GLOUCESTER Because I would not see thy cruel nails Pluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sister In his anointed65 flesh stick boarish fangs. The sea, with such a storm as his bare head In hell-black night endured, would have buoyed67 up And quenched the stellèd68 fires: Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain69. If wolves had at thy gate howled that stern70 time, Thou shouldst have said ‘Good porter, turn the key71.’ All cruels else subscribe72: but I shall see The wingèd vengeance73 overtake such children.
