PED. He asketh for my lady Bel-imperia.
LOR. What to do, Hieronimo? Use me.
HIERO. Oh, no, my lord, I dare not, it must not be;
I humbly thank your lordship.
LOR. Why then, farewell!
HIERO. My grief no heart, my thoughts no tongue can tell.
Exit.
LOR. Come hither, Pedringano; see'st thou this?
PED. My lord, I see it, and suspect it too.
LOR. This is that damned villain Serberine,
That hath, I fear, reveal'd Horatio's death.
PED. My lord, he could not; 'twas so lately done,
And since he hath not left my company.