Ghost monologue — The Spanish Tragedy

Aye; now my hopes have end in their effects, When blood and sorrow finish my desires: Horatio murder'd in his father's bower, Vile Serberine by Pedrigano slain, False Pedrigano hang'd by quaint device, Fair Isabella by herself misdone, Prince Balthazar by Bel-imperia stabb'd, The Duke of Castile and his wicked son Both done to death by old Hieronimo, My Bel-imperia fallen as Dido fell, And good Hieronimo slain by himself! Aye, these were spectacles to please my soul. Now will I beg at lovely Proserpine That, by the virtue of her princely doom, I may consort my friends in pleasing sort, And on my foes work just and sharp revenge. I'll lead my friend Horatio through those fields Where never-dying wars are still inur'd; I'll lead fair Isabella to that train Where pity weeps but never feeleth pain; I'll lead my Bel-imperia to those joys That vestal virgins and fair queens possess; I'll lead Hieronimo where Orpheus plays, Adding sweet pleasure to eternal days. But say, Revenge,--for thou must help or none,-- Against the rest how shall my hate be shown?