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William Aldis Wright [1863–1866], The works of William Shakespeare edited by William George Clark... and John Glover [and William Aldis Wright] (Macmillan and Co., London) [word count] [S10701].
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Scene III. [Footnote: Another room in the same. Enter Pompey.

Pom.

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 note 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 Dizy note, and young Master Deep-vow, and Master Copper-spur, and Master Starve-lackey the rapier and dagger man, and young Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master Forthlight note the tilter, and brave Master Shooty note the great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabbed Pots, and, I think, forty more;

-- 362 --

all great doers in our trade, and are note now note ‘for the Lord's sake.’

Enter Abhorson.

Abhor.

Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.

Pom.

Master Barnardine! you must rise and be hanged, Master Barnardine!

Abhor.

What, ho, Barnardine!

Bar. [Within]

A pox o' your throats! Who makes that noise there? What are you?

Pom.

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

Bar. [Within]

Away, you rogue, away! I am sleepy.

Abhor.

Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too.

Pom.

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

Abhor.

Go in to him, and fetch him out.

Pom.

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

Abhor.

Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?

Pom.

Very ready, sir.

Enter Barnardine.

Bar.

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.

Bar.

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

Pom.

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.

Abhor.

Look you, sir; here comes your ghostly father: do we jest now, think you?

Enter Duke disguised as before.

Duke.

Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how

-- 363 --

hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort you and pray with you.

Bar.

Friar, not I: I note 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.

Bar.

I swear I will not die to-day for any man's persuasion.

Duke.

But hear note you.

Bar.

Not a word: if you have any thing to say to me, notecome to my ward; for thence will not I to-day.

[Exit.

Duke.
Unfit to live or die: O gravel heart note! note
After him, fellows; bring him to the block.
[Exeunt Abhorson and Pompey. Re-enter Provost.

Prov.
Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner?

Duke.
A creature unprepared, unmeet for death;
And to transport him in the mind he is
Were damnable.

Prov.
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 note colour. What if we do note omit
This reprobate till he were well inclined;
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 note I

-- 364 --


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 note:
Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting
To the under note generation, you shall find
Your safety manifested note.

Prov.
I am your free dependant.

Duke.
Quick note, 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 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- notebalanced form,
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. note

Isab. [Within]
Peace, ho, be here!

Duke.
The tongue of Isabel. She's come note to know

-- 365 --


If yet her brother's pardon be come hither:
But I will keep her ignorant of her good,
To make her heavenly comforts note of despair,
When it is least expected. Enter Isabella.

Isab.
Ho, note 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 released him, Isabel, from the world:
His head is off, and sent to Angelo.
note

Isab.
Nay, but it is not so.

Duke.
It is no other: show your wisdom note, daughter,
In your close note patience note.

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 note world! most damned Angelo!

Duke.
This nor hurts note him nor profits you a jot;
Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven.
Mark what I say note, which you shall find note
By every syllable a faithful verity:
The Duke comes home to-morrow;—nay note, dry your eyes;
One of our covent note, and his confessor,
Gives me this instance note: 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 note your wisdom

-- 366 --


In that good path that I would wish it go; note
And you shall have your bosom 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 note. 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 note 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 note here?
noteEnter Lucio.

Lucio.

Good even. Friar, where's the provost?

Duke.

Not within, sir.

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 loved thy brother: if the old fantastical Duke of dark corners had been at home, he had lived.

[Exit Isabella note.

Duke.

Sir, the Duke is marvellous little beholding note to your reports; but the best is, he lives not in them.

Lucio.

Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so well as I do: he's a better woodman than thou takest him for.

-- 367 --

Duke.

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

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 note, 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 married 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 note. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick.

[Exeunt. note
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William Aldis Wright [1863–1866], The works of William Shakespeare edited by William George Clark... and John Glover [and William Aldis Wright] (Macmillan and Co., London) [word count] [S10701].
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