GAOLER.
Your death has eyes in’s head, then; I have not seen him so pictur’d. You must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or to take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after-inquiry on your own peril. And how you shall speed in your journey’s end, I think you’ll never return to tell one.
POSTHUMUS.
I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and will not use them.
GAOLER.
What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging’s the way of winking.
Enter a Messenger.
MESSENGER.
Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the King.
POSTHUMUS.
Thou bring’st good news: I am call’d to be made free.
GAOLER.
I’ll be hang’d then.
POSTHUMUS.
Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead.
[Exeunt Posthumus and Messenger.]
GAOLER.
Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman; and there be some of them too that die against their wills; so should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good. O, there were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in’t.