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Northampton. A Room in the Castle. | |
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Enter HUBERT and Two Attendants. | |
| 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, | 5 |
| And bind the boy which you shall find with me | |
| Fast to the chair: be heedful. Hence, and watch. | |
| First Attend. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. | |
| Hub. Uncleanly scruples! fear not you: look to ’t. [Exeunt Attendants. | |
| Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. | 10 |
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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. | 15 |
| 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, | 20 |
| 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: | 25 |
| 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. [Aside.] If I talk to him with his innocent prate | 30 |
| He will awake my mercy which lies dead: | |
| Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch. | |
| 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: | 35 |
| I warrant I love you more than you do me. | |
| Hub. [Aside.] His words do take possession of my bosom. | |
| Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper. | |
| [Aside.] How now, foolish rheum! | |
| Turning dispiteous torture out of door! | 40 |
| 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? | 45 |
| 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 handkercher about your brows,— | 50 |
| 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, | 55 |
| 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. | 60 |
| Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, | |
| And call it cunning: do an if you will. | |
| If heaven be pleas’d that you must use me ill, | |
| Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes? | |
| These eyes that never did nor never shall | 65 |
| 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, | 70 |
| Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears | |
| And quench this fiery indignation | |
| Even in the matter of mine innocence; | |
| Nay, after that, consume away in rust, | |
| But for containing fire to harm mine eye. | 75 |
| Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer’d iron? | |
| An 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 Hubert’s. | |
| Hub. [Stamps.] Come forth. | 80 |
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Re-enter Attendants, with cord, irons, &c. | |
| Do as I bid you do. | |
| 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. | 85 |
| Arth. Alas! what need you be so boisterous-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; | 90 |
| 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. | 95 |
| First Attend. I am best pleas’d to be from such a deed. [Exeunt Attendants. | |
| 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. | 100 |
| 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 wandering hair, | 105 |
| Any annoyance in that precious sense; | |
| Then feeling what small things are boisterous there, | |
| Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. | |
| Hub. Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue. | |
| Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues | 110 |
| Must 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, | |
| So I may keep mine eyes: O! spare mine eyes, | |
| Though to no use but still to look on you: | 115 |
| 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, | |
| Being create for comfort, to be us’d | 120 |
| In undeserv’d extremes: see else yourself; | |
| There is no malice in this burning coal; | |
| 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. | 125 |
| Arth. An if you do you will but make it blush | |
| And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert: | |
| Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes; | |
| And like a dog that is compell’d to fight, | |
| Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. | 130 |
| All things that you should use to do me wrong | |
| Deny their office: only you do lack | |
| That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends, | |
| Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. | |
| Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes | 135 |
| For all the treasure that thine uncle owes: | |
| Yet am I sworn and I did purpose, boy, | |
| With this same very iron to burn them out. | |
| Arth. O! now you look like Hubert, all this while | |
| You were disguised. | 140 |
| Hub. Peace! no more. Adieu. | |
| Your uncle must not know but you are dead; | |
| I’ll fill these dogged spies with false reports: | |
| And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure, | |
| That Hubert for the wealth of all the world | 145 |
| Will not offend thee. | |
| Arth. O heaven! I thank you, Hubert. | |
| Hub. Silence! no more, go closely in with me: | |
| Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt. | |
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