Because I would not see thy cruel nails
Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister
In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up,
And quench'd the stelled fires; yet, poor old heart,
He holp the heavens to rain.
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time,
Thou shouldst have said, 'Good porter, turn the key.'
All cruels else subscrib'd:--but I shall see
The winged vengeance overtake such children.

Corn.
See't shalt thou never.--Fellows, hold the chair.
Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot.

[Gloster is held down in his chair, while Cornwall plucks out one
of his eyes and sets his foot on it.]

Glou.
He that will think to live till he be old,
Give me some help!--O cruel!--O ye gods!

Reg.
One side will mock another; the other too!

Corn.
If you see vengeance,--

First Serv.