Barnardine within.
Bar. A pox o'your throats: who makes that noyse
there? What are you?
Clo. Your friends Sir, the Hangman:
You must be so good Sir to rise, and be put to death
Bar. Away you Rogue, away, I am sleepie
Abh. Tell him he must awake,
And that quickly too
Clo. Pray Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed,
and sleepe afterwards
Ab. Go in to him, and fetch him out
Clo. He is comming Sir, he is comming: I heare his
Straw russle.
Enter Barnardine.
Abh. Is the Axe vpon the blocke, sirrah?
Clo. Verie readie Sir
Bar. How now Abhorson?
What's the newes with you?
Abh. Truly Sir, I would desire you to clap into your
prayers: for looke you, the Warrants come