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,

Even in the matter of mine innocence:
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,

But for containing fire to harm mine eye.
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron?
An if an angel should have come to me,

And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,

I would not have believed no tongue, but Hubert's.
Hub. Come forth.

(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.
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;
Vay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away,
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb;

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.

1 Attend. I am best pleased 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

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.
Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues
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!
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 used

In undeserved extremes: See else yourself;

There is no malice in this burning coal;
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out,
And strewed repentant ashes on his head.

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.
Arth. And 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 compelled to fight,

Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on.
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
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:
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,
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.

Enter KING JOHN and HUBERT.

[Exeunt.

Hub. My lord, they say, five moons were seen to-night:

Four fixéd; and the fifth did whirl about

The other four, in wondrous motion.

K. John. Five moons?

Hub.

Old men, and beldams, in the streets

Do prophesy upon it dangerously:

Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths:
And when they talk of him, they shake their heads,
And whisper one another in the ear:

And he that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist;
Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action,

With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes.
I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,
With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news;
Who, with his shears and measure in his hand,
Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste
Had falsely thrust upon contráry feet,)
Told of a many thousand warlike French,
That were embatteléd and ranked in Kent:
Another lean unwashed artificer

Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death.

K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears! Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death?

Thy hand hath murdered him: I had mighty cause

To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.

Hub. Had none, my lord! why, did you not provoke me?

K. John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended

By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant

To break within the bloody house of life:

And, on the winking of authority,

To understand a law; to know the meaning

Of dangerous majesty, when perchance, it frowns

More upon humour than advised respect.

Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what I did.

K. John. O, when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth

Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal

Witness against us to damnation!

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds,

Makes deeds ill done! Hadest not thou been by,

A fellow by the hand of nature marked,

Quoted, and signed, to do a deed of shame,
This murder had not come into my mind:
But, taking note of thy abhorred aspéct,

Finding thee fit for bloody villany,

Apt, liable, to be employed in danger,

I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death;
And thou, to be endeared to a king,

Made it no conscience to destroy a prince.

Hub. My lord,

K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a pause, When I spake darkly what I purposéd;

Or turned an eye of doubt upon my face

As bid me tell my tale in express words;

Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off

And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me:
But thou didst understand me by my signs,

And didst in signs again parley with sin;

Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent,

And, consequently, thy rude hand to act

The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name.
Out of my sight, and never see me more!

My nobles leave me; and my state is braved,
Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers:

Nay, in the body of this fleshly land,

This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath,
Hostility and civil tumult reigns

Between my conscience, and my cousin's death.

Hub. Arm you against your other enemies,
I'll make a peace between your soul and you.
Young Arthur is alive: This hand of mine
Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand,

Not painted with the crimson spots of blood.

K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers,

Throw this report on their incenséd rage,

And make them tame to their obedience!

[Exeunt.