BARNARDINE.
[Within.] Away, you rogue, away; I am sleepy.
ABHORSON.
Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too.
POMPEY.
Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards.
ABHORSON.
Go in to him, and fetch him out.
POMPEY.
He is coming, sir, he is coming. I hear his straw rustle.
Enter Barnardine.
ABHORSON.
Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?
POMPEY.
Very ready, sir.
BARNARDINE.
How now, Abhorson? What’s the news with you?
ABHORSON.
Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers; for, look you, the warrant’s come.