Chapter 116

SCENE IV. Britain. A prison

Enter POSTHUMUS 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. Most welcome, bondage! for thou art a way,
    I think, to liberty. Yet am I better
    Than one that's sick o' th' gout, since he had rather
    Groan so in perpetuity than be cur'd
    By th' sure physician death, who is the key
    T' 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.……