Hiero monologue — The Spanish Tragedy

See, see, oh, see thy shame, Hieronimo! See here a loving father to his son: Behold the sorrows and the sad laments That he deliv'reth for his son's decease. If love's effect so strives in lesser things, If love enforce such moods in meaner wits, If love express such power in poor estates, Hieronimo, as when a raging sea, Toss'd with the wind and tide, o'er-turneth then The upper-billows course of waves to keep, Whilst lesser waters labour in the deep, Then sham'st thou not, Hieronimo, to neglect The swift revenge of thy Horatio? Though on this earth justice will not be found, I'll down to hell and in this passion Knock at the dismal gates of Pluto's court, Getting by force, as once Alcides did, A troupe of furies and tormenting hags, To torture Don Lorenzo and the rest. Yet, lest the triple-headed porter should Deny my passage to the slimy strand, The Thracian poet thou shalt counterfeit; Come on, old father, be my Orpheus; And, if thou canst no notes upon the harp, Then sound the burden of thy sore heart's grief Till we do gain that Proserpine may grant Revenge on them that murdered my son. Then will I rent and tear them thus and thus, Shiv'ring their limbs in pieces with my teeth!