  ‘Tis a pity, for he was a
brave heart--na--na, I mean he hath the _look_ of it!”

The prisoner clasped his hands together with sudden energy, and wrung
them despairingly, at the same time appealing imploringly to the ‘King’
in broken and terrified phrases--

“O my lord the King, an’ thou canst pity the lost, have pity upon me!  I
am innocent--neither hath that wherewith I am charged been more than
but lamely proved--yet I speak not of that; the judgment is gone forth
against me and may not suffer alteration; yet in mine extremity I beg a
boon, for my doom is more than I can bear.