noon
To the man thou dost hate so bitterly , but wilt not hate any more . Come , Nick , thou wilt not hate me any more . ` Twill not be worth thy while , Nick ; the night is coming fast . '' `` Why , sir , '' said Nick , `` it is not so dark outside -- 't is scarcely noon ; and thou wilt soon be out . '' `` Out ? Ay , on Tyburn Hill , '' said the master-player , quietly . `` I 've spent my whole life for a bit of hempen cord .