Only for wantonnefs. By my christendom,
So I were out of prifon, and kept sheep,
I should be as merry as the day is long;
And fo I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practifes more harm to me:
He is afraid of me, and I of him :

Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's fon?
No, indeed, is't not; And I would to heaven,
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.-
Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead:
Therefore I will be fudden, and dispatch.

[Afide.

Arth. Are you fick, Hubert? you look pale to-day :

In footh, I would you were a little fick;
That I might fit all night, and watch with you:
I warrant, I love you more than you do me.

Hub. His words do take poffeffion of my bofom.Read here, young Arthur- [Shewing a paper.

How now, foolish rheum!

2

Turning difpiteous torture out of door?

I must be brief; left refolution drop

Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.
Can you not read it? is it not fair writ?

[Afide.

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

Muft you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? Hub. Young boy, I must.

doltish melancholy is the creft of courtiers, and now every bafe companion, &c. fays he is melancholy." Again, in the Life and Death of the Lord Cromwell, 1613:

My nobility is wonderful melancholy.

"Is it not moft gentleman like to be melancholy?"

STEEVENS.

Lilly, in his Mydas, ridicules the affectation of melancholy : "Now every base companion, being in his muble fubles, fays, he is melancholy.-Thou fhould'ft fay thou art lumpih. If thou encroach on our courtly terms, weele trounce thee. FARMER.

2

Turning difpiteous torture out of door?] For torture fir T. Hanmer reads nature, and is followed, I-think, without neceffity, by Dr. Warburton. JOHNSON.

Arth. And will you?

Hub. And I will.

Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but ake,

I knit my handkerchief about your brows,
(The beft I had, a princefs wrought it me)
And I did never afk it you again:

And with my hand at midnight held your head;
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon chear'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 fon would have lain ftill,
And ne'er have fpoke a loving word to you;
But you at your fick fervice 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 muft.-Will you put out mine eyes?
Thefe eyes, that never did, nor never hall,
So much as frown on you?

Hub. I have fworn to do it;

And with hot irons muft 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 thefe eyes, would drink my tears,
And quench this fiery indignation,

Even in the matter of mine innocence:
Nay, after that, confume away in ruft,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.

Are you more ftubborn-hard than hammer'd iron?
An if an angel fhould have come to me,
And told me, Hubert fhould put out mine eyes,
3 I would not have believ'd him; no tongue, but Hu-
bert's. [Hubert ftamps, and the men enter.

Hub.

3 I would not have believed a tongue but Hubert's.] Thus Mr. Pope found the line in the old editions. According to this reading

Hub. Come forth; do as I bid you do.

Arth. O, fave me, Hubert, fave me! my eyes are

out,

Even with the fierce looks of thefe bloody men.

Hub. Give me the iron, I fay, and bind him here.
Arth. Alas, what need you be fo boiftrous-rough?
I will not ftruggle, I will stand stone-itill.
For heaven's fake, Hubert, let me not be bound!
Nay, hear me, Hubert drive thefe men away,
And I will fit as quiet as a lamb;

I will not ftir, nor wince, nor fpeak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angerly:

Thruft but thefe men away, and I'll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to.

Hub. Go, ftand within; let me alone with him.

it is fuppofed that Hubert had told him, he would not put out his eyes; for the angel who fays he would, is brought in as contradicting Hubert. Mr, Theobald, by what authority I don't know,

reads:

I would not have believ'd him: no tongue, but Hubert's. which is fpoiling the measure, without much mending the feufe. Shakespeare, I am perfuaded, wrote:

I would not have believ'd a tongue bate Hubert;

i. e. abate, difparage. The blunder feems to have arifen thus: bate fignifies except, faving; fo the tranfcribers, taking it in this fenfe, fubftituted the more ufual word but in its place. My alteration greatly improves the fenfe, as implying a tenderness of affection for Hubert; the common reading, only an opinion of Hubert's veracity; whereas the point here was to win upon Hubert's paffions, which could not be better done than by fhewing affection towards him. WARBURTON.

I do not fee why the old reading may not ftand. Mr. Theobald's alteration, as we find, injures the meafure, and Dr. Warburton's corrupts the language, and neither can be faid much to mend the fenfe. JOHNSON.

Mr. Theobald's reading is the reading of the old copy. I have therefore restored it.

―rixatur de lana fæpe caprina.

Shakespeare very probably meant the laft line to have been broken off imperfectly; thus:

I would not have believ'd him; no tongue, but Hubert'sThe old reading is, however, fenfe. STEEVENS.

Exec. I am beft pleas'd to be from fuch a deed.
[Exeunt.
Arth. Alas, I then have chid away my friend;
He hath a ftern look, but a gentle heart :-
Let him come back, that his compaffion 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 moth in

yours,

A grain, a duft, a gnat, a wandring hair,

Any annoyance in that precious fenfe!

Then, feeling what fmall things are boiftrous there, Your vile intent muft needs feem horrible.

Hub. Is this your promife? go to, hold your tongue.

Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Muft needs want pleading for a pair of eyes: Let me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert! 4 Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, So I may keep mine eyes; O, fpare mine eyes; Though to no ufe, but ftill to look on you! Lo, by my troth, the inftrument is cold, And would not harm me.

Hub. I can heat it, boy.

Arth. No, in good footh; the fire is dead with grief,

Being create for comfort, to be us'd

In undeferv'd extremes: See else yourself;

4 Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,] This is according to nature. We imagine no evil fo great as that which is near us. JOHNSON.

5 No, in good footh; &c.] The fenfe is: the fire, being created not to hurt, but to comfort, is dead with grief for finding itself. fed in acts of cruelty, which, being innocent, I have not deferved.

JOHNSON.

There

"There is no malice in this burning coal;
The breath of heaven hath blown his fpirit out,
And ftrew'd repentant afhes 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 fhame 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 mafter that doth tarre him on.
All things, that you should ufe 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 ufes.

Hub. Well, fee to live; I will not touch thine eye For all the treafure that thine uncle owes :

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

With this fame very iron to burn them out.

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

Your uncle muft not know but you are dead :
I'll fill thefe dogged fpies with falfe reports.
And, pretty child, fleep doubtlefs, and fecure,
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 clofely in with me; Much danger do I undergo for thee.

[Exeunt.

• There is no malice in this burning coal;] Dr. Gray fays, "that no malice in a burning coal is certainly abfurd, and that we should read:

"There is no malice burning in this coal." STEEVENS,