First Jailer. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here:
To this chair bind him.
Essex. Let me not be bound:
Alas, why need you be so boistrous rough?
O I am undone, O I am undone!
Do me no foul play, friend!
First Jailer. Read here, traitor.
Can you not read it? Is it not writ fair?
Essex. How now, foolish rheume;
Must you, with hot irons, burn out both mine eyes?
O Heaven, that there were but a moth 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 intents must needs seem horrible.
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—O men, if you will,
Cut out my tongue, so that I may still keep
Both mine eyes to see.
First Jailer. To see some mischief!
See shall thou never: (fellow, hold the chair:)
Upon these eyes of thine I’ll set my foot!
Essex. He that will think to live till he be old,
Give me some help! O save me,—save me!—help!
(They tear out one of his eyes.)
Oh cruel! Oh God,—O God,—O God! my eyes are out!
Oh, I am slain!
First Jailer. My Lord, you have one eye left!
One side will mock another; th’ other too.
Out, vile jelly! where is thy lustre now?
(They tear out the other eye.)