have been a notorious bawd. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind; but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow partner. What, ho! Abhorson! Where's Abhorson, there? Do you call, sir? Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in your execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for the present and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd. A bawd, sir? fie upon him! he will discredit our mystery. Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn the scale. Pray, sir, by your good favour,--for surely, sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging look,--do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery? Ay, sir; a mystery Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery: but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hanged, I cannot imagine. Sir, it is a mystery. Proof? Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's apparel fits your thief. Are you agreed? Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oftener ask forgiveness. You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe to-morrow four o'clock. Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow. I do desire to learn, sir: and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare; for truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio: The one has my pity; not a jot the other, Being a murderer, though he were my brother. Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death: 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine? As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones: He will not wake. Who can do good on him? Well, go, prepare yourself. But, hark, what noise? Heaven give your spirits comfort