Only for wantonness. By my christendom, 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 He will awake my mercy, which lies dead: Therefore I will be sudden and despatch. 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: 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! 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. Arth. Hub. And will you? 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; Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief? 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! Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, Even in the matter of mine innocence; 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. Come forth. Re-enter Attendants, with cord, irons, &c. Do as I bid you. [Stamps. 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. 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. 1 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. 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, 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. Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes: 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 In undeserv'd extremes: see else yourself; There is no malice in this burning coal; The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends, Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes 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. Hub. Peace; no more. Adieu! Your uncle must not know but you are dead; Arth. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. 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, 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, 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 well, They do confound their skill in covetousness; And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, As patches set upon a little breach 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 Since all and every part of what we would K. John. Some reasons of this double coronation Pem. Then I,-as one that am the tongue of those, To sound the purposes of all their hearts,- Both for myself and them,-but, chief of all, K. John. Let it be so: I do commit his youth Enter HUBERT. Hubert, what news with you? The image of a wicked heinous fault What we so fear'd he had a charge to do. Sal. The colour 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:Good lords, although my will to give is living, The suit which you demand is gone and dead: He tells us Arthur is deceas'd to-night. Sal. Indeed, we fear'd his sickness was past cure. Pem. Indeed, we heard how near his death he was, 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? |