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I should be as merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me:
He is afraid of me, and I of him :
Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ?
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 sudden, and dispatch. [ Asile.

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 your :
I warrant, I love you more than you do

Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom.Read here, young Arthur [Shewing 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.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 ake,
I knit
my handkerchief about your brows


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Muhert Mead here young athur

Burg del!


London Printed for J. Bell British Library Sırand June 9th 1786.


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