« ZurückWeiter »
O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven,
I shall not know him ; therefore never, never
John hath seized Arthur; and it cannot be,
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief.
That, whiles warm life plays in that infant’s veins, :
Of all his people shall revolt from him.
Go with me to the King: 'Tis wonderful,
What may be wrought out of their discontent;
[Ezeunt the CARDINAL and LEWIS.
ACT THE FOURTH.
A Room in a Castle.
Enter Hugent, with Irons in his Hand, and Two
Hui. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou
Within the arr
Be heedful:—hence, and watch.
as: when I strike my foot
Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. , Hub. Good morrow, little Prince. o 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 2 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 do me. Hub. His words do take possession of my bosomRead here, young Arthur— [Gives him a harrant. 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.
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: Do, and if you will ; If Heaven be pleased that you must 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 believed him: no tongue, but Hubert'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 1 Nay, hear me, Hubert drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb;