་་ But for containing fire to harm mine eye. Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, [Stamps. Re-enter Attendants, with Cord, 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 boist'rous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, 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 wand'ring hair, Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there, 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; Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. 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 2: Arth. O, now you look like Hubert! all this while Your uncle must not know but you are dead: Arth. O heaven!-I thank you, Hubert. Hub. Silence; no more: Go closely3 in with me; Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt. SCENE II. 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. Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, To guard title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Pem. But that your royal pleasure must be done, This act is as an ancient tale new told; 3 Secretly. 4 Lace. 5 Decorate. And, in the last repeating, troublesome, 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: Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, Pem. When workmen strive to do better than well, They do confound their skill in covetousness Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse; 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 high ness To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd; K. John. Some reasons of this double coronation 6 Desire of excelling. 7 Publish. If, what in rest you have, in right you hold, To your direction. Enter HUBERt. Hubert, what news with you? Pem. This is the man should do the bloody deed; He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine: The image of a wicked heinous fault Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast; And I do fearfully believe, 'tis done, What we so fear'd he had a charge to do. Sal. The colour of the king doth come and go, Between his purpose and his conscience, Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set: His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. Pem. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue thence The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. K. John. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand: Good lords, although my will to give is living, Sal. Indeed, we fear'd, his sickness was past cure. |