Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and two Gaolers
First Gaoler
You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you;
So graze as you find pasture.
Second Gaoler
Ay, or a stomach.
Exeunt Gaolers
POSTHUMUS LEONATUS
Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away,
think, to liberty: yet am I better
Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather
Groan so in perpetuity than be cured
By the sure physician, death, who is the key
To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd
More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me
The penitent instrument to pick that bolt,
Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry?
So children temporal fathers do appease;
Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent?
I cannot do it better than in gyves,
Desired more than constrain'd: to satis
