[ ACT IV.]
[Scene I.]—Cherson. Irene's prison.
Irene; then the Gaoler's Child; afterwards Gycia.
Ire. Ah me! The heaviness of prisoned days!
Heigho! 'Tis weary work in prison here.
What though I know no loss but liberty,
Have everything at will—food, service, all
That I should have, being free—yet doth constraint
Poison life at its spring; and if I thought
This woman's jealous humour would endure,