Hieronimo.
True, all Spain takes note of it.
Besides, he is so generally belov'd,
His majesty the other day did grace him
With waiting on his cup: these be favours,
Which do assure me that he cannot be short-liv'd.
Isabella.
Sweet Hieronimo!
Hieronimo.
I wonder, how this fellow got his clothes:
Sirrah, sirrah, I'll know the truth of all:
Jaques, run to the Duke of Castile's presently,
And bid my son Horatio to come home,
I and his mother have had strange dreams to-night:
Do you hear me, sir?
Jaques.
Ay, sir.
Hieronimo.