Arthur. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heav'n's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb: I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angrily: Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to. Hubert. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. Executioner. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed. [Exit.] Arthur. Alas, I then have chid away my friend. He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart; Let him come back, that his compassion may Give life to yours. Hubert. Come, boy, prepare yourself. Arthur. Is there no remedy? Hubert. None, but to lose your eyes. Arthur. O heav'n! that there were but a mote in yours, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair, Any annoyance in that precious sense! Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there, Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. Hubert. Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue. Arthur. 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 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. 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 heav'n hath blown its spirit out, And strew'd repentant ashes on its head. Hubert. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. Arthur. All things that you shall use to do me wrong, Deny their office, only you do lack That mercy which fierce fire and iron extend, Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. Hubert. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes For all the treasure that thine uncle owns: Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy, With this same very iron to bum them out. Arthur. O, now you look like Hubert. All this while You were disguised. Hubert. 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. Arthur. O heav'n! I thank you, Hubert. Hubert. Silence, no more; go closely in with me; Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt.] His death afterwards, when he throws himself from his prison-walls, excites the utmost pity for his innocence and friendless situation, and well justifies the exaggerated denunciations of Falconbridge to Hubert whom he suspects wrongfully of the deed.