ACT IV - Scene III Measure for Measure
Another room in the same.
| Enter Pompey. | |
| Pompey | 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 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, 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 the tilter, and brave Master Shooty the great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabbed Pots, and, I think, forty more; all great doers in our trade, and are now “for the Lord’s sake.” |
| Enter Abhorson. | |
| Abhorson | Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. |
| Pompey | Master Barnardine! you must rise and be hanged. Master Barnardine! |
| Abhorson | What, ho, Barnardine! |
| Barnardine | Within. A pox o’ your throats! Who makes that noise there? What are you? |
| Pompey | Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death. |
| Barnardine | Within. Away, you rogue, away! I am sleepy. |
| Abhorson | Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too. |
| Pompey | Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards. |
| Abhorson | Go in to him, and fetch him out. |
| Pompey | He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle. |
| Abhorson | Is the axe upon the block, sirrah? |
| Pompey | Very ready, sir. |
| Enter Barnardine. | |
| Barnardine | How now, Abhorson? what’s the news with you? |
| Abhorson | Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers; for, look you, the warrant’s come. |
| Barnardine | You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not fitted for’t. |
| Pompey | 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. |
| Abhorson | 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 hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort you and pray with you. |
| Barnardine | 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 |
O, sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you
|
| Barnardine | I swear I will not die to-day for any man’s persuasion. |
| Duke | But hear you. |
| Barnardine | Not a word: if you have any thing to say to me, come to my ward; for thence will not I to-day. Exit. |
| Duke |
Unfit to live or die: O gravel heart!
|
| Enter Provost. | |
| Provost | Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner? |
| Duke |
A creature unprepared, unmeet for death;
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| Provost |
Here in the prison, father,
|
| Duke |
O, ’tis an accident that heaven provides!
|
| Provost |
This shall be done, good father, presently.
|
| Duke |
Let this be done.
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| Provost | I am your free dependant. |
| Duke |
Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo. Exit Provost.
|
| Reenter Provost. | |
| Provost | Here is the head; I’ll carry it myself. |
| Duke |
Convenient is it. Make a swift return;
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| Provost | I’ll make all speed. Exit. |
| Isabella | Within. Peace, ho, be here! |
| Duke |
The tongue of Isabel. She’s come to know
|
| Enter Isabella. | |
| Isabella | Ho, by your leave! |
| Duke | Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter. |
| Isabella |
The better, given me by so holy a man.
|
| Duke |
He hath released him, Isabel, from the world:
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| Isabella | Nay, but it is not so. |
| Duke |
It is no other: show your wisdom, daughter,
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| Isabella | O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes! |
| Duke | You shall not be admitted to his sight. |
| Isabella |
Unhappy Claudio! wretched Isabel!
|
| Duke |
This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot;
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| Isabella | I am directed by you. |
| Duke |
This letter, then, to Friar Peter give;
|
| Enter 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. |
| Duke | Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholding 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. |
| 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, 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. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick. Exeunt. |