_Several Prisoners dispersed in different situations._
_Enter_ Keeper _and_ Haswell _with lights_.
_Keep._ This way, Sir--the prisons this way are more extensive
still--you seem to feel for these unthinking men--but they are a set
of unruly people, whom no severity can make such as they ought to be.
_Has._ And wou'd not gentleness, or mercy, do you think, reclaim them?
_Keep._ That I can't say--we never try those means in this part of the
world--that man yonder, suspected of disaffection, is sentenced to be
here for life, unless his friends can lay down a large sum by way of
penalty, which he finds they cannot do, and he is turned melancholy.
_Has._ [_After a pause._] Who is that? [_To another._
_Keep._ He has been try'd for heading an insurrection, and acquitted.
_Has._ What keeps him here?
_Keep._ Fees due to the Court--a debt contracted while he proved his
innocence.
_Has._ Lead on, my friend--let us go to some other part. [_Putting his
hand to his eyes._
_Keep._ In this ward, we are going to, are the prisoners, who by some
small reserve--some little secreted stock when they arrived--or by
the bounty of some friend who visit them----or suchlike fortunate
circumstance, are in a less dismal place.
_Has._ Lead on.
_Keep._ But stop--put on this cloak, for, before we arrive at the
place I mention, we must pass a damp vault, which to those who are not
used to it--[Haswell _puts on the cloak_]--or will you postpone your
visit?
_Has._ No--go on.
_Keep._ Alas! who wou'd suppose you had been used to see such
places!--you look concerned--vext to see the people suffer--I wonder
you shou'd come, when you seem to think so much about them.
_Has._ Oh! that, that is the very reason. [_Exit, following the Keeper._
[Zedan, _a tawny Indian Prisoner, follows them, stealing
out, as if intent on something_.]
_Two Prisoners walk slowly down the stage._
_1st Pris._ Who is this man?
_2d Pris._ From Britain--I have seen him once before.
_1st Pris._ He looks pale--he has no heart.
_2d Pris._ I believe, a pretty large one.
_Re-enter_ Zedan.
_Zed._ Brother, a word with you. [_To the 1st Prisoner, the other
retires._] As the stranger and our keeper passed by the passage, a
noxious vapour put out the light, and as they groped along I purloined
_this_ from the stranger--[_Shews a pocket-book_] see it contains two
notes will pay our ransom. [_Shewing the notes._
_1st Pris._ A treasure--our certain ransom!
_Zed._ Liberty! our wives, our children, and our friends, will these
papers purchase.
_1st Pris._ What a bribe! our keeper may rejoice too.
_Zed._ And then the pleasure it will be to hear the stranger fret, and
complain for his loss!--O, how my heart loves to see sorrow!--Misery
such as I have known, on men who spurn me--who treat me as if (in my
own Island) I had no friends that loved me--no servants that paid me
honour--no children that revered me--who forget I am a husband--a
father--nay, a _man_.--
_1st Pris._ Conceal your thoughts--conceal your treasure too--or the
Briton's complaint--
_Zed._ Will be in vain--our keeper will conclude the bribe must come
to him, at last--and therefore make no great search for it--here,
in the corner of my belt [_Puts up the pocket-book_] 'twill be
secure--Come this way, and let us indulge our pleasant prospect.
[_They retire, and the scene closes._