The king himself will see it done here in this place.
Gronno. Sir, all things are ready, here is the place, here is the hand, here is the sword:
Here lacketh none but Pithias, whose head at a word,
If he were present, I could finely strike off—
You may report that all things are ready.
Eubulus. I go with an heavy heart to report it. Ah woful Pithias!
Full near now is thy misery.
[Exit.
Gronno. I marvel very much, under what constellation
All hangmen are born, for they are hated of all, beloved of none: