Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death;
'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow
Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine?

Claud.
As fast lock'd up in sleep, as guiltless labour
When it lyes starkly in the traveller's bones:
He'll not awake.

Pov.
Who can do good on him?
Well go, prepare your self. But hark, what noise? [Knock within.
Heav'n give your spirits comfort; by and by;
I hope it is some pardon, or reprieve
For the most gentle Claudio. Welcome, father. Enter Duke.

Duke.
The best and wholsom'st spirits of the night
Invellop you, good Provost: who call'd here of late?

Prov.
None since the curphew rung.

Duke.
Not Isabel?

Prov.
No.

Duke.
They will then, ere't be long.

Prov.
What comfort is for Claudio?

Duke.
There's some in hope.

Prov.
It is a bitter Deputy.

Duke.
Not so, not so; his life is parallel'd
Ev'n with the stroak and line of his great justice;
He doth with holy abstinence subdue

That in himself which he spurs on his pow'r
To qualifie 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. [Knock again.
This is a gentle Provost, seldom when
The steeled goaler is the friend of men.
How now? what noise? that spirit's possest with haste
That wounds th' unresisting postern with these strokes.

Prov.
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?

Prov.
None, Sir, none.

Duke.
As near the dawning, Provost, as it is,
You shall hear more ere morning.

Prov.
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 publick ear
Profest the contrary.

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