Fife. 
     No, pray don’t dream of that!

     Sol. 
     How dared you then set yourself up for our Prince Segismund?

     Fife.
     I set up!—­I like that
     When ’twas yourselves be-siegesmunded me.

     Capt. 
     No matter—­Look!—­The signal from the tower. 
     Prince Segismund!

     Sol. (from the tower). 
     Prince Segismund!

     Capt. 
     All’s well.  Clotaldo safe secured?—­

     Sol. (from the tower). 
     No—­by ill luck,
     Instead of coming in, as we had look’d for,
     He sprang on horse at once, and off at gallop.

     Capt. 
     To Court, no doubt—­a blunder that—­And yet
     Perchance a blunder that may work as well
     As better forethought.  Having no suspicion
     So will he carry none where his not going
     Were of itself suspicious.  But of those
     Within, who side with us?

     Sol. 
     Oh, one and all
     To the last man, persuaded or compell’d.

     Capt. 
     Enough:  whatever be to be retrieved
     No moment to be lost.  For though Clotaldo
     Have no revolt to tell of in the tower,
     The capital will soon awake to ours,
     And the King’s force come blazing after us. 
     Where is the Prince?

     Sol. 
     Within; so fast asleep
     We woke him not ev’n striking off the chain
     We had so cursedly help bind him with,
     Not knowing what we did; but too ashamed
     Not to undo ourselves what we had done.

     Capt. 
     No matter, nor by whosesoever hands,
     Provided done.  Come; we will bring him forth
     Out of that stony darkness here abroad,
     Where air and sunshine sooner shall disperse
     The sleepy fume which they have drugg’d him with.

     (They enter the tower, and thence bring out Segismund asleep on a
     pallet, and set him in the middle of the stage.)

     Capt. 
     Still, still so dead asleep, the very noise
     And motion that we make in carrying him
     Stirs not a leaf in all the living tree.

     Soldiers. 
     If living—­But if by some inward blow
     For ever and irrevocably fell’d
     By what strikes deeper to the root than sleep? 
     —­He’s dead!  He’s dead!  They’ve kill’d him—­
     —­No—­he breathes—­
     And the heart beats—­and now he breathes again
     Deeply, as one about to shake away
     The load of sleep.

     Capt. 
     Come, let us all kneel round,
     And with a blast of warlike instruments,
     And acclamation of all loyal hearts,
     Rouse and restore him to his royal right,
     From which no royal wrong shall drive him more.