Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect:

Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?

Hub. Young boy, I must.

Arth. And will you?

Hub. 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?
Or, What good love may I perform for you?
Many a poor man's son would have lain 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 pleased 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 >

Hub. I have sworn to do it;

And with hot irons must I burn them out.

Arth. 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'sHub. Come forth.

Enter ATTENDANTS, with Cords, Irons, etc.

[Stamps.

bid you, do.

Arth. O save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes are out, Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.
Arth. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous-rough?
I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.

For heaven's 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.

Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. 1 Attend. I am best pleased to be from such a deed. [Exeunt ATTENDANTS. Arth. 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.

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself.

Arth. Is there no remedy?

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.

Arth. O heaven!-that there were but a mote in yours,

A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,

Any annoyance in that precious sense!

Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there,

Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.

Hub. Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue.
Arth. 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.

Hub. I can heat it, boy.

Arth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with grief, Being create for comfort, to be us'd

In undeserved 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.

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.
Arth. 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 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.

Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes

For all the treasure that thine uncle owns :

Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy,

With this same very iron to burn them out.

Arth. O now you look like Hubert! all this while You were disguised.

Hub. 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.

Arth. O heaven!-I thank you, Hubert.

Hub. Silence; no more: Go closely in with me; Much danger do I undergo for thee.

SHAKESPERE.

BRUTUS AND CASSIUS.-JULIUS CÆSAR.

First Selection.

Cas. Will you go see the order of the course?

Bru. Not I.

Cas. I pray you, do.

Bru. I am not gamesome: I do lack some part

Of that quick spirit that is in Anthony.
Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires;

I'll leave you.

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness, And show of love, as I was wont to have:

You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand
Over your friend that loves you.

Bru. Cassius,

Be not deceived if I have veiled my

I turn the trouble of my countenance
Merely upon myself.-Vexed I am,

look,

Of late, with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviours:
But let not therefore my good friends be grieved;
(Among which number, Cassius, be

you one); Nor construe any further my neglect,

Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war,

Forgets the shows of love to other men.

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion;

By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried
Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations.
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face?
Bru. No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,
But by reflection, by some other things.

Cas. 'Tis just :

And it is very much lamented, Brutus,

That you have no such mirrors as will turn
Your hidden worthiness into your eye,

That you might see your shadow.-I have heard,
Where many of the best respect in Rome,
(Except immortal Cæsar), speaking of Brutus,
And groaning underneath this age's yoke,
Have wished that noble Brutus had his eyes.-

Bru. Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself

For that which is not in me?

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear: And, since you know you cannot see yourself,

So well as by reflection, I, your glass,

Will modestly discover to yourself

That of yourself which you yet know not of.
And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus ;
Were I a common laugher, or did use

To stale with ordinary oaths
To every new protester; If

my love

you know

That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard,
And after scandal them; or if you know
That I profess myself in banqueting
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous.

Bru. What means this shouting? I do fear the people Choose Cæsar for their king.

Cas. Ay, do you fear it?

Then I must think you would not have it so.

Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well :

But wherefore do you hold me here so long?

What is it that you would impart to me?
If it be aught toward the general good,
Set honour in one eye and death i' the other,
And I will look on both indifferently:
For, let the gods so speed me as I love
The name of honour more than I fear death.

Cas. I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus,
As well as I do know your outward favour.
Well, honour, is the subject of my story.-
I cannot tell what you and other men
Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be, as live to be
In awe of such a thing as I myself.
I was born free as Cæsar; so were you;
We both have fed as well; and we can both
Endure the winter's cold as well as he:
For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,
Cæsar said to me, "Dar'st thou, Cassius, now
Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point?"-Upon the word,
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in,

And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did,-
The torrent roar'd; and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews; throwing it aside
And stemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point proposed,
Cæsar cried,
Help me, Cassius, or I sink."

I, as Æneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder

The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber

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