What's here? a letter? Tush, it is not so! A letter for Hieronimo. [Reads] "For want of ink receive this bloody writ. Me hath my hapless brother hid from thee. Revenge thyself on Balthazar and him, For these were they that murdered thy son. Hieronimo, revenge Horatio's death, And better fare then Bel-imperia doth!"-- What means this unexpected miracle? My son slain by Lorenzo and the prince? What cause had they Horatio to malign? Or what might move thee, Bel-imperia, To accuse thy brother, had he been the mean? Hieronimo, beware! thou art betray'd, And to entrap thy life this train is laid. Advise thee therefore, be not credulous: This is devised to endanger thee, That thou, by this, Lorenzo should'st accuse. And he, for thy dishonour done, should draw Thy life in question and thy name in hate. Dear was the life of my beloved son, And of his death behooves me be aveng'd: Then hazard not thine own, Hieronimo, But live t'effect thy resolution! I therefore will by circumstances try What I can gather to confirm this writ, And, harken near the Duke of Castile's house, Close if I can with Bel-imperia, To listen more, but nothing to bewray. Enter PEDRINGANO. Now, Pedringano! PED. Now, Hieronimo! HIERO. Where's thy lady? PED. I know not; here's my lord. Enter LORENZO. LOR. How now, who's this? Hieronimo? HIERO. My lord. PED. He asketh for my lady Bel-imperia. LOR. What to do, Hieronimo? Use me. HIERO. Oh, no, my lord, I dare not, it must not be; I humbly thank your lordship. LOR. Why then, farewell! HIERO. My grief no heart, my thoughts no tongue can tell. Exit. LOR. Come hither, Pedringano; see'st thou this? PED. My lord, I see it, and suspect it too. LOR. This is that damned villain Serberine, That hath, I fear, reveal'd Horatio's death. PED. My lord, he could not; 'twas so lately done, And since he hath not left my company. LOR. Admit he have not; his conditions such As fear or flattering words may make him false. I know his humour, and therewith repent That e'er I us'd him in this enterprise. But, Pedringano, to prevent the worst, And 'cause I know thee secret as my soul, Here, for thy further satisfaction, take thou this! Gives him more gold. And hearken to me; thus it is devis'd: This night thou must--and prithee so resolve-- Meet Serberine at St. Luigi's Park,-- Thou knowest 'tis here hard by behind the house; There take thy stand, and see thou strike him sure, For die he must, if we do mean to live. PED. But how shall Serberine be there, my lord? LOR. Let me alone, I'll send him to meet The prince and me where thou must do this deed.