his compassion may Give life to yours. Come, boy, prepare yourself. Is there no remedy? None, but to lose your eyes. O heaven, that there were but a mote in yours, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, Any annoyance in that precious sense! Then feeling what small things are boisterous there, Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes: Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, Hubert; Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, So I may keep mine eyes: O, spare mine eyes. Though to no use but still to look on you! Lo, by my truth, the instrument is cold And would not harm me. I can heat it, boy. No, in good sooth: the fire is dead with grief, Being create for comfort, to be used In undeserved extremes: see else yourself; There is no malice in this burning coal; The breath of heaven has blown his spirit out And strew'd repentent ashes on his head. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. An if you do, you will but make it blush And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert: Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes; And like a dog that is compell'd to fight, Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. All things that you should use to do me wrong Deny their office: only you do lack That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends, Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eye For all the treasure that thine uncle owes: Yet am I sworn and I did purpose, boy, With this same very iron to burn them out. O, now you look like Hubert! all this while You were disguised. Peace; no more. Adieu. Your uncle must not know but you are dead; I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports: And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure, That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, Will not offend thee. O heaven! I thank you, Hubert. Silence; no more: go closely in with me: Much danger do I undergo for thee. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd, And looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. This 'once again,' but that your highness pleased, Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off,