Junior brother’s cell in the prison
Enter in prison Junior brother.
JUNIOR
Keeper.
[Enter the Keeper.]
KEEPER
My lord.
JUNIOR
No news lately from our brothers?
Are they unmindful of us?
KEEPER
My lord, a messenger came newly in
And brought this from ‘em.
[He hands him a letter.]
JUNIOR
Nothing but paper comforts?
I look’d for my delivery before this
Had they been worth their oaths. Prithee be from us.
[Exit the Keeper.]
Now what say you, forsooth? Speak out, I pray.
[Opens and reads the] letter.
“Brother be of good cheer.”
‘Slud, it begins like a whore with good cheer!
“Thou shalt not be long a prisoner.”
Not five and thirty year like a bankrout, I think so.
“We have thought upon a device to get thee out by a trick.”
By a trick! Pox a’ your trick and it be so long a-playing!
“And so rest comforted, be merry and expect it suddenly.”
Be merry, hang merry, draw and quarter merry, I’ll be mad!
Is’t not strange that a man should lie in a whole month for a woman? Well, we shall see how sudden our brothers will be in their promise. I must expect still a trick! I shall not be long a prisoner!
[Enter the Keeper with four Officers.]
How now, what news?
KEEPER
Bad news, my lord; I am discharg’d of you.
JUNIOR
Slave, call’st thou that bad news? I thank you, brothers!
KEEPER
My lord, ‘twill prove so; here come the officers
Into whose hands I must commit you.
JUNIOR
Ha, officers? What, why?
FIRST OFFICER
You must pardon us, my lord;
Our office must be sound: here is our warrant,
The signet from the duke; you must straight suffer.
JUNIOR
Suffer? I’ll suffer you to be gone, I’ll suffer you
To come no more! What would you have me suffer?
SECOND OFFICER
My lord, those words were better chang’d to prayers;
The time’s but brief with you: prepare to die.
JUNIOR
Sure ’tis not so.
THIRD OFFICER
It is too true, my lord.
JUNIOR
I tell you ’tis not, for the duke my father
Deferr’d me till next sitting, and I look
E’en every minute, threescore times an hour,
For a release, a trick wrought by my brothers.
FIRST OFFICER
A trick, my lord? If you expect such comfort,
Your hopes as fruitless as a barren woman:
Your brothers were the unhappy messengers
That brought this powerful token for your death.
JUNIOR
My brothers? No, no!
SECOND OFFICER
’Tis most true, my lord.
JUNIOR
My brothers to bring a warrant for my death?
How strange this shows!
THIRD OFFICER
There’s no delaying time.
JUNIOR
Desire ‘em hither, call ‘em up, my brothers!
They shall deny it to your faces.
FIRST OFFICER
My lord,
They’re far enough by this, at least at court,
And this most strict command they left behind ‘em,
When grief swum in their eyes: they show’d like brothers,
Brimful of heavy sorrow; but the duke
Must have his pleasure.
JUNIOR
His pleasure?
FIRST OFFICER
These were their last words which my memory bears:
“Commend us to the scaffold in our tears.”
JUNIOR
Pox dry their tears! What should I do with tears?
I hate ‘em worse than any citizen’s son
Can hate salt water. Here came a letter now,
New-bleeding from their pens, scarce stinted yet;
Would I’d been torn in pieces when I tore it.
Look, you officious whoresons, words of comfort:
“Not long a prisoner.”
FIRST OFFICER
It says true in that, sir, for you must suffer presently.
JUNIOR
A villainous duns upon the letter! Knavish exposition! Look you then here, sir: “we’ll get thee out by a trick,” says he.
SECOND OFFICER
That may hold too, sir, for you know a trick is commonly four cards, which was meant by us four officers.
JUNIOR
Worse and worse dealing!
FIRST OFFICER
The hour beckons us.
The heads-man waits; lift up your eyes to heaven.
JUNIOR
I thank you, faith; good, pretty, wholesome counsel.
I should look up to heaven, as you said,
Whilst he behind me cozens me of my head;
Ay, that’s the trick.
THIRD OFFICER
You delay too long, my lord.
JUNIOR
Stay, good authority’s bastards, since I must
Through brothers’ perjury die, oh, let me venom
Their souls with curses!
FIRST OFFICER
Come, ’tis no time to curse.
JUNIOR
Must I bleed then without respect of sign? Well,
My fault was sweet sport, which the world approves;
I die for that which every woman loves.
Exeunt.