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Re-enter DUKE

DUKE. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. ISABELLA. What is your will? DUKE. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you; the satisfaction I would require is likewise your own benefit. ISABELLA. I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile. DUKE. Son, I have overheard what hath pass'd between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an assay of her virtue to practise his judgment with the disposition of natures. She, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death. Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible; to-morrow you must die; go to your knees and make ready. CLAUDIO. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life that I will sue to be rid of it. DUKE. Hold you there. Farewell. Provost, a word with you.

Re-enter PROVOST

PROVOST. What's your will, father? DUKE. That, now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me a while with the maid; my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my company. PROVOST. In good time. Exit PROVOST DUKE. The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good; the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath convey'd to my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother? ISABELLA. I am now going to resolve him; I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good Duke deceiv'd in Angelo! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government. DUKE. That shall not be much amiss; yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation: he made trial of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my advisings; to the love I have in doing good a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious person; and much please the absent Duke, if peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of this business. ISABELLA. Let me hear you speak farther; I have spirit to do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit. DUKE. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick, the great soldier who miscarried at sea? ISABELLA. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. DUKE. She should this Angelo have married; was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed; between which time of the contract and limit of the solemnity her brother Frederick was wreck'd at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo. ISABELLA. Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her? DUKE. Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonour; in few, bestow'd her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not. ISABELLA. What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life that it will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail? DUKE. It is a rupture that you may easily heal; and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it. ISABELLA. Show me how, good father. DUKE. This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point; only refer yourself to this advantage: first, that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience. This being granted in course- and now follows all: we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place. If the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense; and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it? ISABELLA. The image of it gives me content already; and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. DUKE. It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to Angelo; if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to Saint Luke's; there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. ISABELLA. I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father. Exeunt severally

Enter, on one side, DUKE disguised as before; on the other, ELBOW, and OFFICERS with POMPEY

ELBOW. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard. DUKE. O heavens! what stuff is here? POMPEY. 'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him warm; and furr'd with fox on lamb-skins too, to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing. ELBOW. Come your way, sir. Bless you, good father friar. DUKE. And you, good brother father. What offence hath this man made you, sir? ELBOW. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir, for we have found upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have sent to the deputy. DUKE. Fie, sirrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd! The evil that thou causest to be done, That is thy means to live. Do thou but think What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back From such a filthy vice; say to thyself 'From their abominable and beastly touches I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.' Canst thou believe thy living is a life, So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend. POMPEY. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, sir, I would prove- DUKE. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin, Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer; Correction and instruction must both work Ere this rude beast will profit. ELBOW. He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning. The deputy cannot abide a whoremaster; if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand. DUKE. That we were all, as some would seem to be, From our faults, as his faults from seeming, free. ELBOW. His neck will come to your waist- a cord, sir.

Enter LUCIO

POMPEY. I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a gentleman, and a friend of mine. LUCIO. How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of Caesar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be had now for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutch'd? What reply, ha? What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is't not drown'd i' th' last rain, ha? What say'st thou to't? Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The trick of it? DUKE. Still thus, and thus; still worse! LUCIO. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still, ha? POMPEY. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub. LUCIO. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be so; ever your fresh whore and your powder'd bawd- an unshunn'd consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey? POMPEY. Yes, faith, sir. LUCIO. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell; go, say I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey- or how? ELBOW. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. LUCIO. Well, then, imprison him. If imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right. Bawd is he doubtless, and of antiquity, too; bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison, Pompey. You will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house. POMPEY. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail. LUCIO. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage. If you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu trusty Pompey. Bless you, friar. DUKE. And you. LUCIO. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha? ELBOW. Come your ways, sir; come. POMPEY. You will not bail me then, sir? LUCIO. Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, friar? what news? ELBOW. Come your ways, sir; come. LUCIO. Go to kennel, Pompey, go.

