LOR. What! Don Horatio, our knight-marshall's son?
PED. Even him, my lord.
LOR. Now say but how know'st thou he is her love,
And thou shalt find me kind and liberal.
Stand up, I say, and fearless tell the truth.
PED. She sent him letters,—which myself perus'd,—
Full-fraught with lines and arguments of love,
Preferring him before Prince Balthazar.
LOR. Swear on this cross that what thou say'st is true,
And that thou wilt conceal what thou hast told.
PED. I swear to both, by him that made us all.
LOR. In hope thine oath is true, here's thy reward.
But, if I prove thee perjur'd and unjust,
This very sword whereon thou took'st thine oath
Shall be the worker of thy tragedy.
PED. What I have said is true, and shall, for me,
Be still conceal'd from Bel-imperia.
Besides, your Honour's liberality
Deserves my duteous service ev'n till death.
LOR. Let this be all that thou shall do for me:
Be watchful when and where these lovers meet,
And give me notice in some secret sort.
PED. I will, my lord.