Arth. Are you fick, Hurbert? you look pale to Day; Infooth I would you were a little fick, That I might fit all Night and watch with I warrant I love you more than you do me. you. Hub. His Words do take Poffeffion of my Bofom. Read here, young Arthur. How now foolish Rheume? Turning difpitious Torture out of Door? I must be brief, left Refolution drop Out at mine Eyes in tender Womanish Tears, Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for fo foul Effect. Muft 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 Princefs 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 lyes your Grief? Hub. I have fworn 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 thefe Eyes, would drink my Tears, Even in the Matter of mine Innocence; But But for containing Fire to harm mine Eye. I would not have believ'd him; no Tongue but Hubert's. Arth. O fave me, Hubert, fave me; my Eyes are out Even with the fierce Locks of thefe bloody Men. Hub. Give me the Iron, I fay, and bind him here. Arth. Alas, what need you be fo boisterous rough? I will not ftruggle, I will ftand ftone-ftill. • For Heav'n fake, Hubert, let me not be bound; I will not ftir, nor wince, nor fpeak a Word, Thruft but these Men away and I'll forgive you, Hub. Go, ftand within; let me alone with him. Hub. Come, Boy, prepare your felf. Arth. Is there no Remedy? Hub. None, but to lofe your Eyes. Arth. O Heav'n, that there were but a Moth in yours, A Grain, a Duft, a Gnat, a wandring Hair, Any Annoyance in that precious Sense; Then feeling what fmall things are boisterous there, Your vile Intent muft needs feem horrible. Hub. Is this your promife? Go too, hold your Tongue. Arth. Hubert, the Utterance of a brace of Tongues, Muft 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 fpare mine Eyes, Though to no ufe, but ftill to look on you. Lo, by my troth, the Inftrument is cold, And would not harm me. Hub. Hub. I can heat it, Boy. Arth. No, in good footh, the Fire is dead with Grief. Being create for Comfort, to be us'd In undeferv'd Extreams; fee else your self, Hub. But with my Breath I can revive it, Boy. That Mercy which fierce Fire, and Iron extends, Hub. Well, fee to live; I will not touch thine Eye You were disguis'd. All this while Hub. Peace: No more. Adieu, Arth. O Heav'n! I thank you, Hubert. Hub. Silence, no more; go clofely in with me. Much Danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt. Enter John, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lords. K. John. Here once again we fit, once again crown'd, And look'd upon, I hope, with chearful Eyes. Pemb. This once again, but that your Highness pleas'd,' Was once fuperfluous; you were crown'd before, And And that high Royalty was ne'er pluck'd off: To gild refined Gold, to paint the Lilly, To smooth the Ice, or add another Hew Pemb. But that your royal Pleasure must be done, This Act is as an ancient Tale new told, And in the laft repeating troublesome, Being urged at a time unfeafonable.. Sal. In this the antick and well noted Face It makes the courfe of Thoughts to fetch about, Makes found Opinion fick, and Truth fufpected, For putting on fo new a fashion'd Robe. Pemb. When Workmen ftrive to do better than well, They do confound their, Skill in Covetousness, And oftentimes excufing of a Fault, Doth make the Fault the worfe by the Excufe: As Patches fet upon a little Breach, Difcredit more in hiding of the Fault, Than did the Fault before it was fo patch'd. Sal. To this Effe&t, before you were new crown'd, We breath'd our Counfel; but it pleas'd your Highness To over-bear it, and we are all well pleas'd, Since all, and every part of what we would Doth make a ftand, at what your Highness will. K. John. Some Reasons of this double Coronation I have poffeft you with, and think them strong. And more, more ftrong, then lefs is my Fear I fhall endue you with: Mean time, but ask What you would have reform'd, that is not well, And well fhall you perceive, how willingly I will both hear and grant you your Requefts. Both for my felf, and them; but chief of all, K. John. Let it be fo: I do commit his Youth The Image of a wicked heinous Fault Lives in his Eye; that clofe Afpect of his, What we fo fear'd he had a Charge to do. Sal. The Colour of the King doth come and go, Like Heralds 'twixt two dreadful Battels fet: Pemb. And when it breaks, I fear will iffue thence K. John. We cannot hold Mortality's ftrong Hand. Sal. |