In short, they tried a whole assortment through, So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind! "No! you great blockhead! — If I could, what need Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat. Byrom H UB. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand 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 Att. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you look to it. [Exeunt Attendants.] Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. [Enter Arth.] Good morrow, Hubert. Arth. Hub. Good morrow, little prince. Arth. As little prince (having so great a title To be more prince) as may be. You are sad. Mercy on me! Methinks nobody should be sad but I: He is afraid of me, and I of him. Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate, That I might sit all night, and watch with you. I warrant, I love you more than you do me. 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. Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? Arth. Hub. And will you? And I will. Arth. 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; Still and anon cheered up the heavy time; Saying, What lack you? and Where lies your grief? If Heaven be pleased that you should use me ill, |