358
HENRIQUEZ: A TRAGEDY.
Like a tired hunter after toilsome chace.
Call to him, friend, I cannot.
GAOLER.
Awake, my Lord!—He is in heavy sleep,
Like the dull rest of death, which hath no ear.
FRIAR.
It is a woful service to awake him.
How goes the time? Might he still sleep awhile?
GAOLER.
To call him up.
FRIAR.
GAOLER (touching him gently).
He moves him now: the sound is in his ears;
The light annoys his eyes. Awake, my Lord.
(Touching him again.)
HENRIQUEZ (raising his head).
GAOLER.
HENRIQUEZ (starting from his couch).