Compulsion, leagued in some mysterious ban
Against one innocent and helpless man,
Abuse their liberty to murder mine:
And sworn to silence, like their masters mute
In heaven, and like them twiring through the mask
Of darkness, answering to all I ask,
Point up to them whose work they execute!
Ros. Ev’n as I thought, some poor unhappy wretch,
By man wrong’d, wretched, unrevenged, as I!
Nay, so much worse than I, as by those chains