So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, Is it my fault, that I was Geffrey's son? [Aside. 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. 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 Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect: [Aside. Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? Arth. And will you? Hub. And I will. Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but ake, 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? If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill, 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, Even in the matter of mine innocence: But for containing fire to harm mine eye. Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, [Stamps. Re-enter Attendants, with cords, 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. 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. 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 wand'ring hair, Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there, Hub. Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue. Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes : Do glew themselves in sociable grief; Const. To England, if you will. K. Phi. Bind up your hairs. Const. Yes, that I will; And wherefore will I do it? I tore them from their bonds; and cried aloud, O that these hands could so redeem my son, As they have given these hairs their liberty! And will again commit them to their bonds, And, father cardinal, I have heard you say, That we shall see and know our friends in heaven: If that be true, I shall see my boy again; For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born. But now will canker sorrow eat my bud, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven I shall not know him: therefore never, never Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. Remembers me of all his gracious parts, [Tearing off her head-dress. When there is such disorder in my wit. O lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son ! My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure! [Exit. K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. [Exit. Lew. There's nothing in this world, can make me joy : Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, Even in the instant of repair and health, Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner? |