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 Threepile the mercer, for some
four
suits of peach-colour'd satin, which now peaches him a
beggar.
Then have we here young Dizy, and young Master Deepvow, and
Master Copperspur, and Master Starvelackey, the rapier and
dagger
man, and young Dropheir that kill'd lusty Pudding, and Master
Forthlight the tilter, and brave Master Shootie the great
traveller, and wild Halfcan that stabb'd 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 hang'd, 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.
Enter BARNARDINE
ABHORSON. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?
POMPEY. Very ready, sir.
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.
Enter DUKE, disguised as before
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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