SCENE IV.
Enter Clown.
Clown.
I am as well acquainted here, as I was in
our house of profession: one would think, it were
mistress Over-done's own house, for here be many of
her old customers. First, here young master Rash5 note; 9Q0198
he's in for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger6 note
,
ninescore and seventeen pounds; of which he
-- 122 --
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-colour'd satin, which now peaches him
a beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, and young
master Deep-vow, and master Copper-spur, and master
Starve-lacky the rapier and dagger-man, and
young Drop-heir that kill'd lusty Pudding, and master
Forthright7 note
the tilter, 8 note
and brave master Shoe-tye
-- 123 --
the great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabb'd
Pots, and, I think, forty more; all great doers in our
trade, and are now in for the Lord's sake9 note
note, and did it for the Lord's sake.”
Steevens.. 9Q0199
Enter Abhorson.
Abhor.
Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.
Clown.
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?
Clown.
Your friends, sir; the hangman: You
must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death.
Barnar. [Within.]
Away you rogue, away; I am
sleepy.
Abhor.
Tell him, he must awake, and that quickly
too.
Clown.
Pray, master Barnadine, awake till you are
executed, and sleep afterwards.
Abhor.
Go in to him, and fetch him out.
Clown.
He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear
his straw rustle.
-- 124 --
Enter Barnardine.
Abhor.
Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?
Clown.
Very ready, sir.
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 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
sleep the sounder all the next day.
Enter Duke.
Abhor.
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.
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.
Oh, sir, you must: and therefore, I beseech
you, look forward on the journey you shall go.
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 today.
[Exit.
Enter Provost.
Duke.
Unfit to live, or die: Oh, gravel heart!—
After him, fellows; bring him to the block1 note
,
[Exeunt Abhorson and Clown.
-- 125 --
Prov.
Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner?
Duke.
A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for death;
And, to transport him2 note 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 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 inclin'd;
And satisfy the deputy with the visage
Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?
Duke.
O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides!
Dispatch 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,
If he were known alive?
Duke.
Let this be done,—Put them
In secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio:
Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting
To the under generation3 note
, you shall find
Your safety manifested.
-- 126 --
Prov.
I am your free dependent.
Duke.
Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo.
[Exit Provost.
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 publickly: him I'll desire
To meet me at the consecrated fount,
A league below the city; and from thence,
By cold gradation and weal-balanced form4 note,
We shall proceed with Angelo.
Re-enter Provost.
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.
Prov.
I'll make all speed.
[Exit.
Isab. [Within.]
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 expected5 note.
Enter Isabella.
Isab.
Ho, by your leave.—
Duke.
Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.
-- 127 --
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.
Duke.
It is no other:
Shew your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience.
Isab.
Oh, 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 your eyes;
One of our convent, and his confessor,
Gives me this instance: already he hath carry'd
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 bosom6 note on this wretch,
Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart,
And general honour.
Isab.
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 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,
-- 128 --
I am combined7 note by a sacred vow,
And shall be absent. Wend8 note
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?
Enter Lucio.
Lucio.
Good even!
Friar, where is the provost?
Duke.
Not within, sir.
Lucio.
Oh, pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart,
to see thy 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 lov'd thy brother:
if the old9 note fantastical duke of dark corners 9Q0200 had been
at home, he had liv'd.
[Exit Isabella.
Duke.
Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholden
to your report; but the best is, he lives not in them1 note.
Lucio.
Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as
I do: he's a better woodman 9Q02012 note
, than thou tak'st him
for.
Duke.
Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare ye
well.
-- 129 --
Lucio.
Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee; I can
tell thee pretty tales of the duke.
Duke.
You have told me too many of him already,
sir, if they be true; if not true, none were enough.
Lucio.
I was once before him for getting a wench
with child.
Duke.
Did you such a thing?
Lucio.
Yes, marry, did I: but I was fain to forswear
it; they would else have marry'd me to the
rotten medlar.
Duke.
Sir, your company is fairer than honest: Rest
you well.
Lucio.
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.
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].