First Brother

Posthumus
Most welcome, bondage,for thou art a way,
I think, to liberty. Yet am I better
Than one that’s sick o’ th’ gout, since he had rather
Groan so in perpetuity than be cured
By th’ sure physician, Death, who is the key
T’ unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fettered
More than my shanks and wrists.
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