HARD. Let me alone, man, can't you?

BURGOYNE (with extreme urbanity). I think, Mr. Brudenell, that as the
usual professional observations seem to strike Mr. Dudgeon as
incongruous under the circumstances, you had better omit them
until--er--until Mr. Dudgeon can no longer be inconvenienced by them.
(Brudenell, with a shrug, shuts his book and retires behind the
gallows.) YOU seem in a hurry, Mr. Dudgeon.

RICHARD (with the horror of death upon him). Do you think this is a
pleasant sort of thing to be kept waiting for? You've made up your mind
to commit murder: well, do it and have done with it.

BURGOYNE. Mr. Dudgeon: we are only doing this--

RICHARD. Because you're paid to do it.

SWINDON. You insolent-- (He swallows his rage.)

BURGOYNE (with much charm of manner). Ah, I am really sorry that you
should think that, Mr. Dudgeon. If you knew what my commission cost me,
and what my pay is, you would think better of me. I should be glad to
part from you on friendly terms.

RICHARD. Hark ye, General Burgoyne. If you think that I like being
hanged, you're mistaken. I don't like it; and I don't mean to pretend
that I do. And if you think I'm obliged to you for hanging me in a
gentlemanly way, you're wrong there too. I take the whole business in
devilish bad part; and the only satisfaction I have in it is that
you'll feel a good deal meaner than I'll look when it's over. (He turns
away, and is striding to the cart when Judith advances and interposes
with her arms stretched out to him. Richard, feeling that a very little
will upset his self-possession, shrinks from her, crying) What are you
doing here? This is no place for you. (She makes a gesture as if to
touch him. He recoils impatiently.) No: go away, go away; you'll
unnerve me. Take her away, will you?

JUDITH. Won't you bid me good-bye?

RICHARD (allowing her to take his hand). Oh good-bye, good-bye. Now
go--go--quickly. (She clings to his hand--will not be put off with so
cold a last farewell--at last, as he tries to disengage himself, throws
herself on his breast in agony.)

SWINDON (angrily to the sergeant, who, alarmed at Judith's movement,
has come from the back of the square to pull her back, and stopped
irresolutely on finding that he is too late). How is this? Why is she
inside the lines?

SERGEANT (guiltily). I dunno, sir. She's that artful can't keep her
away.

BURGOYNE. You were bribed.

SERGEANT (protesting). No, Sir--

SWINDON (severely).