_Abhor._ A bawd, sir? fie upon him! he will discredit our mystery. 25 _Prov._ Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn the scale. [_Exit._ _Pom._ Pray, sir, by your good favour,--for surely, sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging look,-- do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery? 30 _Abhor._ Ay, sir; a mystery. _Pom._ Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery: but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be 35 hanged, I cannot imagine. _Abhor._ Sir, it is a mystery. _Pom._ Proof? _Abhor._ Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big 40 enough; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's apparel fits your thief. _Re-enter PROVOST._ _Prov._ Are you agreed? _Pom._ Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth 45 oftener ask forgiveness. _Prov._ You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe to-morrow four o'clock. _Abhor._ Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow. 50 _Pom._ I do desire to learn, sir: and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare; for, truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn. _Prov._ Call hither Barnardine and Claudio: [_Exeunt Pompey and Abhorson._ 55 The one has my pity; not a jot the other, Being a murderer, though he were my brother. _Enter CLAUDIO._ 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? 60 _Claud._ As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones: He will not wake. _Prov._ Who can do good on him? Well, go, prepare yourself. [_Knocking within._] But, hark, what noise?-- Heaven give your spirits comfort! [_Exit Clandio._] By and by.-- 65 I hope it is some pardon or reprieve For the most gentle Claudio. _Enter DUKE disguised as before._ Welcome, father. _Duke._ The best and wholesomest spirits of the night Envelop you, good Provost! Who call'd here of late? _Prov._ None, since the curfew rung. 70 _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.