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John hath seiz'd Arthur, and it cannot be
That whilft warm life plays in that infant's veins,
The misplac'd John should entertain an hour,
A minute, nay, one quiet breath, of reft.
A scepter, snatch'd with an unruly hand,
Must be as boist'rously maintain'd, as gain'd.
And he, that stands upon a slipp’ry place,
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.
That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall;
So be it, for it cannot be but so.

Lewis. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall ?

Pand. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claim that Arthur did.

Lewis. And lose it, life and all,- as Arthur did.

Pand. How green you are, and fresh in this old world? John lays you plots; the times conspire with you ; For he, that fteeps his safety in true blood, Shall find but bloody safety and untrue. This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts Of all his people, and freeze their zeal That no lo small advantage shall step forth To check his reign, but they will cherish it. No nat'ral exhalation in the sky, No scape of nature, no diftemper'd day, No common wind, no customed event, But they will pluck away its nat'ral cause, And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, Abortives, and presages, tongues of heav'n Plainly denouncing vengeance upon yolun.

Lewis. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's life; But hold himself safe in his prisonment.

Pand. O Sir, when he mall hear of your approach, If that young Arthur be not gone already, Ev’n at this news he dies : and then the hearts Of all his people shall revolt from him, And kiss the lips of unacquainted change ; And pick itrong matter of revolt and wrath, Out of the bloody fingers’ ends of John. Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot;




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And O, what better matter breeds for you
Than I have namid !-The bastard Faulconbridge
Is now in England, ransacking the church,
Ofending charity. If but twelve French
Were there in arms, they would be as a call
To train ten thousand Englifo to their fide ;
Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon becomes a mountain. Noble Dauphin;
Go with me to the King : 'uis wonderful
What may be wrought out of their discontent.
Now that their souls are top-full of offence,
For England go; I will whet on the King.

Lenvis. Strong reason makes itrong actions : let us go; lí you fay ay, the King will not say no. (Exeunt.

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SEAT me these irons hot, and, look, thou stand Upon the bofom of the ground, rush forth; And bind the boy, which you shall find with me, Fast to the chair: be heedful; hence, and watch.

Exe. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.

Hub. Uncleanly scruples ! fear not you ; look to't.Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you.

Enter Arthur. Arth. 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 fad.

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 fad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom,
So were I out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be merry as the day is long.
And so I would be here, but that, I doubt,
My uncle practises more harm to me.
He is afraid of me, and I of him,


Is it my fault, that I was Geffrey's fon?
Indeed, it is not; and I would to heav'n,
I were your fon, fo you would love me, Hubert.

Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead;
Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch. [ Afide.

Arth. Are you fick, Hubert? you look pale to-day;
In sooth, I wou'd, you were a little fick
That I might fit all night and watch with you.
Alas, I love you more than you do me.

Hub. His words do take poffeffion of my bosom.
Read here, young Arthur

[Shewing a paper. How now, foolish rheum,

[ Afids.
Turning dis-piteous torture out of door !
I must be brief, left 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.

with irons burn out both mine eyes?
Hub. Young boy, 'I must.
Arth. And will you?
Hub. And I will.

Arth. Have you the heart? when your head did butake,
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,
Still and anon chear'd 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 fick service had a Prince.
Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love,
And call it cunning: Do, 'an if you will :
If heav'n be pleas'd that you must use me ill,
Why then, you must-Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,


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So much as frown on you.

Hub. I've 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, tho' heat red hot,
Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears,
And quench its fiery indignation,
Even in the matter of mine innocence :
Nay, after that, confume away in ruft,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.
Are you more stubborn, hard, than hammer'd iron?
Oh! if an angel should have come to me,
And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believ'd him: no tongue, but Hubert's.
Hub. Come forth; do, as I bid you do.

(Stamps, and the men enter. Arth. O save me, Hubert! save me! my eyes are out, Ev’n 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 fo boil'rous-rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heav'n fake, Hubert, let me not be bound. Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away, And I will fit as quiet as a lamb. I will not fir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angrily: Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you


put me to. .Hub. Go, stand within ; let me alone with him. Exe. I am beit pleas’d to be from such a deed. [Exeunt.

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.
Arih. Is there no remedy?
Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.

Arth. O heav'n! that there were but a moth in yours, A grain, a duft, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,

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