overcome. This is exactly what happens when the boundaries between the characters of Balthazar and Lorenzo collapse following the murder of Horatio. As Lorenzo puts it, he lays the plan and Balthazar (unwittingly) does the work, so he sees Balthazar as just as implicated in the killing as he is (III.4.38-49). In Lorenzo’s mind, through their conspiracy they become one, merged in his paranoid plan to eliminate all who may know too much. In the final act, Kyd deftly makes note of Baltazar’s lack of a strong, discrete self; preparing to stage Hieronimo’s play-within-the-play, Balthazar is asked “What, is your beard on?” (IV.3.18). In response, he notes his costume beard is “half on; the other [half] is in my hand” (19). Quite frankly, a better definition of waffler, or a character who is half a man or still half boy, I’ve yet to see.

Bel-Imperia is placed behind physical boundaries when her brother Lorenzo locks her in a tower (III.9; III.10.31); but throughout the play, she is framed by various existential boxes and boundaries. In I.4, her dead lover, Andrea, watches as she proclaims her love for his friend, Horatio, who wears Andrea’s blood-soaked scarf as a token (a note to II.6 says “the chorus figures [Revenge and Andrea] have been on stage from the start and remain so…). The scarf, taken by Horatio from Andrea’s arm as his friend lay dead, had been given to Andrea by Bel-Imperia. The scarf therefore binds the three in friendship, love, duty, and finally, the process of revenge. Andrea watches from his place near Revenge as Bel-Imperia lays her gage for Horatio, setting up a love triangle consisting of herself, Horatio, and Balthazar. Balthazar, who was Andrea’s killer (I.4.69), was captured on the field by Horatio but is now captivated by his love for Bel-Imperia, and this interlocking group of lovers is the core of the play. Without the death of Andrea, the spurning of Balthazar by Bel-Imperia, and her choice of Horatio as lover, there would be no motive for the death of Horatio–and no play. Horatio’s murder and Hieronimo’s call for revenge against Lorenzo and Balthazar then dovetails with Andrea’s earlier demand for revenge against Balthazar for killing him in battle. So many to be avenged, so little time!

The play’s love triangle also blends love and war, bringing us back to Bel-Imperia, who repeatedly associates the two. Not only does this keep the strife between Spain and Portingale/Portugual in the forefront, it underscores the battlefield killing of Andrea and his call for revenge. Bel-Imperia’s words of love to Horatio are couched in allusions to battle and he responds in kind: “Thy war shall be with me” (II.2.32), “Appoint the field / Where trial of this war shall first be made” (II.2.39-40); “Nay, then, to gain the glory of the field, / My twining arms shall yoke and make thee yield” (II.2.42-43). Not only are Bel-Imperia’s words to Horatio peppered with references to battle, in one passage, she makes love as war active. After Balthazar proclaims his servitude to her, swears his heart is in thrall (I.4.81, 83), and declares he has “laid [his] heart to gage” (I.4.85), Bel-Imperia turns to leave and purposefully drops her glove, which is picked up by Horatio (I.4.99 sd). Horatio offers it to her, but she tells him to keep it for his pains (I.4.101). In this short passage, the concept of love as war is physically enacted: spying Horatio as he enters, Bel-Imperia throws down her “gage.” This action is a tangible play on the words spoken by Balthazar in line 85, as well as a sign that her choice of lover is Horatio (I.4.67)–who picks up both the glove and her challenge. By picking up Bel-Imperia’s “gage,” Horatio has unwittingly entered into the challenge laid down by Balthazar through his claim to have laid his heart to gage for Bel-Imperia’s love. Not only is Balthazar spurned by his intended, he watches her new love Horatio literally and figuratively pick up her gage, setting the battle in motion.

