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Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ?

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 cheer'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 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, and if you will:
If Heaven be pleased, that you must use me ill,

Why, then thou 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, tho heat red-hot,

Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears,
And quench his fiery indignation,

Even in the matter of mine innocence:

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 believed him; no tongue but Hubert's.
Hub. Come forth.

Reenter ATTENDANTS with cord, irons, etc.

Do as I bid you do.

[Stamps.

Arth. Oh, 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 Atten. 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; Oh, spare mine eyes;
Tho 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 used

In undeserved extremes: See else yourself;

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:
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 owes :
Yet, I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy,
With this same very iron to burn them out.

Arth. Oh, 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.

[Exeunt.

JULIUS CÆSAR

ACT III, SCENE 2

SCENE: Forum at Rome after murder of Cæsar. Large and excited crowd. Brutus goes into the rostrum to speak.

3 Cit. The noble Brutus is ascended: Silence! Bru. Be patient till the last.

Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause; and be silent, that you may hear: believe me for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no less than his. If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar this is my answer,-Not that I loved Cæsar less, but that I loved Rome

more. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cæsar were dead, to live all free men? As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him: but, as he was ambitious, I slew him: There is tears, for his love; joy, for his fortune; honor, for his valor; and death, for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply. Cit. None, Brutus, none.

[Several speaking at once.

Bru. Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Cæsar, than you should do to Brutus. The question of his death is enrolled in the Capitol: his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offenses enforced, for which he suffered death.

Enter ANTONY and others, with Cæsar's body.

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony, who, tho he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this I depart; That, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.

Cit. Live, Brutus, live! live!

1 Cit.

2 Cit.

Bring him with triumph home unto his house.
Give him a statue with his ancestors.

3 Cit. Let him be Cæsar.

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