I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of profession. One

would think it were Mistress Overdone’s own house, for here be many of

her old customers. First, here’s young Master Rash; he’s in for a

commodity of brown paper and old ginger, nine score and seventeen

pounds; of which he made five marks ready money. Marry, then ginger was

not much in request, for the old women were all dead. Then is there

here one Master Caper, at the suit of Master Three-pile the mercer, for

some four suits of peach-coloured satin, which now peaches him a

beggar. Then have we here young Dizie, and young Master Deep-vow, and

Master Copperspur, and Master Starve-lackey, the rapier and dagger man,

and young Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master Forthright

the tilter, and brave Master Shoe-tie the great traveller, and wild

Half-can that stabbed Pots, and I think forty more, all great doers in

our trade, and are now “for the Lord’s sake.”

Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.

Master Barnardine! You must rise and be hanged, Master Barnardine.

What ho, Barnardine!

[_Within_.] A pox o’ your throats! Who makes that noise there? What are

you?

Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so good, sir, to rise and

be put to death.

[_Within_.] Away, you rogue, away; I am sleepy.

Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too.

Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep

afterwards.

Go in to him, and fetch him out.

He is coming, sir, he is coming. I hear his straw rustle.

Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?

Very ready, sir.

How now, Abhorson? What’s the news with you?

Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers; for, look

you, the warrant’s come.

You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not fitted for’t.

O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night and is hanged betimes

in the morning may sleep the sounder all the next day.

Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly father. Do we jest now, think

you?

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.

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.

O, sir, you must; and therefore I beseech you

Look forward on the journey you shall go.

I swear I will not die today for any man’s persuasion.

But hear you—

Not a word. If you have anything to say to me, come to my ward, for

thence will not I today.

Unfit to live or die. O gravel heart!

After him, fellows; bring him to the block.

Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner?

A creature unprepared, unmeet for death;

And to transport him in the mind he is

Were damnable.

Here in the prison, father,

There died this morning of a cruel fever

One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate,

A man of Claudio’s years; his beard and head

Just of his colour. What if we do omit

This reprobate till he were well inclined,

And satisfy the Deputy with the visage

Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?

O, ’tis an accident that heaven provides!

Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on

Prefixed by Angelo. See this be done,

And sent according to command, whiles I

Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die.

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

If he were known alive?

Let this be done:

Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio.

Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting

To yonder generation, you shall find

Your safety manifested.

I am your free dependant.

Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo.

Now will I write letters to Angelo,

The Provost, he shall bear them, whose contents

Shall witness to him I am near at home;

And that by great injunctions I am bound

To enter publicly. Him I’ll desire

To meet me at the consecrated fount,

A league below the city; and from thence,

By cold gradation and well-balanced form.

We shall proceed with Angelo.

Here is the head; I’ll carry it myself.

Convenient is it. Make a swift return;

For I would commune with you of such things

That want no ear but yours.

I’ll make all speed.

[_Within_.] Peace, ho, be here!

The tongue of Isabel. She’s come to know

If yet her brother’s pardon be come hither.

But I will keep her ignorant of her good,

To make her heavenly comforts of despair

When it is least expected.

Ho, by your leave!

Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.

The better, given me by so holy a man.

Hath yet the Deputy sent my brother’s pardon?

He hath released him, Isabel, from the world.

His head is off, and sent to Angelo.

Nay, but it is not so.

It is no other.

Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience.

O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes!

You shall not be admitted to his sight.

Unhappy Claudio! Wretched Isabel!

Injurious world! Most damned Angelo!

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 tomorrow;—nay, dry your eyes.

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,

There to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom

In that good path that I would wish it go,

And you shall have your bosom on this wretch,

Grace of the Duke, revenges to your heart,

And general honour.

I am directed by you.

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 tonight. Her cause and yours

I’ll perfect him withal, and he shall bring you

Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo

Accuse him home and home. For my poor self,

I am combined by a sacred vow,

And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter.

Command these fretting waters from your eyes

With a light heart; trust not my holy order,

If I pervert your course.—Who’s here?

Good even. Friar, where is the Provost?

Not within, sir.

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 tomorrow. By my troth, Isabel,

I loved thy brother. If the old fantastical duke of dark corners had

been at home, he had lived.

Sir, the Duke is marvellous little beholding to your reports; but the

best is, he lives not in them.

Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so well as I do. He’s a better woodman

than thou tak’st him for.

Well, you’ll answer this one day. Fare ye well.

Nay, tarry, I’ll go along with thee. I can tell thee pretty tales of

the Duke.

You have told me too many of him already, sir, if they be true; if not

true, none were enough.

I was once before him for getting a wench with child.

Did you such a thing?

Yes, marry, did I; but I was fain to forswear it. They would else have

married me to the rotten medlar.

Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well.

By my troth, I’ll go with thee to the lane’s end. If bawdy talk offend

you, we’ll have very little of it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I

shall stick.