HUBERT AND ARTHUR

King John of England reigned from 1199 to 1216. He was an unscrupulous ruler who fought with the people, with the barons, and even with Pope Innocent III. He became so obstinate and self-willed that the Holy Father was compelled to excommunicate and to depose him. This brought him to his senses. Then it was that the barons rose against King John and his arbitrary government, and, sustained by the new Archbishop, Stephen Langton, wrested from him the great Charter of Liberty in 1215 (Magna Charta), the most important document in English history.

There are few passages in the plays of Shakespeare more interesting to children than the touching scene between Hubert and Arthur, taken from the fourth act of King John. Arthur is a mere boy endowed with the charming virtues of youth. Being of royal blood, he is a thorn in the side of King John. To remove this aspirant to the throne, the chamberlain of the king, Hubert, is commanded to burn out the eyes of Arthur with a hot poker. Though he tries several times to perform this outrageous act, the gentle pleadings of Arthur cannot help touching his stony heart. As a consequence, the foul deed does not take place.

Enter HUBERT and two ATTENDANTS.

HUBERT. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand

Within the arras: when I strike my foot

Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth,

And bind the boy which you shall find with me
Fast to the chair: be heedful. Hence, and watch.

1 ATTENDANT. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.

HUB. Uncleanly scruples: fear not you: look to 't.

(Exeunt attendants.)

Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you.

Enter ARTHUR.

ARTHUR. Good morrow, Hubert.

HUB.

Good morrow, little prince.

ARTH. As little prince - having so great a title To be more prince as may be. You are sad. HUB. Indeed, I have been merrier.

ARTH.

Mercy on me,

Methinks nobody should be sad but I:
Yet I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my christendom,
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be as merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practices more harm to me:
He is afraid of me, and I of him.

Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son?

No, indeed, it's not; and I would to heaven

I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.

HUB. (Aside.) If I talk to him, with his innocent

prate

He will awake my mercy, which lies dead:
Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch.

ARTH. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale today.

In sooth, I would you were a little sick,

That I might sit all night and watch with you:

I warrant, I love you more than you do me.

HUB. (Aside.) His words do take possession of

my bosom.

Read here, young Arthur.

(Showing a paper.)

(Aside.) How now, foolish rheum,

Turning dispiteous torture out of door!

I must be brief, lest resolution drop
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,

L

Still and anon cheered 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, and if you will.

If heaven be pleased 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 his fiery indignation

Even in the matter of mine innocence;

Nay, after that, consume away in rust

But for containing fire to harm mine eyes.

Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron?
And if an angel should have come to me

And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,

I would not have believed him; no tongue but Hubert's.

HUB. Come forth.

(Stamps.)

Re-enter attendants, with cords, irons, etc.

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 boisterous rough?

I will not struggle; I will stand stone-still.

For heaven's sake, 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 ATTEN.

I am best pleased 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.

ARTH. Is there no remedy?

HUB.

Come, boy, prepare yourself.

None but to lose your eyes.

ARTH. O heaven, that there were but a mote in

yours,