ARTHUR.
O, save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes are out
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.
HUBERT.
Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.
ARTHUR.
Alas, what need you be so boist’rous rough?
I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.
For heaven sake, Hubert, 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.
HUBERT.
Go, stand within; let me alone with him.
FIRST ATTENDANT.
I am best pleas’d to be from such a deed.
[Exeunt Attendants.]
ARTHUR.
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.
HUBERT.
Come, boy, prepare yourself.
ARTHUR.
Is there no remedy?
HUBERT.
None, but to lose your eyes.
ARTHUR.
O heaven!—that there were but a mote in yours,
A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,
Any annoyance in that precious sense!
Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.
HUBERT.
Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue.
ARTHUR.
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.
HUBERT.
I can heat it, boy.
ARTHUR.
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;
There is no malice in this burning coal;
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out,
And strew’d repentant ashes on his head.
HUBERT.
But with my breath I can revive it, boy.
ARTHUR.
An if you do, you will but make it blush,
And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert.
Nay, it, perchance will sparkle in your eyes;
And, like a dog that is compell’d to fight,
Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on.
All things that you should use to do me wrong,
Deny their office: only you do lack
That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends,
Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses.
HUBERT.
Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eye
For all the treasure that thine uncle owes:
Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy,
With this same very iron to burn them out.
ARTHUR.
O, now you look like Hubert! all this while
You were disguised.
HUBERT.
Peace; no more. Adieu!
Your uncle must not know but you are dead;
I’ll fill these dogged spies with false reports:
And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee.
ARTHUR.
O heaven! I thank you, Hubert.
HUBERT.
Silence; no more: go closely in with me:
Much danger do I undergo for thee.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE 2.The same. A Room of State in the Palace.
[Enter KING JOHN, crowned, PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and other LORDS.
The KING takes his State.]
KING JOHN.
Here once again we sit, once again crown’d,
And look’d upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.
PEMBROKE.
This once again, but that your highness pleas’d,
Was once superfluous: you were crown’d before,
And that high royalty was ne’er pluck’d off;
The faiths of men ne’er stained with revolt;
Fresh expectation troubled not the land
With any long’d-for change or better state.
SALISBURY.
Therefore, to be possess’d with double pomp,
To guard a title that was rich before,
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.
PEMBROKE.
But that your royal pleasure must be done,
This act is as an ancient tale new told;
And, in the last repeating troublesome,
Being urged at a time unseasonable.
SALISBURY.
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;
Startles and frights consideration;
Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected,
For putting on so new a fashion’d robe.
PEMBROKE.
When workmen strive to do better than well,