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My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.
Lew. There's nothing in this world can make me
And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste,
Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner?
Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark.
That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins,
Lew. 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.
Lew. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did.
Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old world.
John lays you plots; the times conspire with you:
Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's But hold himself safe in his prisonment.
[life, Pand. O, sir, when he shall hear of your approach,
If that young Arthur be not gone already,
That is, lays plots, which must be serviceable to you.
Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin,
be wrought out of their discontent :
For England go; I will whet on the king.
Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions: Let us If you say, ay, the king will not say no.
SCENE I.-Northampton. A room in the castle.
Enter HUBERT and two Attendants.
Hub. Heat me these irons hot; and, look thou 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 Attend. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed.
Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: look [Exeunt Attendants. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you.
Arth. Good-morrow, Hubert.
Good-morrow, little prince.
Shakspeare has deviated from historical fact in bringing Arthur to England. This young prince was first confined at Faloise, and afterwards at Rouen, in Normandy, where he was put to death.
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.
Mercy on me!
Methinks, no body should be sad but I:
Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son?
[Aside. Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day:
In sooth, I would you were a little sick;
I warrant, I love you more than you
Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom.— Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper.] How now, foolish rheum! [Aside.
Turning dispiteous torture' out of door!
I must be brief; lest resolution drop
Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.-
Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect:
And will you?
And I will.
Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did I knit my handkerchief about your brows, [but ache, (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;
Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief?
So much as frown on you?
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
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron?
And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believ'd him, no, no tongue but
Hub. Come forth.
Re-enter Attendants, with cord, irons, &c.
Do as I bid you do.
Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes are Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. [out Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.