READ STUDY GUIDE: Act IV, Scenes i-ii |
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Act IV, Scene i:
Northampton. A Room in the Castle.
Northampton. A Room in the Castle.
| [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. |
| FIRST ATTENDANT: |
| I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. |
| HUBERT: |
| 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. |
| HUBERT: |
| Good morrow, little prince. |
| ARTHUR: |
| As little prince, having so great a tide |
| To be more prince, as may be.—You are sad. |
| HUBERT: |
| Indeed I have been merrier. |
| ARTHUR: |
| Mercy on me! |
| Methinks no body 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 practises 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, is't not; and I would to heaven |
| I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. |
| HUBERT: |
| [Aside.] If I talk to him, with his innocent prate |
| He will awake my mercy, which lies dead: |
| Therefore I will be sudden and despatch. |
| ARTHUR: |
| Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day: |
| 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. |
| HUBERT: |
| [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? |
| ARTHUR: |
| Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect. |
| Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? |
| HUBERT: |
| Young boy, I must. |
| ARTHUR: |
| And will you? |
| HUBERT: |
| And I will. |
| ARTHUR: |
| 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, |
| Still and anon cheer'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 lien 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, an if you will: |
| If heaven 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 |
| So much as frown on you? |
| HUBERT: |
| I have sworn to do it! |
| And with hot irons must I burn them out. |
| ARTHUR: |
| 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 eye. |
| Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? |
| An 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. |
| HUBERT: |
| [Stamps.] Come forth. |
| [Re-enter Attendants, with cords, irons, &c.] |
| Do as I bid you do. |
| 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.] |
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