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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?
Hub. Young boy, I must.

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,
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time,

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.
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 will use me ill,
Why, then you must.-Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall

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,
And quench this fiery indignation*,

Even in the matter of mine innocence:

And quench THIS fiery indignation,] Such is the reading of the old copies, unnecessarily altered in modern editions to "his fiery indignation." "This fiery indignation" refers to the iron "heat red-hot" of a line just preceding that was the fiery indignation which was to be quenched.

Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.
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

Hubert's.

Hub. Come forth.

no tongue but

Re-enter Attendants, with Cord, Irons, &c.

Do as I bid you do.

[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. 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 ;

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 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. 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 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,
And strew'd 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 compell'd to fight,
Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on3.
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,

3 that doth TARRE him on.] The expressive word to "tarre" also occurs in "Hamlet," A. ii. sc. 2, and in “Troilus and Cressida,” A. i. sc. 3, exactly in the same sense, that of to proroke or excite; but I do not recollect to have met with it in any other dramatist of the time. It has been derived by Johnson with no great probability from the Greek rapdoow, and by Serenius, in his Dict. Anglo-Suethico-Latinum, from the Saxon tyrian, in which etymology Horne Tooke agrees. In Todd's Dictionary, it is also stated that Wickliffe uses the word in the form of terre, but not in what part of his writings it is found it would seem to have been coined from the imitative sound made in provoking dogs to fight.

VOL. IV.

F

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.

[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,

Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes] In the old "King John," Hubert says,

[blocks in formation]

"Cheer thee, young lord, thou shalt not lose an eye,

Though I should purchase it with loss of life.

I'll to the king, and say his will is done,

And of the languor tell him thou art dead.

Go in with me, for Hubert was not born,

To blind those lamps that nature polish'd so."

once AGAIN crown'd,] Old copies, against. Corrected in the third folio.

Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before,
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off;
The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt;
Fresh expectation troubled not the land,
With any long'd-for change, or better state.

Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp,
To guard a title that was rich before,
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light

To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.

Pem. But that your royal pleasure must be done,
This act is as an ancient tale new told,
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,
Startles and frights consideration,

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

TO GUARD a title that was rich before,] To guard (as we have already seen in "Measure for Measure," "Much Ado about Nothing," and "The Merchant of Venice," Vol. ii. pp. 51. 196. & 498) means generally to ornament, and in that sense it is here used.. It arose out of the protection often afforded by lace, &c. to garments.

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