liberty of the prison: give him leave to efcape 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, honesty and conftancy; if I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but in the boldness of my cunning, I will lay myfelf in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo, who hath fentenced him. To make you understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but four days refpite; for the which you are to do me both a prefent and a dangerous courtesy. 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 fmallest.

Duke. By the vow of mine order I warrant you, if my inftructions may be your guide: let this Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head borne 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 faint whom I profefs, 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 fubftitutes.

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?

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 feal of the Duke; you know the character, I doubt not; and the figuet is not strange 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 pleasure; 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 of his entering into fome monaftery; but, by chance, nothing of what is here writ. Look, the unfolding ftar calls up the fhepherd; put not yourself into amazement how these things fhould be; all difficulties are but eafy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine's head: I will give him a prefent fhrift, and advife him for a better place. Yet you are amaz'd, but this shall abfolutely refolve you. Come away, it is almoft clear dawn.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Clown.

[Exeunt.

Clown. "I am as well acquainted here, as I was in our house of profeffion. One would think it were "Miftrefs Overdone's own houfe; for here be many "of her old cuftomers. First, her's young Mr. Rash; 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 fuit of Mafter Three-pile the mercer; for fome four fuits of peach-colour'd fattin, which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we here young Dizzy, and young Mr. Deep-vow, and Mr. Copper-fpur, and Mr. StarveJackey the rapier and dagger-man, and young Drophire that kill'd lufty Pudding, and Mr. Forthright the tilter, and brave Mr. Shooter the great traveller, and wild Half-canne that flabb'd Pots, and, I think, forty

more;

more; all great doers in our trade, and are now in for the Lord's fake.

Enter Abhorfon.

Abhor. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.

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

Abhor. What, hoa, Barnardine!

Barnar. [within] A pox o' your throats; who makes that noife there? what are you?

Clown. Your friend, Sir, the hangman: you must be fo good, Sir, to rife, and be put to death.

Barnar. [within] Away, you rogue, away; I am fleepy.

Abhor. Tell him, he muft awake, and that quickly

too.

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

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

Clown. He is coming, Sir, he is coming; I hear the ftraw ruftle.

Enter Barnardine.

Abhor. Is the ax upon the block, firrah?
Clown. Very ready, Sir.

Barnar. 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. Bernard. 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 jeft now, think you?

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 I will have more time to prepare me, cr

they

they fhall beat out my brains with billets. content to die this day, that's certain.

I will not

Duke. Oh, Sir, you must, and therefore I beseech you look forward on the journey you fhall go.

Barnar. I fwear I will not die to-day for any man's perfuafion.

Duke. But hear you,

Bernar. Not a word: if you have any thing to say to me, come to my ward; for thence will not I to day. [Exit.

SCENE IX.

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 tranfport him in the mind he is,
Were damnable.

Prov. Here in the prifon, 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,
Juft of his colour: what if we omit

This reprobate, till he were well inclin'd;
And fatisfy the deputy with the vifage

Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?

Duke. O, 'tis an accident that heav'n provides :
Dispatch it prefently: the hour draws on
Prefix'd by Angelo: fee this be done,
And fent according to command; while 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,
Ere twice the fun hath made his journal greeting
To th' under generation, you shall find

Your fafety manifested.

Prov. I am your free dependent.

Duke. Quick, dispatch, and fend the head to Angelo. [Exit Provost.

Now will I write letters to Angelo,

(The Provoft, he fhall bear them); whofe contents Shall witness to him, I am near at home;

And that, by great injunctions, I am bound
To enter publicly: him I'll defire

To meet me at the confecrated fount,

A league below the city; and from thence,
By cold gradation and weal-balance'd form,
We fhall proceed with Angelo.

Enter Provoft.

Prov. Here is the head, I'll carry it myself. Duke. Convenient is it: make a swift return; For I'will commune with you of such things, That want no ears but your's.

Prov. I'll make all speed.

Ifab. [within] Peace, hoa, be here!

[Exit.

Duke. The tongue of Ifabel.-She comes to know,

If yet her brother's pardon be come hither:

But I will keep her ign'rant of her good,
To make her heav'nly comforts of defpair,
When it is least expected.

SCENE X. Enter Ifabel.

Ifab. Hoa, by your leave.

Duke. Good morning to you, fair and gracious daugh

ter.

Ifab. The better, giv'n 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.

Ifab. Nay, but it is not fo.

Duke. It is no other.

Shew your wifdom, daughter, in your closest 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. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a jot: Forbear it therefore, give your caufe to heav'n.

VOL. I.

Rr.

Mark