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think, forty more; al! great doers in our trade, and are now for the Lord's sake.
Abhor. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.
Clo. Master Barnardine! you must rise and be hang'd, master Barnardine!
Abhor. What, ho, Barnardine !
Barnar. [within.] A pox o'your throats! Who makes that noise there? What are you?
Clo. Your friends, sir; the hangman: You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death.
Barnar. [within.] Away, yoù rogue, away; I am sleepy.
Abhor. Tell him he must awake, and that quickly
Clo. Pray, master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards.
Abhor. Go in to him, and fetch him out.
Clo. He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle.
Abhor. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?
Barnar. How now, Abhorson? what's the news with you?
Abhor. Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers; for, look you, the warrant's
Barnar. You rogue, I have been drinking all night, I am not fitted for't.
Clo. O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night, and is hang'd betimes in the morning, may sleep the sounder all the next day.
Abhor. Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly father; Do we jest you now, think you?
Duke. Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort you, and pray with you.
Barnar. Friar, not I; I have been drinking hard all night, and I will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my brains with billets: I will not consent to die this day, that's certain. Duke. O, sir, you must: and therefore, I beseech you,
Look forward on the journey you
Barnar. I swear, I will not die to-day for any man's persuasion.
Duke. But hear you.
Barnar. Not a word; if you have any thing to say to me, come to my ward; for thence will not I to-day.
Duke. Unfit to live or die: O, gravel heart! After him, fellows; bring him to the block.
[Exeunt ABHORSON and Clown. Prov. Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner? Duke. A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for death; And, to transport him in the mind he is,
Here in the prison, father,
There died this morning of a cruel fever
Duke. O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides ! Despatch it presently; the hour draws on Prefix'd by Angelo: See, this be done, And sent according to command: whiles I Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. Prov. This shall be done, good father, presently. But Barnardine must die this afternoon:
And how shall we continue Claudio,
To save me from the danger that might come,
Duke. Let this be done:- Put them in secret holds,
Both Barnardine and Claudio: Ere twice
Your safety manifested.
Prov. I am your free dependant.
And send the head to Angelo.
Prov. Here is the head; I'll carry it myself. Duke. Convenient is it: Make a swift return; For I would commune with you of such things, That want no ear but yours.
3 The antipodes.
I'll make all speed.
Isab. [within.] Peace, ho, be here!
Duke. The tongue of Isabel:- She's come to
If yet her brother's pardon be come hither:
Isab. Ho, by your leave.
Duke. Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.
Isab. The better, given me by so holy a man. Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon? Duke. He hath releas'd him, Isabel, from the world;
His head is off, and sent to Angelo.
Isab. Nay, but it is not so.
It is no other:
Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close pa
Isab. O, I will to him, and pluck out his eyes. Duke. You shall not be admitted to his sight. Isab. Unhappy Claudio! Wretched Isabel! Injurious world! Most damned Angelo!
Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a jot: Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven. Mark what I say, which you shall find
By every syllable, a faithful verity:
The duke comes home to-morrow;-nay, dry
One of our convent, and his confessor,
Gives me this instance: Already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and Angelo;
Who do prepare to meet him at the gates,
In that good path that I would wish it go;
I am directed by you.
Duke. This letter then to friar Peter give; 'Tis that he sent me of the duke's return: Say, by this token, I desire his company
At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause, and
I'll perfect him withal; and he shall bring you
And shall be absent. Wends you with this letter;
Lucio. O, pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart, to see thine eyes so red: thou must be patient: I am fain to dine and sup with water and bran; I dare not for my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal would set me to't: But they say the duke will be here to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I lov'd thy brother: if the old fantastical
4 Your heart's desire.