CLAUDIO.
As fast locked up in sleep as guiltless labour
When it lies starkly in the traveller’s bones.
He will not wake.
PROVOST.
Who can do good on him?
Well, go, prepare yourself. [Knocking within.] But hark, what noise?
Heaven give your spirits comfort!
[Exit Claudio. Knock within.]
By and by!—
I hope it is some pardon or reprieve
For the most gentle Claudio.
Enter Duke.
Welcome, father.
DUKE.
The best and wholesom’st spirits of the night
Envelop you, good Provost! Who called here of late?
PROVOST.
None, since the curfew rung.
DUKE.
Not Isabel?
PROVOST.
No.