King.
Brother, how like you this our viceroy's love?
Castile.
No doubt, my lord, it is an argument
Of honourable care to keep his friend,
And wondrous zeal to Balthazar his son;
Nor am I least indebted to his grace,
That bends his liking to my daughter thus.
Ambassador.
Now last, dread lord, here hath his highness sent
(Although he send not that his son return)
His ransom due to Don Horatio.
Hieronimo.
Horatio! who calls Horatio?
King.