_Enter_ LORENZO. LOR. Who names Alcario slain? it is Alcario! O cursed deed! Couldst thou not see, but make the wrong man bleed? LAZ. ’Sfoot, ’twas your fault, my lord; you brought no word. LOR. Peace; no words: I’ll get thy pardon: Why, mum, then. _Enter_ BELL’-IMPERIA. BEL. Who names Andrea slain? O, ’tis Andrea! O, I swoon, I die: LOR. Look to my sister Bell’-Imperia! AND. Raise up, my dear love, Bell’-Imperia! O, be of comfort, sweet: call in thy spirits; Andrea lives: O, let not death beguile thee! BEL. Are you Andrea? AND. Do not forget; That was Alcario, my shape’s counterfeit. LOR. Why speaks not this accurs’d, damn’d villain? LAZ. O good words, my lords; for those are courtiers’ vails: The king must hear; why should I make two tales? For to be found in two, before the king I will resolve you all this strange strange thing: I hit, yet miss’d; ’twas I mistook my part. HOR. Aye, villain; for thou aim’st at this true heart. JER. Horatio, ’twas well, as fortune stands, This letter came not to Andrea’s hands. HOR. ’Twas happiness indeed. BEL. Was it not you, Andrea, questioned me ’Bout love? AND. No, Bell’-Imperia. Belike, ’twas false Andrea; for the first Object mine eyes met was that most accurst, Which, I much fear me, by all signs portends Most doubtful wars and dangerous pointed ends To light upon my blood. BEL. Angels of heaven, forefend it! AND. Some take up the body; others take charge Of that accursed villain. LOR. My lord, leave that to me; I’ll look to him. JER. Mark, mark, Horatio: a villain guard a villain. AND. The king may think my news is a bad guest, When the first object is a bleeding breast. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ KING OF SPAIN, CASTILE, MEDINA, ROGERO, _and Others; a Dead March within._ KING. My lords, What heavy sounds are these?--nearer and nearer! ha! Andrea the forerunner of these news? Nay, then I fear Spain’s inevitable ill. Ha! Andrea, speak! what news from Portugal? What, is [the] tribute paid? Or peace or wars? AND. Wars, my dread liege. KING. Why then That bleeding object doth presage what shall Hereafter follow. What’s he that lies there slain, Or hurt, or both? Speak. AND. My liege, Alcario, duke Medina’s son; And by that slave this purple act was done. MED. Who names Alcario slain? ah me, ’tis he: Art thou that villain? LAZ. How didst thou know my name? I see an excellent villain hath his fame, As well as a great courtier. MED. Speak, villain: wherefore didst thou this accursed deed? LAZ. Because I was an ass, a villainous ass; For had I hit it right, Andrea had lain there; He walk’d upright: this ominous mistake, This damned error, Breedeth in my soul an everlasting terror.