But you at your sick service had a prince. you If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, So much as frown on you? H. I have sworn to do it, And with hot irons I must burn them out. A. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it! Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, Even in the matter of my innocence: Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? And told me, Hubert should put out thine eyes, I would not have believed him; no tongue but Hubert's, H. Come forth. (Stamps.) Enter Attendants with cords and irons. Do as you are bid. A. Oh, save me, Hubert, save me; my eyes are out H. Give me the irons, 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, H. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. A. Alas! I then have chid away my friend; H. Come, boy, prepare yourself. A. Oh heaven! that there were but a mote in yours, Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there, H. Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue. H. I can heat it, boy. A. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with grief, In undeserved extremes: see else yourself; The breath of Heaven hath blown his spirit out, H. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends,- H. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes For all the treasure that thine uncle owns: Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy, With this same very iron to burn them out. A. O, now you look like Hubert! all this while You were disguised. H. Peace, no more. Adieu. III. Hubert. My lord, they say, five moons were seen to-night: Four fix'd, and the fifth did whirl about The other four, in wondrous motion. H. Old men and beldams in the streets Do prophesy upon it dangerously. Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths: And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist; 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 murder'd him: I had mighty cause H. Had none, my lord! why, did you not provoke me? By slaves that take their humours for a warrant 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 advis'd respect. H. 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! Had'st thou not been by,— A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, Quoted', and sign'd to do a deed of shame,— This murder had not come into my mind: But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect, 1 Quoted, marked out. H. My lord K.John. Had'st thou but shook thy head, or made a pause, When I spake darkly what I purposed; Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, And 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. And didst in signs again parley with sin; The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name. This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Between my conscience and my cousin's death. The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought, Is yet the cover of a fairer mind Than to be butcher of an innocent child. K. John. Doth Arthur live? O haste thee to the peers, Presented thee more hideous than thou art. IV. Enter ARTHUR, on the walls. Arthur. The wall is high; and yet will I leap down : Good ground, be pitiful, and hurt me not! There's few, or none, do know me; if they did, If I get down, and do not break my limbs, [Leaps down. Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones! [Dies. RICHARD II. A room in Ely House. John of Gaunt on a couch, the Duke of York and others standing by him. Gaunt. Will the King come, that I may breathe my last In wholesome counsel to his unstay'd youth? York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath; For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. G. Oh but they say the tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony: Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain; Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose; As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; Y. No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds, Whose manners still our tardy apish nation Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity 1 When the will rebels against the decision of good sense. |