Part 40 (2/2)

Methinks n.o.body should be sad but _Arth._ Gramercie Hubert for thy I: care of me, Yet, I remember, when I was in In or to whom restraint is newly France, knowen, Young gentlemen would be as sad as The joy of walking is small night, benefit, Only for wantonness. By my Yet will I take thy offer with christendom, small thankes, So I were out of prison and kept I would not loose the pleasure sheep, of the eye. I should be as merry as the day is But tell me curteous Keeper if long; you can, And so I would be here, but that I How long the King will have me doubt tarrie here My uncle practises more harm to me: He is afraid of me and I of him.

_Hub._ I know not Prince, but Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's as I gesse, not long. son?

G.o.d send you freedome, and G.o.d No, indeed, is't not; and I would save the King. to heaven, (_They issue forth._) I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.

_Arth._ Why now sirs, what may _Hub. (Aside.)_ If I talk to him, this outrage meane? with his innocent prate O help me Hubert, gentle Keeper He will awake my mercy, which lies helpe; dead: G.o.d send this sodaine mutinous Therefore I will be sudden, and approach dispatch.

Tend not to reave a wretched guiltless life. _Arth._ Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale today.

_Hub._ So sirs, depart, and In sooth, I would you were a little leave the rest for me. sick; That I might sit all night, and _Arth._ Then Arthur yeeld, watch with you: death frowneth in thy face, I warrant I love you more than you What meaneth this? Good Hubert do me.

plead the case.

_Hub. (Aside.)_ His words do take _Hub._ Patience yong Lord, and possession of my bosom.-- listen words of woe, Read here, young Arthur, Harmful and harsh, h.e.l.ls horror to be heard: (_Showing a paper._) A dismall tale fit for a furies tongue. (_Aside._) How now, foolish rheum!

I faint to tell, deepe sorrow Turning dispiteous torture out of is the sound. door?

I must be brief; lest resolution _Arth._ What, must I die? drop Out at mine eyes in tender womanish _Hub._ No newes of death, but tears.-- tidings of more hate, Can you read it? Is it not fair A wrathfull doome, and most writ?

unluckie fate: Deaths dish were daintie at so _Arth._ Too fairly, Hubert, for so fell a feast, foul effect.

Be deafe, heare not, its h.e.l.l Must you with hot irons burn out to tell the rest. both mine eyes?

_Arth._ Alas, thou wrongst my _Hub._ Young boy, I must.

youth with words of feare, Tis h.e.l.l, tis horror, not for one to heare: What is it man if needes be don, Act it, and end it, that the paine were gon.

_Hub_. I will not chaunt such _Arth_. And will you?

dolour with my tongue, Yet must I act the outrage with _Hub_. And I will.

my hand.

My heart, my head, and all my _Arth_. Have you the heart? When powers beside, your head did but ache, To aide the office have at once I knit my handkerchief about your denide. brows, Peruse this Letter, lines of (The best I had, a princess wrought treble woe, it me,) Reade ore my charge, and pardon And I did never ask it you again: when you know. And with my hand at midnight held your head, Hubert, these are to commaund And, like the watchful minutes to thee, as thou tendrest our quiet the hour, in minde, and the estate of our Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy person, that presently upon the time, receipt of our commaund, thou Saying, What lack you? and, Where put out the eies of Arthur lies your grief?

Plantaginet. Or, What good love may I perform for you?

_Arth_. Ah, monstrous d.a.m.ned Many a poor man's son would have man! his very breath infects the lain still, elements. And ne'er have spoken a loving word Contagious venyme dwelleth in to you; his heart; But you at your sick service had a Effecting meanes to poyson all prince.

the world. Nay you may think my love was Unreverent may I be to blame crafty love, the heavens And call it cunning: do, an if you Of great injustice, that the will.

miscreant If heaven be pleas'd that you will Lives to oppresse the innocents use me ill, with wrong. Why, then you must.--Will you put Ah, Hubert! makes he thee his out mine eyes?

instrument, These eyes that never did, nor To sound the tromp that causeth never shall h.e.l.l triumph? So much as frown on you?

Heaven weepes, the Saints do shed celestiall teares, _Hub_. I have sworn to do it, They feare thy fall, and cyte And with hot irons must I burn them thee with remorse, out.

To knock thy conscience, moving pitie there, _Arth._ Ah! none but in this iron Willing to fence thee from the age would do it.

range of h.e.l.l, The iron of itself, though heat h.e.l.l, Hubert, trust me all the red-hot, plagues of h.e.l.l Approaching near these eyes would Hangs on performance of this drink my tears, d.a.m.ned deede. And quench this fiery indignation, This seale, the warrant of the Even in the matter of mine bodies blisse, innocence: Ensureth Satan chieftaine of Nay, after that, consume away in thy soule: rust, Subscribe not Hubert, give not But for containing fire to harm G.o.ds part away, mine eye.

I speake not only for eyes Are you more stubborn hard than priviledge, hammered iron?

The chiefe exterior that I would An if an angel should have come enjoy: to me, But for they perill, farre And told me Hubert should put out beyond my paine, mine eyes, Thy sweetes soules losse, more I would not have believ'd him; no than my eyes vaine lack: tongue but Hubert's.

A cause internall, and eternall too, _Hub._ Come forth. (_Stamps._) Advise thee Hubert, for the case is hard, _Re-enter Attendants, with Cord, To loose salvation for a Kings Irons, &c._ reward.

Do as I bid you do.

_Hub._ My Lord, a subject dwelling in the land _Arth._ Oh! save me, Hubert, save Is tyed to execute the Kings me! my eyes are out, commaund. Even with the fierce looks of these b.l.o.o.d.y men.

_Arth._ Yet G.o.d commaunds whose power reacheth further, _Hub._ Give me the iron, I say, and That no commaund should stand in bind him here.

force to murther.

_Arth._ Alas! what need you be so boisterous-rough?

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