Exeunt ELBOW, POMPEY and OFFICERS

What news, friar, of the Duke? DUKE. I know none. Can you tell me of any? LUCIO. Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia; other some, he is in Rome; but where is he, think you? DUKE. I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well. LUCIO. It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to't. DUKE. He does well in't. LUCIO. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him; something too crabbed that way, friar. DUKE. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it. LUCIO. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied; but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say this Angelo was not

made by man and woman after this downright way of creation. Is it true, think you? DUKE. How should he be made, then? LUCIO. Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him; some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true. And he is a motion generative; that's infallible. DUKE. You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace. LUCIO. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the Duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand. He had some feeling of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy. DUKE. I never heard the absent Duke much detected for women; he was not inclin'd that way. LUCIO. O, sir, you are deceiv'd. DUKE. 'Tis not possible. LUCIO. Who- not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish. The Duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too; that let me inform you. DUKE. You do him wrong, surely. LUCIO. Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the Duke; and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing. DUKE. What, I prithee, might be the cause? LUCIO. No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be lock'd within the teeth and the lips; but this I can let you understand: the greater file of the subject held the Duke to be wise. DUKE. Wise? Why, no question but he was. LUCIO. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. DUKE. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking; the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. Therefore you speak unskilfully; or, if your knowledge be more, it is much dark'ned in your malice. LUCIO. Sir, I know him, and I love him. DUKE. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love. LUCIO. Come, sir, I know what I know. DUKE. I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the Duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it; I am bound to call upon you; and I pray you your name? LUCIO. Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the Duke. DUKE. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you. LUCIO. I fear you not. DUKE. O, you hope the Duke will return no more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm: you'll forswear this again. LUCIO. I'll be hang'd first. Thou art deceiv'd in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow or no? DUKE. Why should he die, sir? LUCIO. Why? For filling a bottle with a tun-dish. I would the Duke we talk of were return'd again. This ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves because they are lecherous. The Duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to

light. Would he were return'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. Farewell, good friar; I prithee pray for me. The Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's not past it yet; and, I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar though she smelt brown bread and garlic. Say that I said so. Farewell. Exit DUKE. No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure scape; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? But who comes here?

Enter ESCALUS, PROVOST, and OFFICERS with MISTRESS OVERDONE

ESCALUS. Go, away with her to prison. MRS. OVERDONE. Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted a merciful man; good my lord. ESCALUS. Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind! This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant. PROVOST. A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please your honour. MRS. OVERDONE. My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me. Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the Duke's time; he promis'd her marriage. His child is a year and a quarter old come Philip and Jacob; I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me. ESCALUS. That fellow is a fellow of much license. Let him be call'd before us. Away with her to prison. Go to; no more words. Provost, my brother Angelo will not be alter'd: Claudio must die to-morrow. Let him be furnish'd with divines, and have all charitable preparation. If my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him. PROVOST. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advis'd him for th' entertainment of death. ESCALUS. Good even, good father. DUKE. Bliss and goodness on you! ESCALUS. Of whence are you? DUKE. Not of this country, though my chance is now To use it for my time. I am a brother Of gracious order, late come from the See In special business from his Holiness. ESCALUS. What news abroad i' th' world? DUKE. None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness that the dissolution of it must cure it. Novelty is only in request; and, as it is, as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure; but security enough to make fellowships accurst. Much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the Duke? ESCALUS. One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself. DUKE. What pleasure was he given to? ESCALUS. Rather rejoicing to see another merry than merry at anything which profess'd to make him rejoice; a gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous; and let me desire to know how you find Claudio prepar'd. I am made to understand that you have lent him visitation. DUKE. He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice. Yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I, by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and now he is resolv'd to die. ESCALUS. You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have labour'd for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty; but my brother justice have I found so severe that he hath forc'd me to tell him he is indeed Justice. DUKE. If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentenc'd himself. ESCALUS. I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well. DUKE. Peace be with you! Exeunt ESCALUS and PROVOST

