But not a word to any of your covent. 135 FRIAR JACOMO. I warrant thee, Barabas.           [Exit.]       BARABAS. So, now the fear is past, and I am safe; For he that shriv'd her is within my house:      What, if I murder'd him ere Jacomo comes? Now I have such a plot for both their lives, As never Jew nor Christian knew the like:      One turn'd my daughter, therefore he shall die; The other knows enough to have my life, Therefore 'tis not requisite he should live. 136 But are not both these wise men, to suppose That I will leave my house, my goods, and all, To fast and be well whipt? I'll none of that. Now, Friar Barnardine, I come to you:      I'll feast you, lodge you, give you fair 137 words, And, after that, I and my trusty Turk—      No more, but so:  it must and shall be done. 138 Enter ITHAMORE. Ithamore, tell me, is the friar asleep? ITHAMORE. Yes; and I know not what the reason is, Do what I can, he will not strip himself, Nor go to bed, but sleeps in his own clothes:      I fear me he mistrusts what we intend. BARABAS. No; 'tis an order which the friars use:      Yet, if he knew our meanings, could he scape? ITHAMORE. No, none can hear him, cry he ne'er so loud. BARABAS. Why, true; therefore did I place him there:      The other chambers open towards the street. ITHAMORE. You loiter, master; wherefore stay we thus? O, how I long to see him shake his heels! BARABAS. Come on, sirrah:      Off with your girdle; make a handsome noose.—           [ITHAMORE takes off his girdle, and ties a noose on it.]      Friar, awake! 139           [They put the noose round the FRIAR'S neck.]       FRIAR BARNARDINE. What, do you mean to strangle me? ITHAMORE. Yes, 'cause you use to confess. BARABAS. Blame not us, but the proverb,—Confess and be hanged.—Pull hard. FRIAR BARNARDINE. What, will you have 140 my life? BARABAS. Pull hard, I say.—You would have had my goods. ITHAMORE. Ay, and our lives too:—therefore pull amain.           [They strangle the FRIAR.]      'Tis neatly done, sir; here's no print at all. BARABAS. Then is it as it should be. Take him up. ITHAMORE. Nay, master, be ruled by me a little.  [Takes the body, sets it upright against the wall, and puts a staff in its hand.]      So, let him lean upon his staff; excellent! he stands as if he were begging of bacon. BARABAS. Who would not think but that this friar liv'd? What time o' night is't now, sweet Ithamore? ITHAMORE. Towards one. 141 BARABAS. Then will not Jacomo be long from hence.           [Exeunt.]            Enter FRIAR JACOMO. 142 FRIAR JACOMO. This is the hour wherein I 

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