Enter Fabian.
Bring here my tablets, boy:—how goes the news?
fabian.
Your grace, perchance, hath heard two gentle strangers
The abode inquiring of Hermione.
Beneath Ridolfi's terrace, yesternight,
Unto her ear they gave, with pipe and lute,
Sweet signal of their presence.
duke.
Where?—the terrace!—
I'll have them seiz'd. Ho!—guards!
Enter Guard.
fabian.
Oh, stay!—why thus, my lord!—
The men purpose no mischief, hither bent
On some love errand; they in this can plot
None other hurt.
duke.
Love! sayest thou?—Whom seek they?—
fabian.
Hermione, my lord, and she——
duke.
Admits their coming?—Seize them, guards!—
Why this delay?
guard.
My lord, we know not where
Your message hath its reference.