Abhor. Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too.
Pom. Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards.
Abhor. Go in to him, and fetch him out.
Pom. He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle.
Abhor. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?
Pom. Very ready, sir.
Act IV., Scene 3, lines 23-40.
[Page 73,] line 3. The Angel in Milton.
Made so adorn for they delight the more,
So awful, that with honour thou may'st love
Thy mate, who sees when thou art seen least wise.
Paradise Lost, VIII., 576-578.