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How is he, Gaoler? Has he through the night Had any rest?

Yes, may it please your Highness, He hath slept soundly.

Sound sleep in such a state! Yet, wherefore marvel: He has been used to look death i' the face.

Ay, in the field; but many brave him there Who on a scaffold feel their manhood quail.

Is it so, Gaoler? Thou hast good experience.

Some years ago, two brothers suffered here, For an offence of state; the one a soldier, Stout, brave, and bold in war; the other bred To a quiet life at home; but on the scaffold The man of peace did bear the loftier brow, And beat the hardy vet'ran shamefully.

Strange creatures are we all! and who is known Until his trial comes?—I think, good Carlos, Thou told'st me he conversed with cheerfulness Till a late hour last night.

Yes, good my Liege.