On his two knees, with words full of fond love, the young
Noble knelt[621] with his proud heart and spirit sore wrung,—
And abjectly—God! yes, abjectly[622] sued,—
But your pardon; I feel so deeply imbued
With the sense of this wrong, that the throats I could seize—
A neck in each grasp—and complacently squeeze[623]
Out the life of these two devils, breath after breath,
Till my eager revenge would be stopped but by death.
Well, in spite of his burning entreaties, this pair,
With laughter and blows—ay, what wouldn’t they dare?—