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Then, have I reason to be fond of grief.
Fare
you
well: had

you

such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.
I will not keep this form upon my head,
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O lord ! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son !
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
My widow-comfort, and my sorrow's cure !

[Exit ConstanCE. K. Phil. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.

[Exit King Philip. Lew. There's nothing in this world, can make me

joy :
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ;.
And bitter shame hath spoild the sweet world's taste,
That it yields naught, but shame and bitterness.

Pan. Before the curing of a strong disease,
Even in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest ; evils, that take leave,
On their departure most of all show evil:
What have you lost by losing of this day?

Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.

Pan. If you had won it, certainly you had, John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be, That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, The misplac'd John should entertain an hour, One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest: That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall. "

Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall?

Pan. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claim that Arthur did. Lew. May be, he will not touch

young Arthur's life, But hold himself safe in his prisonment.

Pan. 0, sir, when he shall hear of your approach, If that young Arthur be not gone already, Even at that news he dies: and then the hearts

Of all his people shall revolt from him.
Go with me to the King: 'Tis wonderful,
What may be wrought out of their discontent.
Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions : Let us

go;
If you say, Ay, the King will not say, No.

[Exeunt the CARDINAL and Lewis,

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

England.

A Room in a Castle,

Enter Hubert, with Irons in his Hand, and Two

EXECUTIONERS.

Hub. Heat me these irons hot: and, look thou

stand Within the arras : when I strike

my

foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth; And bind the boy, which you shall find with me :Be heedful :-hence, and watch,

Exec. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not yoų :-look to't.

[Exeunt ExecUTIONERS. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with

you.

Enter ARTHUR. Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. Hub. Good morrow, little Prince.

Arth. As little prince (having so great a title To be more prince,) as may be.—You are sad.

Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.

Arth, Mercy on me !
Methinks, nobody should be sad but I:
Yet, I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my christendom,
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be as merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me:
He is afraid of me, and I of him :
Is it my fault, that I was Geffrey's son?
No, indeed, is't not : And I would to Heaven,
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.

Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead :
Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch.

Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to day: In sooth, I would you were a little sick; That I might sit all night, and watch with you: I warrant, I love you more than you

Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom.Read here, young Arthur. [Gives him a Warrant. How now, foolish rheum! I must be brief; lest resolution drop Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.Can you not read' it? is it not fair writ?

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect: Must you

with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? Hub, Young boy, I must. Arth. And will you? Hub. And I will.

do me.

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Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did

but ache, I knit

my

handkerchief about your brows, (The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) And I did never ask it you again : And with my hand at midnight held your

head;
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time;
Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief?
Or, What good love may I perform for you?
Many a poor man's son would have lain still,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ;
But you at your sick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,
And call it, cunning: Þo, and if you will :
If Heaven be pleas'd that you inust use me ill,
Why, then you must.— Will you put out mine eyes ?
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,
So much as frown on you?

Hub, I have sworn to do it;
And with hot irons must I burn them out.

Arth. And if an angel should have come to me,
And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believ'd him : no tongue, but Hu-

bert's. Hub. Come forth.

[HUBERT stamps, and the EXECUTIONERS

enter with the Irons and Cords. Do as I bid you. Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes are

out, Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.

Arth. Alas, what need you be so boist’rous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For Heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ! Nay, hear me, Hubert! drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb;

I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angerly:
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to.

Hub, Go, stand within ; let me alone with him.
Exec. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed.

[Exeunt ExeCUTIONERS. Arth. Alas! I then have chid

away my

friend!
He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart:-
Let him come back, that his compassion may
Give life to yours.

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself.
Arth. Is there no remedy?
Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.
Arth. O Heaven !that there were but a mote in

yours,
A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,
Any annoyance in that precious sense !
Then, feeling what small things are boisťrous there,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.
Hub. Is this your promise? Go to, hold your

tongue.
Arth. Let me not hold my tongue; let me not,

Hubert!
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,
So I may keep mine eyes; 0, 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.

Hub. I can heat it, boy.
Arth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with

grief;
The breath of Heaven hath blown his spirit out,
And strew'd repentant ashes on his head.

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.

Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush, And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert, Hub. I will not touch thine eyes,

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