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e is safe. _Jac. Fos._ And liberty? _Mar._ The mind should make its own! _Jac. Fos._ That has a noble sound; but 'tis a sound, A music most impressive, but too transient: The Mind is much, but is not all. The Mind Hath nerved me to endure the risk of death, And torture positive, far worse than death (If death be a deep sleep), without a groan, 90 Or with a cry which rather shamed my judges Than me; but 'tis not all, for there are things More woful--such as this small dungeon, where I may breathe many years. _Mar._ Alas! and this Small dungeon is all that belongs to thee Of this wide realm, of which thy sire is Prince. _Jac. Fos._ That thought would scarcely aid me to endure it. My doom is common; many are in dungeons, But none like mine, so near their father's palace; But then my heart is sometimes high, and hope 100 Will stream along those moted rays of light Peopled with dusty atoms, which afford Our only day; for, save the gaoler's torch, And a strange firefly, which was quickly caught Last night in yon enormous spider's net, I ne'er saw aught here like a ray. Alas! I know if mind may bear us up, or no, For I have such, and shown it before men; It sinks in solitude: my soul is social. _Mar._ I will be with thee. _Jac. Fos._ Ah! if it were so! 110 But _that_ they never granted--nor will grant, And I shall be alone: no men; no books-- Those lying likenesses of lying men. I asked for even those outlines of their kind, Which they term annals, history, what you will, Which men bequeath as portraits, and they were Refused me,--so these walls have been my study, More faithful pictures of Venetian story, With all their blank, or dismal stains, than is The Hall not far from hence, which bears on high 120 Hundreds of Doges, and their deeds and dates. _Mar._ I come to tell thee the result of their Last council on thy doom. _Jac. Fos._ I know it--look! [_He points to his limbs, as referring to the Question which he had undergone_. _Mar._ No--no--no more of that: even they relent From that atrocity. _Jac. Fos._ What then
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