In short, they tried a whole assortment through, So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind! Pray let me ask you Can you read at all?" "No! you great blockhead! — If I could, what need Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat. Byrom HUB. my foot UB. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand Within the arras; when I strike 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. Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. Mercy on me! Arth. He is afraid of me, and I of him. 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, 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 Dow 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. 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; And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, 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, |