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110

O na, save your presence! I'll go with the jailor here.

Ay, he is but a poor bashful clown, and don't know how to behave himself in good company. (Exeunt Executioners.

Shake hands with him, Mary preserve us! it sets the very ends of my fingers a dingling. Drink out of the same mug with him too! (sputtering with his lips) poh! poh! poh! the taste of raw heads and carrion is on my lips at the thoughts of it. (To Jailor.) Come let us go out of this place; I be long enough here. (stopping short as he goes off.) What noise and hammering is this we hear?

It is the workmen putting up the scaffold.

What, are we so near to it? mercy on us! let me get out of this place; for it puts me into a terrible quandary.

If this be the mettle thou art made of, thou had'st better take thy money again, and I'll give thy place