Hub. Giue me the Iron I say, and binde him heere
Art. Alas, what neede you be so boistrous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone still: For heauen sake Hubert let me not be bound: Nay heare me Hubert, driue these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a Lambe. I will not stirre, nor winch, nor speake a word, Nor looke vpon the Iron angerly: Thrust but these men away, and Ile forgiue you, What euer torment you do put me too
Hub. Go stand within: let me alone with him
Exec. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deede
Art. Alas, I then haue chid away my friend, He hath a sterne looke, but a gentle heart: Let him come backe, that his compassion may Giue life to yours
Hub. Come (Boy) prepare your selfe
Art. Is there no remedie? Hub. None, but to lose your eyes
Art. O heauen: that there were but a moth in yours, A graine, a dust, a gnat, a wandering haire, Any annoyance in that precious sense: Then feeling what small things are boysterous there, Your vilde intent must needs seeme horrible
Hub. Is this your promise? Go too, hold your toong
Art. Hubert, the vtterance of a brace of tongues, Must needes want pleading for a paire of eyes: Let me not hold my tongue: let me not Hubert, Or Hubert, if you will cut out my tongue, So I may keepe mine eyes. O spare mine eyes, Though to no vse, but still to looke on you. Loe, by my troth, the Instrument is cold, And would not harme me
Hub. I can heate it, Boy
Art. No, in good sooth: the fire is dead with griefe, Being create for comfort, to be vs'd In vndeserued extreames: See else your selfe, There is no malice in this burning cole, The breath of heauen, hath blowne his spirit out, And strew'd repentant ashes on his head
Hub. But with my breath I can reuiue it Boy
Art. And 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 dogge that is compell'd to fight, Snatch at his Master that doth tarre him on. All things that you should vse to do me wrong Deny their office: onely you do lacke That mercie, which fierce fire, and Iron extends, Creatures of note for mercy, lacking vses
Hub. Well, see to liue: I will not touch thine eye, For all the Treasure that thine Vnckle owes, Yet am I sworne, and I did purpose, Boy, With this same very Iron, to burne them out
Art. O now you looke like Hubert. All this while You were disguis'd
Hub. Peace: no more. Adieu, Your Vnckle must not know but you are dead. Ile fill these dogged Spies with false reports: And, pretty childe, sleepe doubtlesse, and secure, That Hubert for the wealth of all the world, Will not offend thee
Art. O heauen! I thanke you Hubert
Hub. Silence, no more; go closely in with mee, Much danger do I vndergo for thee.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Iohn, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lordes.
Iohn. Heere once againe we sit: once against crown'd And look'd vpon, I hope, with chearefull eyes
Pem. This once again (but that your Highnes pleas'd) Was once superfluous: you were Crown'd before, And that high Royalty was nere pluck'd off: The faiths of men, nere stained with reuolt: Fresh expectation troubled not the Land With any long'd-for-change, or better State