He who the sword of heaven will bear Should be as holy as severe; Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go; More nor less to others paying Than by self-offences weighing. Shame to him whose cruel striking Kills for faults of his own liking! Twice treble shame on Angelo, To weed my vice and let his grow! O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side! How may likeness, made in crimes, Make a practice on the times, To draw with idle spiders' strings Most ponderous and substantial things! Craft against vice I must apply. With Angelo to-night shall lie His old betrothed but despised; So disguise shall, by th' disguised, Pay with falsehood false exacting, And perform an old contracting. Exit

Enter MARIANA; and BOY singing

SONG

Take, O, take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn; But my kisses bring again, bring again; Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, seal'd in vain.

Enter DUKE, disguised as before

MARIANA. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away; Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. Exit BOY I cry you mercy, sir, and well could wish You had not found me here so musical. Let me excuse me, and believe me so, My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe. DUKE. 'Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm To make bad good and good provoke to harm. I pray you tell me hath anybody inquir'd for me here to-day. Much upon this time have I promis'd here to meet. MARIANA. You have not been inquir'd after; I have sat here all day.

Enter ISABELLA

DUKE. I do constantly believe you. The time is come even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little. May be I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yourself. MARIANA. I am always bound to you. Exit DUKE. Very well met, and well come. What is the news from this good deputy? ISABELLA. He hath a garden circummur'd with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd; And to that vineyard is a planched gate That makes his opening with this bigger key; This other doth command a little door Which from the vineyard to the garden leads. There have I made my promise Upon the heavy middle of the night To call upon him. DUKE. But shall you on your knowledge find this way? ISABELLA. I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't; With whispering and most guilty diligence, In action all of precept, he did show me The way twice o'er. DUKE. Are there no other tokens Between you 'greed concerning her observance? ISABELLA. No, none, but only a repair i' th' dark; And that I have possess'd him my most stay Can be but brief; for I have made him know I have a servant comes with me along, That stays upon me; whose persuasion is I come about my brother. DUKE. 'Tis well borne up. I have not yet made known to Mariana A word of this. What ho, within! come forth.

Re-enter MARIANA

I pray you be acquainted with this maid; She comes to do you good. ISABELLA. I do desire the like. DUKE. Do you persuade yourself that I respect you? MARIANA. Good friar, I know you do, and have found it. DUKE. Take, then, this your companion by the hand, Who hath a story ready for your ear. I shall attend your leisure; but make haste; The vaporous night approaches. MARIANA. Will't please you walk aside? Exeunt MARIANA and ISABELLA DUKE. O place and greatness! Millions of false eyes Are stuck upon thee. Volumes of report Run with these false, and most contrarious quest Upon thy doings. Thousand escapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dream, And rack thee in their fancies.

Re-enter MARIANA and ISABELLA

Welcome, how agreed? ISABELLA. She'll take the enterprise upon her, father, If you advise it. DUKE. It is not my consent, But my entreaty too. ISABELLA. Little have you to say, When you depart from him, but, soft and low, 'Remember now my brother.' MARIANA. Fear me not. DUKE. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all. He is your husband on a pre-contract. To bring you thus together 'tis no sin, Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go; Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow. Exeunt

Enter PROVOST and POMPEY

PROVOST. Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head? POMPEY. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a married man, he's his wife's head, and I can never cut of a woman's head. PROVOST. Come, sir, leave me your snatches and yield me a direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper; if you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping, for you have been a notorious bawd. POMPEY. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind; but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to receive some instructions from my fellow partner. PROVOST. What ho, Abhorson! Where's Abhorson there?

