This is that damned villain Serberine,
That hath, I fear, reveal'd Horatio's death.
Pedringano.
My lord, he could not, 'twas so lately done;
And since he hath not left my company.
Lorenzo.
Admit he have not, his condition's such,
As fear or flattering words may make him false.
I know his humour; and therewith repent,
That e'er I us'd him in this enterprise.
But, Pedringano, to prevent the worst,
And 'cause I know thee secret as my soul,
Here, for thy further satisfaction, take thou[154] this,
[Gives him more gold.
And hearken to me—thus it is devis'd,[155]
This night thou must (and, pr'ythee, so resolve)
Meet Serberine at St Liugis' Park:
Thou know'st, 'tis here hard by behind the house;
There take thy stand, and see thou strike him sure:
For die he must, if we do mean to live.
Pedringano.
But how shall Serberine be there, my lord?
Lorenzo.