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.
BARNARDINE.
You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not fitted for’t.
POMPEY.
O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night and is hanged betimes in the morning may sleep the sounder all the next day.