And kifs the lips of unacquainted change; you Than I have nam'd!- -The baftard Faulconbridge Lewis. Strong reafon makes strong actions: let us go; [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. Changes to ENGLAND. A PRISON. Enter Hubert and Executioners. HUBERT. EAT me thefe irons hot, and, look, thou HE stand Within the arras; when I ftrike my foot Or, as a little Snow.] Bacon, in his hiftory of Henry VII. fpeaking of Perkin's march, ob ferves, that their fnow-ball did not gather as it rolled. And And bind the boy, which you fhall find with me, Fast to the chair. Be heedful; hence, and watch. Exec. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly fcruples! fear not you ; look to't. Young lad, come forth; I have to fay with you. Enter Arthur. Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. Arth. As little prince (having fo great a title Arth. Mercy on me! Methinks, no body should be fad but Ì; Is it my fault, that I was Geffrey's fon? I were your fon, fo you would love me, Hubert. [Afide. Arth. Are you fick, Hubert? you look pale to day; In footh, I would, 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 How now, foolish rheum, [Shewing a paper. [Afide. Tufa Turning difpiteous torture out of door! Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for fo foul effect. Arth. And will you? Arth. Have you the heart? when your head did but ake, I knit my handkerchief about your brows And with my hand at midnight held your head; So much as frown on you. Hub. I've fworn to do it; And with hot irons muft 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, [s Turning difpiteous torture out of door!] For torture Sir T. Hanmer reads nature, and is VOL. III. followed, I think, without neceffity, by Dr. Warburton. Hh Even Even in the matter of mine innocence : And told me, Hubert fhould put out mine eyes, 6 "I would not have believ'd a tongue, but Hubert's. [Hubert ftamps, and the men enter. Hub. Come forth; do, as I bid you. 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 struggle, I will ftand ftone-still. For heav'n's fake, Hubert, let me not be bound. I will not ftir, nor wince, nor fpeak a word, Thruft but thefe men away, and I'll forgive you, 61 would not have believed a tongue BUT HUBERT'S.] Thus Mr. Pope found the line in the old editions. According to this reading, it is fuppofed that Hubert had told him, he would not put out his eyes; for the angel who fays he would, is brought in as contradicting Hubert. Mr. Theobald, by what authority I don't know, reads, I would not have believ'd kim: no tongue, bus Hubert's. which is spoiling the meafure, without much mending the fenfe. Shakespeare, I am perfuaded, wrote, I would not have believ'd a tongue BATE HUBERT; i. e. abate, difparage. The blunder feems to have arifen thus, bate fignifies except, saving; fo Whatever torment you do put me to. Hub. Go, ftand within; let me alone with him. [Exeunt. Arth. Alas, I then have chid away my friend He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart; 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. Arth. O heav'n! that there were but a moth in A grain, a duft, a gnat, a wandring hair, yours, Then, feeling what small things are boiftrous there, Your vile intent muft 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 tongue, 7 So I may keep mine eyes. O fpare mine eyes! Hub. I can heat it, boy. Arth. No, in good footh, the fire is dead with grief, Being create for comfort, to be us'd In undeferv'd extreams; fee elfe yourself, There is no malice in this burning coal; The breath of heav'n hath blown its fpirit out, 7 This is according to nature. We imagine no evil so great as that which is near us. No, in good footh, &c.] The fenfe is: The fire, being created not to hurt but to comfort, is dead with grief for finding itself ufed in acts of cruelty, which, being innocent, I have not deferved. Hh2 And |