Enter ABHORSON

ABHORSON. Do you call, sir? PROVOST. Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in your execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for the present, and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd. ABHORSON. A bawd, sir? Fie upon him! He will discredit our mystery. PROVOST. Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn the scale. Exit POMPEY. Pray, sir, by your good favour- for surely, sir, a good favour you have but that you have a hanging look- do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery? ABHORSON. Ay, sir; a mystery. POMPEY. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery; but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine. ABHORSON. Sir, it is a mystery. POMPEY. Proof? ABHORSON. Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough; so every true man's apparel fits your thief.

Re-enter PROVOST

PROVOST. Are you agreed? POMPEY. Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oftener ask forgiveness. PROVOST. You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe to-morrow four o'clock. ABHORSON. Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow. POMPEY. I do desire to learn, sir; and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare; for truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn. PROVOST. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio. Exeunt ABHORSON and POMPEY Th' one has my pity; not a jot the other, Being a murderer, though he were my brother.

Enter CLAUDIO

Enter DUKE, disguised as before

Welcome, father. DUKE. The best and wholesom'st spirits of the night Envelop you, good Provost! Who call'd here of late? PROVOST. None, since the curfew rung. DUKE. Not Isabel? PROVOST. No. DUKE. They will then, ere't be long. PROVOST. What comfort is for Claudio? DUKE. There's some in hope. PROVOST. It is a bitter deputy. DUKE. Not so, not so; his life is parallel'd Even with the stroke and line of his great justice; He doth with holy abstinence subdue That in himself which he spurs on his pow'r To qualify in others. Were he meal'd with that Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous; But this being so, he's just. Now are they come. Exit PROVOST This is a gentle provost; seldom when The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. How now, what noise! That spirit's possess'd with haste That wounds th' unsisting postern with these strokes.

Re-enter PROVOST

PROVOST. There he must stay until the officer Arise to let him in; he is call'd up. DUKE. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet But he must die to-morrow? PROVOST. None, sir, none. DUKE. As near the dawning, Provost, as it is, You shall hear more ere morning. PROVOST. Happily You something know; yet I believe there comes No countermand; no such example have we. Besides, upon the very siege of justice, Lord Angelo hath to the public ear Profess'd the contrary.

Enter POMPEY

POMPEY. 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 Threepile the mercer, for some four suits of peach-colour'd satin, which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, and young Master Deepvow, and Master Copperspur, and Master Starvelackey, the rapier and dagger man, and young Dropheir that kill'd lusty Pudding, and Master Forthlight the tilter, and brave Master Shootie the great traveller, and wild Halfcan that stabb'd Pots, and, I think, forty more- all great doers in our trade, and are now 'for the Lord's sake.'

Enter ABHORSON

ABHORSON. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. POMPEY. Master Barnardine! You must rise and be hang'd, Master Barnardine! ABHORSON. What ho, Barnardine! BARNARDINE. A pox o' your throats! Who makes that noise there? What are you? POMPEY. Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death. BARNARDINE. Away, you rogue, away; I am sleepy. ABHORSON. Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too. POMPEY. Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards. ABHORSON. Go in to him, and fetch him out. POMPEY. He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle.

Enter BARNARDINE

ABHORSON. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah? POMPEY. Very ready, sir. BARNARDINE. How now, Abhorson, what's the news with you? ABHORSON. Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers; for, look you, the warrant's come. BARNARDINE. You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not fitted for't. POMPEY. 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.

Enter DUKE, disguised as before

ABHORSON. Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly father. Do we jest 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. BARNARDINE. 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 shall go. BARNARDINE. I swear I will not die to-day for any man's persuasion. DUKE. But hear you- BARNARDINE. Not a word; if you have anything to say to me, come to my ward; for thence will not I to-day. Exit DUKE. Unfit to live or die. O gravel heart! After him, fellows; bring him to the block. Exeunt ABHORSON and POMPEY

Enter PROVOST

Re-enter PROVOST

PROVOST. 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. PROVOST. I'll make all speed. Exit ISABELLA. Peace, ho, be here! DUKE. 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.

Enter ISABELLA

Enter LUCIO

Enter ANGELO and ESCALUS

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