Page 203 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

HUBERT

Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue.

ARTHUR
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, [100]
So I may keep mine eyes: O, spare mine eyes,
Though to no use but still to look on you!
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold

And would not harm me.

HUBERT

I can heat it, boy.

ARTHUR
No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with grief, [105]
Being create for comfort, to be us’d
In undeserv’d extremes; see else yourself:

There is no malice in this burning coal;
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out
And strew’d repentant ashes on his head. [110]

HUBERT
But with my breath I can revive it, boy.

ARTHUR
And 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, [115]
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! [120]