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Bid every soldier dight him for the field:
I've slept too long.

GAOLER.

It is the very hour

At which you did give orders to be waked.

HENRIQUEZ.

Ha! Yes, I understand thee: it is morn,—

The fated morn that brings to me no noon.
Sleep from the tablet of my brain had razed
All present things, and in my waking fancy
Had led me back to what I was so lately.
I thank you. Dawns the light?

FRIAR and GAOLER (both at once).

The morning breaks.

HENRIQUEZ.

Your voices sound like midnight, not like morn.

Welcome, good Father; thou art come, in truth,
To wake me for the fight, and brace my strength,
Not with corporeal arms.

FRIAR.

No, good my Lord;

A nobler armour, for a nobler warfare:
And the Almighty King, whose valiant soldier
Thou wilt this day approve thyself to be,
Will gird thee for the field. Receive from him
His high commission, worthy of a man.