Duke. Hath he born himself penitently in Prison ? How feems he to be touch'd?

Prov. A Man that apprehends Death no more dreadfully, but as a drunken Sleep, carelefs, wreaklefs, and fearless of what's paft, prefent, or to come; infenfible of Mortality, and defperately mortal.

Duke. He wants Advice.

Prov. He will hear none; he hath evermore had the liberty of the Prison: Give him leave to escape hence, he would not: Drunk many times a Day, if not many Days entirely drunk. We have very oft awak'd him, as if to carry him to Execution, and fhew'd him a feeming Warrant for it; it hath not mov'd him at all.

Duke. More of him anon. There is written in your Brow, Provost, Honefty and Conftancy; if I read it not truly, my ancient Skill beguiles me; but in the boldness of my cunning, I will lay my felf in Hazard. Claudio, whom here you have Warrant to execute, is no greater Forfeit to the Law than Angelo, who hath fentenc'd him. To make you understand this in a manifefted Effect, I crave but four Days Refpite; for the which you are to do me both a present and a dangerous Courtefie.

Prov. Pray, Sir, in what?

Duke. In the delaying Death.

Prov. Alack! how may I do it? Having the Hour limited, and an exprefs Command, under Penalty, to deliver his Head in the view of Angelo, I may make my Cafe as Claudio's, to cross this in the fmalleft..

If

Duke. By the Vow of mine Order, I warrant you, my Inftructions may be your Guide:

Let this Barnardine be this Morning executed,

And his Head born to Angelo.

Prov. Angelo hath seen them both,

And will difcover the Favour.

Duke. Oh, Death's a great Difguifer, and you may add to it; fhave the Head, and tie the Beard, and fay, it was the Defire of the Penitent to be fo barb'd before his Death; you know the Course is common. If any thing fall to you upon this, more than Thanks and good Fortune; by the Saint whom I prefefs, I will plead against it with my Life,

Prov. Pardon me, good Father; it is against my Oath. Duke. Were you fworn to the Duke, or to the Deputy? Prov. To him, and to his Subftitutes.

Duke. You will think you have made no Offence, if the Duke avouch the Juftice of your Dealing?

Prov. But what likelihood is in that?

T

Duke. Not a Refemblance, but a Certainty; yet fince I fee you fearful, that neither my Coat, Integrity, nor my Perfuafion, can with ease attempt you, I will go further than I meant, to pluck all Fears out of you. Look you, Sir, here is the Hand and Seal of the Duke; you' know the Character, I doubt not, and the Signet is not ftrange to you. Prov. I know them both.

Duke. The Contents of this is the Return of the Duke; you fhall anon over-read it at your Pleafure; where you fhall find within thefe 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 entring into fome Monaftery, but by chance nothing of what is writ. Look, th' unfolding Star calls up the Shepherd; put not your felf into amazement how thefe things fhould be; all Difficulties are but eafie when they are known. Call your Executioner, and off with Barnardine's Head: I will give him a prefent Shrift, and advise him for a better Place. Yet you are amaz'd, but this fhall abfolutely refolve you. Come away, it is almost clear Dawn. [Exit.

Enter Clown.

Clown. I am as well acquainted here, as I was in our Houfe of Profeffion; one would think it were Mistress Over-don's own Houfe; for here be many of her old Cuftomers: Firft, here's young Mr. Rafh; he's in 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 Suit of Mafter Three-Pile, the Mercer, for fome four Suits of Peach-colour'd Sattin, which now peaches him a Beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, and young Mr. Deep-vow, and Mr. Copper-fpure, and Ma

fter

fter Starve-Lacky, the Rapier and Dagger Man, and young Dropheire, that kill'd lufty Pudding, and Mr. Forth-light, the Tilter, and brave Mr. Shooty, 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 for the Lord's fake.

Enter Abhorfon.

Abhor. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither,

Clown. Mafter Barnardine, you must rife and be hang'd, Mafter Barnardine.

Abhor. What hoa, Barnardine!

1.

Barnardine within.

Barnar. 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. Away, you Rogue, away, I am sleepy.
Abhor. Tell him he muft awake,

And that quickly too.

Clown. Pray. Mafter Barnardine, awake 'till you are exeted, and fleep afterwards.

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

Clown. He is coming, Sir, he is coming; I hear his Straw rufsle.

Enter Barnardine.

Abhor. Is the Ax upon the Block, Sirrah?

Clown. Very ready, Sir.

Baryar. 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 ghoftly Father; Do we jest now, think you?

Duke

Duke. Sir, induced by my Charity, and hearing how haftily 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 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 befeech you look forward on the Journey you fhall go.

Barnar. Ifwear 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 say to me, come to my Ward; for thence will not I to Day. [Exit. Enter Provost.

Duke. Unfit to live, or die: Oh gravel Heart!
After him, Fellows: Bring him to the Block.
Prov. Now, Sir, how do you find the Prisoner?
Duke. A Creature unprepar'd, unmeet for Death;
And to transport him in the Mind he is,
Were damnable.

Prov. Here in the Prifon, Father,

There dy'd this Morning of a cruel Fever,
One Rogozine, a moft notorious Pirate,
'A Man of Claudio's Years; his Beard and Head
Juft of his Colour. What if we do omit
This Reprobate, 'till he were well enclin'd,
And fatisfie the Deputy with the Visage
Of Rogozine, more like to Claudio?

Duke. Oh, 'tis an Accident that Heav'n provides:
Dispatch it presently; the Hour draws on

Prefixt by Angelo: See this be done,

And fent according to Command, whiles I

Perfuade this rude Wretch willingly to die.

Prov. This fhall be done, good Father, prefently, But Barnardine muft die this Afternoon:

'And how fhall we continue Claudio,

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:

E'er

E'er twice the Sun hath made his Journal greeting

To yond Generation, you shall find

Your Safety manifested.

Prov. I am your free Dependant.

[Exit.

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

Now will I write Letters to Angelo,

The Provoft he shall bear them, whofe Contents

Shall witness to him I am near at home;
And that by great Injunctions I am bound
To enter publickly: Him I'll defire
To meet me at the confecrated Fount,
A League below the City; and from thence,
By cold Gradation, and well-ballanc'd Form,
We fhall proceed with Angelo.

Enter Provost.

Prov. Here is the Head, I'll carry it my felf. Duke. Convenient is it: Make a fwift Return; For I would commune with you of fuch things That want no Ear but yours.

Prov. I'll make all speed.

Ifabel within.

Ifab. Peace hoa, be here.

Duke. The Tongue of Ifabel. 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 heav'nly Comforts of Despair,
When it is least expected.

Enter Ifabel,

Ifab. Hoa, by your Leave.

[Exit,

Duke. Good Morning to you, fair and gracious Daughter. Ifab. The better given 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.

Ifa. Nay, but it is not fo.

Duke. It is no other.

Shew your Wisdom, Daughter, in your close 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 Ifabel!

Injurious World, moft damned Angelo!

Duke