As soon as he was gone, Jonathan went up stairs to the audience-chamber; and, sitting down, appeared for some time buried in reflection. Kneebone took his leave. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. Now then. “It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. He tells me that you will not even see him. "I have," replied Jonathan. Your disobedience be upon your own head.
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