Bar. [Within] Away, you rogue, away! I am sleepy.
Abhor. Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too.
Pom. Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are 30 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?
35 Pom. Very ready, sir.
Enter Barnardine.
Bar. How now, Abhorson? what’s the news with you?
Abhor. Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers; for, look you, the warrant’s come.