_Enter _Pedro_ and a Servant, with a Letter to _Antonio_._

_Serv._ My Lord, _Don John_ salutes you in that Letter.

_Cæl._ How does my Couzen, Friend?

_Serv._ Madam, I fear he's drawing near his end.

_Cæl._ 'Pray Heav'n divert it.

_Anto._ The Letter shews, that Death did guide his hand;
It only says, Oh Friend, come now or never.

_Ger._ How did his Sickness take him?

_Serv._ Chacing the Buck too hard; he hot with Labour,
Drunk of a cooling Spring too eagerly,
And that has given him pains, the Doctors say,
Will give him Death immediately.

_Cæl._ Heav'n grant him help.

_Anto._ Return, and tell thy Lord, I'm at thy heels.
_Pedro_, bring my Boots, and bid two Horses be made
Ready.

_Cæl._ Whom do you take, my Lord?

_Anto._ _Pedro_:--but hold, _Jasper_ is not discharg'd,