Hopeful. Let me go before.
Christian. No. I led you out of the way. If there be any danger, let me be first therein.
Hopeful. Nay, you shall not go first; for your mind being troubled, may bring you out of the way again. But by this time the waters were greatly risen, so that the way was very dangerous. Yet they resolved to go as far as they could. But it was so dark, and the flood so high, that they could not, with all the skill they had, get again to the stile that night. Wherefore, at last they sat down under a tree till day should break; but being weary, they fell asleep. Now there was not far off a castle called Doubting-castle, the owner whereof was giant Despair, who rising early in the morning, and walking out, found Christian and Hopeful asleep in his ground. With a surly voice, he bid them awake, and asked, whence they came, and what they did there? They told him they were pilgrims that had lost their way. Then said the giant, you have trespassed upon my ground, and therefore must go along with me. So he drove them before him into his castle, and cast them into a dark and dismal dungeon, where they sunk in the mire and dirt. And here they lay, without bread, or water, or light, or any to care for, or comfort them.
The next morning the giant came to them again, and beat them in such a manner, that they were scarcely able to help themselves, or to turn themselves upon the floor; then he left them to bewail their misery, and to mourn under their distress: so that all that day they spent their time in nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The day following he returned, and perceiving them to be sore with the blows they had received, he told them, that since they were never likely to escape, their best way was to put an end to their trouble at once. “For what good,” said he, “will life do you? It is only heaping sorrow upon sorrow.” He then left them to consider what to do; and they began consulting together as follows.
Christian. Brother, what shall we do? Is it better to live thus, or to die out of hand? In truth, my soul chuseth strangling rather than life, and the grave is easier for me than this dungeon.
Hopeful. Why, death would be far more welcome to me, than to abide thus for ever. But yet let us consider, our Lord has said, thou shalt do no murder: and if we are forbidden to kill another, much more to kill ourselves: for he that kills another, kills only his body; but he that kills himself, kills both body and soul. Besides, you talk of ease in the grave: but have you forgot the hell whither murderers go? And let us consider again, that all the law is not in the hand of giant Despair. Others, I understand, have been taken by him as well as we; and yet have escaped out of his hands. Who knows but God may strike him with death? Or that sometime he may forget to lock us in? For my part, I am resolved to take heart, and to try the utmost to get from under his hand. However, let us endure awhile. The time of release may come: and if not, whatever God permits, let us not be our own murderers.
Toward evening the giant came again, to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel. But finding them alive, he fell into a grievous rage, and told them, since they would not obey him, it should be far worse with them than if they had never been born.
He went back, and they began to consult again, whether they should take his advice or no? Christian seemed to incline to it again: but Hopeful replied as follows:
“My brother, remembrest thou not, how valiant thou hast been heretofore? Apollyon could not destroy thee, nor all thou didst meet in the valley of the Shadow of Death. What hardships hast thou already gone through? And art thou now nothing but fears? Thou seest I am in the dungeon as well as thou: also the giant has wounded me as much as thee. He hath cut off the bread and water from my mouth too; and I too mourn without the light. However, in our patience let us possess our souls. Who knows how soon a change may come?”
The next morning the giant took them into the castle-yard, and shewed them the bones and sculls with which it was strewed. “These, said he, were once pilgrims as you are, and they trespassed on my ground; and, when I saw fit, I tore them in pieces, as within ten days I will do you, get you down till then into your dungeon.” So he drove them back, and shut them in.