Julia. That follows not!
Helen. What follows not?
Julia. That I
Should break my heart, because we go to town.
Helen. Indeed?—Oh, that’s another matter. Well,
I’d e’en advise thee then to do his will;
And, ever after, when I prophesy,
Believe me, Julia!
[They retire. Master Walter comes forward.]
[Enter Fathom.]
Fath. So please you, sir, a letter,—a post-haste letter! The bearer on horseback, the horse in a foam—smoking like a boiler at the heat—be sure a posthaste letter!
Wal. Look to the horse and rider.
[Opens the letter and reads.]
What’s this? A testament addressed to me,
Found in his lordship’s escritoire, and thence
Directed to be taken by no hand
But mine. My presence instantly required.