PROVOST.
Are you agreed?
POMPEY.
Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd. He doth oftener ask forgiveness.
PROVOST.
You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe tomorrow four o’clock.
ABHORSON.
Come on, bawd. I will instruct thee in my trade. Follow.
POMPEY.
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.
PROVOST.
Call hither Barnardine and Claudio.
[Exeunt Abhorson and Pompey.]
Th’ 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 tomorrow
Thou must be made immortal. Where’s Barnardine?