what makes you rise so soone?

LOR. Feare of preuenting our mishaps too late.

BAL. What mischiefe is it that we not mistrust?

LOR. Our greatest ils we least mistrust, my lord,
And [unexpected] harmes do hurt vs most.

BAL. Why, tell me, Don Lorenz,--tell me, man,
If ought concernes our honor and your owne!

LOR. Nor you nor me, my lord, but both in one;
But I suspect--and the presumptions great--
That by those base confederates in our fault
Touching the death of Don Horatio
We are all betraide to olde Hieronimo.

BAL. Betraide, Lorenzo? tush! it cannot be.

LOR. A guiltie conscience vrged with the thought
Of former euils, easily cannot erre:
I am perswaded--and diswade me not--
That als reuealed to Hieronimo.
And therefore know that I haue cast it thus--

[Enter PAGE.]

But heeres the page. How now? what newes with thee?

PAGE. My lord, Serberine is slaine.

BAL. Who? Serberine, my man?

PAGE. Your Highnes man, my lord.

LOR. Speak, page: who murdered him?

PAGE. He that is apprehended for the fact.

LOR. Who?

PAGE. Pedringano.

BAL. Is Serberine slaine, that lou'd his lord so well?
Iniurious villaine! murderer of his freend!

LOR. Hath Pedringano murdered Serberine?
My lord, let me entreat you to take the paines
To exasperate and hasten his reuenge
With your complaints vnto my l[ord] the king.
This their dissention breeds a greater doubt.

BAL. Assure thee, Don Lorenzo, he shall dye,
Or els his Highnes hardly shall deny.
Meane-while, Ile haste the marshall sessions,
For die he shall for this damned deed.

Exit BALT[HAZAR].

LOR. [aside] Why, so! this fits our former pollicie;
And thus experience bids the wise and deale.
I lay the plot, he prosecutes the point;
I set the trap, he breakes the worthles twigs,
And sees not that wherewith the bird was limde.
Thus hopefull men, that means to holde their owne,
Must look, like fowlers, to their dearest freends.
He runnes to kill whome I haue hope to catch,
And no man knowes it was my reaching [fetch].
Tis hard to trust vnto a multitude,--
Or any one, in mine opinion,
When men themselues their secrets will reueale.

Enter a MESSENGER with a letter.

LOR. Boy.

PAGE. My lord.

LOR.