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 hope100
Will stream along those moted rays of light
Peopled with dusty atoms, which afford