« AnteriorContinuar »
And kifs the lips of unacquainted changes
Lewis. Strong reafon makes ftrong actions: let us go; you fay ay, the King will not fay no.
EAT me these irons hot, and, look, thou
Within the arras; when I ftrike my foot
4 Or, as a little fnow.] Bacon, in his hiftory of Henry VII. Speaking of Perkin's march, ob
ferves, that their fnow-ball did not gather as it rolled.
And bind the boy, which you fhall find with me,
Arth. Good morrow, Hubert.
Hub. Good morrow, little prince.
Arth. As little prince (having fo great å title To be more Prince) as may be.-You are fad. Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.
Arth. Mercy on me!
Methinks, no body should be fad but I
Arth. Are you fick, Hubert? you look pale to day;.
In footh, I would, you were a little fick
Hub. His words do take poffeffion of my bosom.
Read here, young Arthur
How now, foolish rheum,
[Shewing a paper.
5 Turning difpiteous torture out of door!
Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for fo foul effect.
Arth. And will you?
Arth. Have you the heart? when your head did
I knit my handkerchief about your brows
And with my hand at midnight held your head;
Saying, what lack you? and where lies your grief?
you ? Many a poor man's fon would have lain ftill, And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; But you at your fick fervice 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 muft ufe 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've fworn to do it;
And with hot irons muft 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 thefe eyes, would drink my tears, And quench its fiery indignation,
Even in the matter of mine innocence :
Are you more stubborn-hard, than hammer'd iron ?
And told me, Hubert fhould put out mine eyes, "I would not have believ'd a tongue, but Hubert's. [Hubert ftamps, and the men enter. Hub. Come forth; do, as I bid you.
Arth. O fave me, Hubert, fave me! my eyes are out, Ev'n with the fierce looks of these bloody men.
Hub. Give me the iron, I fay, and bind him here. Arth. Alas, what need you be fo boilt'rous-rough? I will not ftruggle, I will ftand ftone-still.
For heav'n's fake, Hubert, let me not be bound.
I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
Thruft' but these men away, and I'll forgive you,
61 would not have believed a
tongue BUT HUBERT'S.] Thus Mr. Pope found the line in the old editions. According to this reading, it is fuppofed that Hubert had told him, he would not put out his eyes; for the angel who fays he would, is brought in as contradicting Hubert. Mr. Theobald, by what authority I don't know, reads,
I would not have believ'd him:
no tongue, but Hubert's. which is fpoiling the measure, without much mending the fenfe. Shakespeare, I am perfuaded, wrote, I would not have believ'd a
tongue BATE HUBERT; e. abate, difparage. The blunder feems to have arifen thus, bate fignifies except, faving; fo
the tranfcribers, taking it in this fenfe, fubftituted the more ufual word but in its place. My alteration greatly improves the fenfe, as implying a tenderness of affection for Hubert; the common reading, only an opinion of Hu bert's veracity; whereas the point here was to win upon Hubert's paffions, which could not be better done than by fhewing af fection towards him.
I do not fee why the old reading may not ftand, Mr, Theobald's alteration, as we find, injures the measure, and Dr. Warburton's corrupts the language, and neither can be faid much to mend the fenfe.
Whatever torment you do put me to.
Hub. Go, ftand within; let me alone with him.
Arth. Alas, I then have chid away my friend;
Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself.
Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.
Arth. O heav'n! that there were but a moth in
A grain, a duft, a gnat, a wandring hair,
Then, feeling what small things are boiftrous there, Your vile intent must needs feem horrible.
Hub. Is this your promife? go to, hold your tongue.
Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Muft 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 fpare mine eyes! Though to no use, but still to look on you. Lo, by my troth, the inftrument is cold, And would not harm me.
Hub. I can heat it, boy.
Arth. No, in good footh, the fire is dead with grief, Being create for comfort, to be us'd
In undeferv'd extreams; fee elfe yourself,
The breath of heav'n hath blown its spirit out,