Thou wilt never mock me more!" "In part!" groaned Mompesson.

"Is not thy vengeance fully satiated?
What more wouldst thou have ?" "What more ?" echoed the other, with the laugh of a demon,--"for every day of anguish thou gavest my brother in his dungeon in the Fleet I would have a month--a year, I would not have thee perish too soon, and therefore thou shalt be better cared for than he was.

But thou shalt never escape--never! and at the last I will be by thy side." It would almost seem as if that moment were come, for, as the words were uttered, Mompesson fainted from loss of blood and intensity of pain, and in this state he was placed upon a hurdle tied to a horse's heels, and conveyed back to the Fleet.
As threatened, he was doomed to long and solitary imprisonment, and the only person, beside the jailer, admitted to his cell, was his unrelenting foe.

A steel mirror was hung up in his dungeon, so that he might see to what extent his features had been disfigured.
In this way three years rolled by--years of uninterrupted happiness to Sir Jocelyn and Lady Mounchensey, as well as to Master Richard Taverner and his dame; but of increasing gloom to the captive in his solitary cell in the Fleet.

Of late, he had become so fierce and unmanageable that he had to be chained to the wall.