Indeed it is not; and I would to Heaven

I were your fon, fo you would love me, Hubert.
Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate
He will awake my mercy, which lyes dead;
Therefore I will be fudden, and difpatch. Afide.
Arth. Are you fick, Hubert? you look pale to-day;
In footh, I wou'd you were a little fick,
That I might fit all night and watch with you.
Alas, I love you more than you do me.

Hub. His words do take poffeffion of my bofom. Read here, young Arthur---- [Shewing a paper. [Afide.

How now, foolish rheum,

Turning dif-piteous torture out of door!
I must be brief, left refolution 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.
Muft you with 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
I knit my handkerchief about your brow, [bat ake,
(The best I had, a Princefs wrought it me),
And I did never afk it you again;

And with my hand at midnight held your head;
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheared up the heavy time,
Saying, what lack you? and where lyes your grief?
Or what good love may I perform for you?
Many a poor man's fon would have lain ftill,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you;
But you at your fick fervice had a Prince.
Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,
And call it cunning. Do, an if you will:
If Heaven be pleafed that you must ufe 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've fworn to do it;

And with hot irons must I burn them out.

Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it!
The iron of itself, tho' heat red hot,

Approaching near thefe eyes, would drink my tears,
And quench its fiery indignation,

Even in the matter of mine innocence;
Nay, after that, confume away in ruft,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.
Are you more stubborn, hard, than hammer'd iron?
Oh! if an angel thould have come to me,
And teld me, Hubert fhould put out mine eyes,
I would not have believ'd him? no tongue, but Hu-
Hub. Come forth; do as I bid you do. [bert's.
[Stamps, and the Men enter.
Arth. O fave me, Hubert! fave me! my eyes are

out,

Ev'n with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

Hub. Give me the iron, I fay, and bind him here.
Arth. Alas, what need you be fo boift'rous-rough?
I will not ftruggle, I will ftand ftone-ftill
For Heav'n's fake, Hubert, let me not be bound.
Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away,
And I will fit as quiet as a lamb.

I will not ftir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angrily:

Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to.

Hub. Go, ftand within; let me alone with him.
Exe. I am best pleased to be from fuch a deed.
[Exeunt.
Arth. Alas, I then have chid away my friend:
He hath a ftern look, but a gentle heart;

i

Let him come back, that his compaffion may

Give life to yours.

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself.
Arth. Is there no remedy?

Hub. None, but to lofe your eyes.

[in yours,

Arth. O Heav'n! that there were but a moth

A grain, a duft, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,
Any annoyance in that precious fense;

Then, feeling what fmall things are boift'rous there,
Your vile intent must needs feem horrible.

Hub. Is this your promife? go to, hold your tongue.--

Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Muft needs want pleading for a pair of eyes: Let me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert: Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongué, So I may keep mine eyes. O fpare mine eyes Though to no use, but still to look on you. Lo, by my troth the inftrument is cold, And would not harm me.

Hub. I can heat it, boy.

Arth. No, in good footh, the fire is dead with Being create for comfort, to be us❜d

[grief,

In undeferv'd extremes; fee elfe yourself,
There is no malice in this burning coal;
The breath of Heav'n hath blown its spirit out,
And ftrew'd repentant afhes on its head.

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.
Arth. And if you do, you will but make it bluth,
And glow with fhame of your proceedings, Hubert.
Nay, it perchance will fparkle in your eyes,.
And like a dog, that is compelled to fight,
Snatch at his mafter that doth tarre him on.
All things that you should use to do me wrong,
Deny their office; enly you do lack

That mercy which fierce fire and iron extend,
Creatures of note for mercy-lacking ufes.

Hub. Well, fee to live; I will not touch thine eye,
For all the treasure that thine uncle owns:
Yet am I fworn; and I did purpose, boy,
With this fame very iron to burn them out.

Arth. O, now you look like Hubert. All this while
You were disguised.

Hab. Peace: no more. Adieu,

Your uncle must not know but you are dead..
I'll fill thefe dogged fpies with falfe reports;
And, pretty child, fleep doubtlefs, and fecure,
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,.
Will not offend thee.

Arth. O Heaven! I thank thee, Hubert.

Hub. Silence, no more; go clofely in with me. Much danger do I undergo for thee.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Court of England.

Enter King JOHN, PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and other Lords.

K. John. Here once again we fit, once again crowned,

And looked upon, I hope, with chearful eyes.
Pemb. This once again, but that your Highness
pleased,

Was once fuperfluous; you were crowned before,
And that high royalty was ne'er plucked off,
The faiths of men ne'er ftained with revelt;
Fresh expectation troubled not the land
With any longed-for change, or better state.

Sal. Therefore to be poffeffed with double pomp,
To guard a title that was rich before;
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,

To fmooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light

To feek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wafteful and ridiculous excess.

Pemb. But that your royal pleasure must be done,
This act is as an ancient tale new told,
And in the last repeating troublesome,
Being urged at a time unfeasonable.

Sal. In this the antique and well-noted face
Of plain old form is much disfigured;
And, like a fhifted wind into a fail,

It makes the courfe of thoughts to fetch about;
Startles and frights confideration;

Makes found opinion fick, and truth fufpected,
For putting on fo new a fashioned robe..

Pemb. When workmen strive to do better than well, They do confound their skill in covetoufnefs; (21) And oftentimes excufing of a fault,

Doth make the fault the worfe by the excufe:
As patches, fet upon a little breach,
Difcredit, more in hiding of the fault,

Than did the fault before it was so patch'd.

Sal. To this effect, before you were new-crowned, We breathed our counfel; but it pleafed your HighTo over-bear it; and we're all well pleafed; [nefs Since all and every part of what we would, Must make a stand at what your Highnefs will.

K. John. Some reasons of this double coronation I have poffeffed you with, and think them strong. And more, more ftrong (the leffer is my fear) I fhall endue you with: mean time, but ask

(21) They do confound their skill in covetoufnefs. ;] ie. Not by their avarice, but in an eager emulation, an intense defire of excelling; as in Henry V.

But if it be a fin to covet honour,

I am the most offending foul alive,