I should be as merry as the day is long; Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ? [Aside Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day : That I might sit all night, and watch with you: In sooth, I would you were a little sick ; I warrant, I love you more than you do me. Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom.-Read here, young Arthur.-[Showing a paper.]-How now, foolish rheum! Turning dispiteous torture out of door! I must be brief; lest resolution drop Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.- Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect: Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? Hub. Young boy, I must. Arth. Hub. And will you ? And I will. [Aside. 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 for me,) And I did never ask it you again : And with my hand at midnight held your head; Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief? So much as frown on you? Hub. I have sworn 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, though heat red-hot, Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, And quench his fiery indignation, Re-enter Attendants, with cords, irons, &c. Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes are out, Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. [Stamps [Exeunt Attendants. Arth. Alas! I then have chid away my friend; 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 boist'rous there, Hub. Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue. Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes: Hub. I can heat it, boy. Arth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with grief, In undeserv'd extremes: See else yourself; Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron extends, Hub. Well, see to live, I will not touch thine eyes, Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy, Hub. Peace: no more. Adieu. Your uncle must not know but you are dead: Arth. [Exeunt. King John is crowned the second time, in hopes to give assurance, by this double coronation, of his title to the English crown. The Nobles and People are disaffected, and Philip breaks the league, and prepares to invade England. John, alarmed at his position, repents of his conduct towards young Arthur, and accuses his confidant, Hubert, with tempting him to accede to the murder. SCENE II-A Room of State in the Palace. Enter KING JOHN, crowned; PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and other Lords. The KING takes his State. K. John. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd, And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. Pem. This once again, but that your highness pleas'd, Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off; With any long'd-for change, or better state. Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Pem. 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 unseasonable. Sal. In this, the antique and well-noted face Of plain old form is much disfigured; And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about; Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. Pem. When workmen strive to do better than wel', They do confound their skill in covetousness: And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault, Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse; Discredit more in hiding of the fault, Than did the fault before it was so patch'd. Sal. To this effect, before you were new-crown'd, We breath'd our counsel: but it pleas'd your highness To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd; Since all and every part of what we would, Doth make a stand at what your highness will. K.John. Some reasons of this double coronation The enfranchisement of Arthur: whose restraint The steps of wrong,) should move you to mew up you ? To your direction.-Hubert, what news with Sal. The color of the king doth come and go, Pem. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue thence The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. K. John. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand :- He tells us, Arthur is deceas'd to-night. Sal. Indeed, we fear'd his sickness was past cure. Before the child himself felt he was sick: This must be answer'd, either here, or hence. K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? Think you, I bear the shears of destiny? Have I commandment on the pulse of life? Sal. It is apparent foul-play; and 'tis shame, That greatness should so grossly offer it: Pem. Stay yet, lord Salisbury; I'll go with thee, That blood, which ow'd the breadth of all this isle, K. John. They burn in indignation; I repent; [Exeunt Lords |