THE TIRED SPIRIT. VEX not his ghost: O, let him pass! he hates him, That would upon the rack of this rough world Stretch him out longer. KING LEAR, A. 5, s. 3. THE TITLE, LORDS, THE TITLE! K. HENRY. Think'st thou, that I will leave Wherein my grandsire, and my father, sat? sorrow, Shall be my winding-sheet.-Why faint you, lords? My title's good, and better far than his. WARWICK. But prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. K. HEN. Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown. YORK. 'Twas by rebellion against his king. K. HEN. I know not what to say; my title's [Aside. weak. Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir? YORK. What then? K. HEN. An if he may, then am I lawful king: For Richard, in the view of many lords, Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth; YORK. He rose against him, being his sovereign, And made him to resign his crown perforce. WAR. Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrain❜d, Think you, 'twere prejudicial to his crown? EXETER. No; for he could not so resign his crown, But that the next heir should succeed and reign. K. HEN. Art thou against us, duke of Exeter? EXE. His is the right, and therefore pardon me. YORK. Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not? EXE. My conscience tells me, he is lawful king. K. HENRY VI., PART III., A. 1, s. 1. THE TRIALS OF HIGH POSITION. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities, And you have found me; for, accordingly, You tread upon my patience: but, be sure, I will from henceforth rather be myself, Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition, Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down, And therefore lost that title of respect, Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see danger The moody frontier of a servant brow. Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. we K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 1, s. 3. THE TRIUMPH OF INNOCENCE. HUBERT. To be more prince,) as may be.-You are sad. ARTH. Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? He will awake my mercy, which lies dead: 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 do me. you HUB. His words do take possession of my bosom.Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper.] How now, foolish rheum! [Aside. Turning dispiteous torture out of door! ARTH. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect: Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? HUB. Young boy, I must. 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, And with my hand at midnight held your head; And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Or, what good love may I perform for you? These eyes, that never did, nor never shall, 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: An if an angel should have come to me, And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, Re-enter Attendants, with cords, irons, &c. 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'rousrough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to. |