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Duke. The contents of this is the return of the Duke; you fhall anon over-read it at your pleasure; where you fhall find, within these two days he will be here. This is a thing, which Angelo knows not, for he this very day receives letters of ftrange tenor; perchance, of the Duke's death; perchance, of his entering into fome monaftery; but, by chance, nothing of what is here writ. Look, the unfolding ftar calls up the fhepherd; put not yourself into amazement how these things fhould be; all difficulties are but easy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine's head: I will give him a present fhrift, and advise him for a better place. Yet you are amaz'd, but this fhall abfolutely refolve you. Come it is almoft clear dawn. [Exeunt.

away,

Clown.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Clown.

I Am as well acquainted here, as I was in

our houfe of profeffion; one would think, it were miftrefs Over-done's own houfe; for here be many of her old cuftomers. Firft, here's young Mr. Rafh; he's for a commodity of brown pepper and old ginger, ninefcore and feventeen pounds; of which he made five marks ready money: marry, then, ginger was not much in requeft: for the old women were all dead. Then is there here one Mr. Caper, at the fuit of mafter Three-Pile the mercer; for fome four fuits of peach-colour'd fattin, which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we here young Dizzy, and young Mr. Deep-vow, and Mr. Copper-fpur, and malter Starve-lacky the rapier and dagger-man, and young Drop-heire that kill'd lufty Pudding, and Mr. Forth-right the tilter, and brave Mr. Shooter the great traveller, and wild Half-canne that stabb'd Pots, and, I think, forty more; all great doers in our trade, and are now in for the Lord's fake.

Enter

Enter Abhorfon.

Abhor. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. Clown. Master Barnardine, you must rise and be hang'd, mafter Barnardine.

Abhor. What, hoa, Barnardine!

Barnar. [within.] A pox o' your throats; who makes that noise there? what are you?

Clown. Your friend, Sir, the hangman: you must be fo good, Sir, to rife, and be put to death.

Barnar. [within.] Away, you rogue, away; I am fleepy.

Abhor. Tell him, he muft awake, and that quickly

too.

Clown. Pray, mafter Barnardine, awake 'till you are executed, and fleep afterwards.

Abhor. Go in to him, and fetch him out.

Clown. He is coming, Sir, he is coming; I hear the ftraw rustle.

Enter Barnardine.

Abhor. Is the ax upon the block, Sirrah?
Clown. Very ready, Sir.

Barnar. How now, Abhorfon? what's the news with you?

Abhor. Truly, Sir, I would defire you to clap into your prayers: for, look you, the warrant's come. Barnar. You rogue, I have been drinking all night, I am not fitted for't.

Clown. Oh, the better, Sir; for he that drinks all night, and is hang'd betimes in the morning, may fleep the founder all the next day.

Enter Duke.

Abhor. Look you, Sir, here comes your gholly father; do we jeft now, think you?

Duke. Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how haftily you are to depart, I am come to advise comfort you, and pray with you.

you,

Barnar.

Barnar. Friar, not I: I have been drinking hard all night, and I will have more time to prepare me, or they fhall beat out my brains with billets: I will not confent to die this day, that's certain.

Duke. Oh, Sir, you muft; and therefore, I beseech you, look forward on the journey you fhall go. Barnar. I fwear, I will not die to day for any man's perfuafion.

Duke. But hear you,

Barnar. Not a word: if you have any thing to fay to me, come to my ward; for thence will not I to

day.

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[Exit.

Duke. TNFIT to live, or die: oh, gravel heart! After him, fellows: bring him to the block.

Prov. Now, Sir, how do you find the prifoner? Duke. A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for death; And, to tranfport him in the mind he is, Were damnable.

Prov. Here in the prison, father,

There dy'd this morning of a cruel fever
One Ragozine, a moft notorious pirate,
A man of Claudio's years; his beard, and head,
Juft of his colour: What if we omit
This reprobate, 'till he were well inclin'd;
And fatisfy the deputy with the visage
Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?

Duke. O, 'tis an accident, that heav'n provides:

Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on

Prefixt by Angelo: fee, this be done,

And fent according to command; while I.

Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die.

Prov. This fhall be done, good father, presently: But Barnardine muft die this afternoon:

And how fhall we continue Claudio,

Το

To fave me from the danger that might come,

If he were known alive?

Duke. Let this be done;

Put them in fecret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio:
Ere twice the fun hath made his journal greeting
To th' under generation, you fhall find

Your fafety manifested.

Prov. I am your free dependant.

Duke. Quick, dispatch, and fend the head to Angelo.

Now will I write letters to Angelo,

[Exit Provoft.

(The Provost, he shall bear them;) whofe contents
Shall witnefs to him, I am near at home;
And that, by great injunctions, I am bound
To enter publicly: him I'll defire

To meet me at the confecrated fount,

A league below the city; and from thence,
By cold gradation and weal-balanced form,
We fhall proceed with Angelo.

Enter Provost.

Prov. Here is the head, I'll carry it myself. Duke. Convenient is it: make a swift return; For I will commune with you of such things, That want no ears but yours.

If

Prov. I'll make all speed.

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Ifab. [within.] Peace, hoa, be here!

[Exit.

Duke. The tongue of Ifabel.-She comes to know, yet her brother's pardon be come hither:

But I will keep her ign'rant of her good,

To make her heav'nly comforts of defpair,
When it is leaft expected.

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OA, by your leave.

Jab. Huke. Good morning to you, fair and

gracious daughter.

Ifab.

Ifab. The better, giv'n me by fo holy a man: Hath yet the deputy fent my brother's pardon? Duke. He hath releas'd him, Ifabel, from the world; His head is off, and fent to Angelo.

Ifab. Nay, but it is not so.

Duke. It is no other.

Shew your wisdom, daughter, in your closest patience.
Ifab. Oh, I will to him, and pluck out his eyes.
Duke. You fhall not be admitted to his fight.
Ifab. Unhappy Claudio! wretched Isabel!
Injurious world! moft damned Angelo !

Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a jot:
Forbear it therefore, give your cause to heav'n:
Mark, what I fay; which you fhall surely find
By ev'ry fyllable a faithful verity.

The Duke comes home to-morrow; dry your eyes;
One of our convent, and his confeffor,

Gives me this instance: already he hath carry'd
Notice to Efcalus and Angelo,

Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, [wisdom
There to give up their pow'r. If you can, pace your
In that good path that I would wish it go,

And you shall have your bofom on this wretch,
Grace of the Duke, revenges to your heart,
And gen'ral honour.

Ifab. I'm directed by you.

Duke. This letter then to Friar Peter give;
'Tis That he fent me of the Duke's return:
Say, by this token, I defire his company
At Mariana's houfe to night. Her caufe and yours
I'll perfect him withal, and he fhall bring you
Before the Duke, and to the head of Angelo
Accufe him home, and home. For my poor felf,
I am combined, by a facred vow,

And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter:
Command these fretting waters from your eyes
With a light heart; truft not my holy Order,
If I pervert your courfe.

Who's here?

SCENE

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