Bel-Imperia shows her agency by deciding she will love Horatio and refusing to consider Balthazar, who is a politically strategic match. Her framing of love as war, as well as her challenging her suitors with words thick with allusions to battle reveal more than her strength and independence. Is Bel-Imperia at war with love? Could it be she doesn’t want to marry, which would lead to a loss of independence? Or does she simply want to marry the man of her choosing? Is she actively rejecting the idea of a state marriage and becoming a political pawn or prize? Is her Venus/Mars dialog with Horatio a playful way of expressing her sexuality and revealing that she is open to being wooed by him? In III.10.96-99, Bel-Imperia tells Balthazar and Lorenzo that she “fears [her]self…As those / That what they love are loath and fear to lose.” The Norton Anthology of English Renaissance Drama (eds. Bevington et al, 2002) glosses this as a possible expression of the fear of losing her independence (p47, n9). Is it only in an arranged marriage she fears losing herself, especially this one, meant to broker peace between Spain and Portugal (and uniting her with the killer of her dead lover)? A look at Bel-Imperia’s actions and words throughout the play paint a picture of a woman who appears open to love and comfortable in her independence, seemingly willing to marry the man of her choice. An arranged marriage would stifle her, as she is loath to give up her freedom and become a token to broker peace. Her later suicide fits this scenario; if she cannot live and love on her own terms, her life would be intolerable.

Speaking of suicide…there is so much blood in this play: suicides, stabbings, bloody scarves worn as tokens, letters written in blood, tongues bitten off (is that even possible?). Many of these actions take us back to the breaking or maintaining of boundaries. For instance, the sibling relationship between Lorenzo and Bel-Imperia is destroyed when he kills her lover, their blood ties slashed and destroyed, bleeding like Horatio in the arbor. Grief is linked with blood, as is revenge: Andrea’s bloody scarf, Isabella’s blood when she stabs herself, the death and blood in Hieronimo’s play. Bel-Imperia’s prison boundaries are broken by blood when she uses her blood to write a letter to Hieronimo, which finds an echo of sorts in his biting out his own tongue; in these two actions Kyd examines the effectiveness of the spoken word. Bel-Imperia finds the spoken word useless in her captivity, while Hieronimo is able to escape his own captivity (literal and existential) by voluntarily ending his ability to speak.

In every sense, revenge frames this play. It bounds it, opens it (“enter the ghost of Andrea, and with him Revenge” I.1.1 sd) and literally has the last word (“For here, though death hath end their misery / I’ll there begin their endless tragedy” IV.5.47-48). Revenge, as well as the pain and chaos accompanying it in the mind of the grieving, is made tangible as well as implied. Revenge as a character watches the play and keeps us company as part of the audience. It comments on the action (I.1; III.15; IV.5) just as it drives the action, and its presence adds to the meta aspect of the plot: we know the play is about the act of revenge, yet we can see a physical Revenge observing the action and supporting those who call on him. Revenge sustains those who clamor for him, and is joined by the dead, who continue to exist in his company. The living characters are unable to see Revenge and Andrea sitting on the stage (joined by the dead Horatio?), so when Isabella says “To heaven, there sits my Horatio / Backed with a troop of fiery cherubins” (III.8.17-18), and Bel-Imperia laments Horatio’s unavenged death with “Andrea, O Andrea, that thou sawest” (III.9.9), the nesting, framing, and meta aspects of the play are compounded. In another instance of this, grief, felt by Hieronimo, Isabella, and Bel-Imperia, is given flesh in the character of Bazulto, the old man seeking justice for his murdered son. Hieronmio recognizes him as the “lively image of my grief” (III.14.162), making grief tangible on the stage, just as the embodied Revenge sits watching with Andrea. Perhaps a directorial choice would be to have Bazulto/Grief join them.

The chaos of the mind brought on by grief is enacted in Act IV with the staging of Hieronimo’s play and its jumble of languages and nationalities. During these scenes, ST again shows just how metatheatrical it can be, referencing Hieronimo “knocking up the curtain” (IV.3.1 sd); giving the King a copy of the play and referring to the “argument” or plot (IV.3.6-7); “hanging up the title” (IV.3.17); and appointing the “bookkeeper” (IV.4.9). As the play draws to a close, Kyd nests, boxes and carefully positions, framing that acts as a foil to the apocalyptic chaos of Hieronimo’s play-within-the play. The play-within-the-play dialog is a Babel of languages, its actors speaking at each other rather than to each other, and ending in carnage and bleeding bodies. All the while Revenge and Andrea sit watching; are they watching the king and his retinue or the bloody play-within-the-play? Are they watching us?

In Kyd’s play, revenge is something directed and set in motion by forces on the outside of life. Revenge exists on the boundaries of existence, yet remains a part of it; set apart, yet woven into the fabric of a life. It is shown as a force that can define and include as well as confuse and separate. Kyd, framing his story like a Mondrian and nesting it like a set of Russian dolls, has a lot to say about boundaries, and he does so subtly and succinctly. The blood is there to hold our attention.