Gao. Your death has eyes in's head then: I haue not
seene him so pictur'd: you must either bee directed by
some that take vpon them to know, or to take vpon your
selfe that which I am sure you do not know: or iump the
after-enquiry on your owne perill: and how you shall
speed in your iournies end, I thinke you'l neuer returne
to tell one
Post. I tell thee, Fellow, there are none want eyes, to
direct them the way I am going, but such as winke, and
will not vse them
Gao. What an infinite mocke is this, that a man shold
haue the best vse of eyes, to see the way of blindnesse: I
am sure hanging's the way of winking.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. Knocke off his Manacles, bring your Prisoner to
the King
Post. Thou bring'st good newes, I am call'd to bee
made free