PAGE. Pedringano.

BAL. Is Serberine slaine, that lou'd his lord so well?
Iniurious villaine! murderer of his freend!

LOR. Hath Pedringano murdered Serberine?
My lord, let me entreat you to take the paines
To exasperate and hasten his reuenge
With your complaints vnto my l[ord] the king.
This their dissention breeds a greater doubt.

BAL. Assure thee, Don Lorenzo, he shall dye,
Or els his Highnes hardly shall deny.
Meane-while, Ile haste the marshall sessions,
For die he shall for this damned deed.

Exit BALT[HAZAR].

LOR. [aside] Why, so! this fits our former pollicie;
And thus experience bids the wise and deale.
I lay the plot, he prosecutes the point;
I set the trap, he breakes the worthles twigs,
And sees not that wherewith the bird was limde.
Thus hopefull men, that means to holde their owne,
Must look, like fowlers, to their dearest freends.
He runnes to kill whome I haue hope to catch,
And no man knowes it was my reaching [fetch].
Tis hard to trust vnto a multitude, --
Or any one, in mine opinion,
When men themselues their secrets will reueale.