SER. [aside] Here, Serberine, attend and stay thy pace; For here did Don Lorenzo's page appoint That thou by his command shouldst meet with him. How fit a place, if one were so dispos'd, Methinks this corner is to close with one. PED. [aside] Here comes the bird that I must seize upon; Now, Pedringano, or never play the man! SER. [aside] I wonder that his lordship stays so long, Or wherefore should he send for me so late. PED. For this, Serberine; and thou shalt ha't! Shoots. So, there he lies; my promise is perform'd. The WATCH. I WATCH. Hark, gentlemen, this is a pistol shot! II WATCH. And here's one slain; stay the murderer! PED. Now, by the sorrows of the souls in hell, He strives with the WATCH. Who first lays hands on me, I'll be his priest! III WATCH. Sirrah, confess, and therein play the priest. Why hast thou thus unkindly kill'd the man? PED. Why, because he walk'd abroad so late. III WATCH. Come sir, you had been better kept your bed Then have committed this misdeed so late. II WATCH. Come to the marshall's with the murderer! I WATCH. On to Hieronimo's! help me here To bring the murder'd body with us too. PED. Hieronimo? Carry me before whom you will; What e'er he be, I'll answer him and you. And do your worst, for I defy you all! Exeunt. [ACT III. SCENE 4.] [The DUKE's castle] Enter LORENZO and BALTHAZAR. BAL. How now, my lord? what makes you rise so soon? LOR. Fear of preventing our mishaps too late. BAL. What mischief is it that we not mistrust? LOR. Our greatest ills we least mistrust, my lord, And unexpected harms do hurt us most. BAL. Why, tell me, Don Lorenz,--tell me, man, If aught concerns our honour and your own! LOR. Nor you nor me, my lord, but both in one; But I suspect--and the presumptions great-- That by those base confed'rates in our fault Touching the death of Don Horatio We are all betray'd to old Hieronimo. BAL. Betray'd, Lorenzo? tush! it cannot be. LOR. A guilty conscience urged with the thought Of former evils, easily cannot err: I am persuaded--and dissuade me not-- That all's revealed to Hieronimo. And therefore know that I have cast it thus-- [Enter PAGE.] But here's the page. How now? what news with thee? PAGE. My lord, Serberine is slain. BAL. Who? Serberine, my man? PAGE. Your Highness' man, my lord. LOR. Speak, page: who murder'd him? PAGE. He that is apprehended for the fact. LOR. Who? PAGE. Pedringano. BAL. Is Serberine slain, that lov'd his lord so well? Injurious villain! murd'rer of his friend!