DUKE.
What’s he?
PROVOST.
His name is Barnardine.
DUKE.
I would thou hadst done so by Claudio.
Go fetch him hither, let me look upon him.
[Exit Provost.]
ESCALUS.
I am sorry one so learned and so wise
As you, Lord Angelo, have still appeared,
Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood
And lack of tempered judgement afterward.
ANGELO.
I am sorry that such sorrow I procure,
And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart
That I crave death more willingly than mercy;
’Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.
Enter Provost with Barnardine, Claudio (muffled) and Juliet.
DUKE.
Which is that Barnardine?
PROVOST.
This, my lord.
DUKE.
There was a friar told me of this man.
Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul
That apprehends no further than this world,
And squar’st thy life according. Thou’rt condemned;
But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all,
And pray thee take this mercy to provide
For better times to come. Friar, advise him;
I leave him to your hand.—What muffled fellow’s that?