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These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,
And, unburied, remain
To the valiant crew!
How they point to the Persian abodes,
And glittering temples of their hostile gods ! The princes applaud, with a furious joy; And the king seized a flambeau, with zeal to destroy;
Thaïs led the way,
To light him to his prey !
WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I;
After summer, merrily :
OVER hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough briar,
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the moone's sphere ;
green ; The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours; I must go seek some dew-drops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. Farewell, thou lob* of spirits, I'll be gone ; Our queen, and all our elves, come here anon.
FEAR no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
To thee the reed is as the oak :
* Looby, lubber.
Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Thou hast finish'd joy and moan :
HUBERT AND ARTHUR.
Enter HUBERT and Executioners.
Exec. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.
Enter ARTHUR. Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. Hub. Good morrow, little prince.
Arth. As little prince (having so great a title To be more prince) as may be. You are sad.
Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.
Arth. Mercy on me!
Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prat
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 you : I warrant, I love you more than 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 ? 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 ache, I knit my handkerchief about your brows,
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me)
that never did, nor never shall, So much as frown on you?
Hub. I have sworn to do it;
Arth. Ay, none, but in this iron age, would do it !
(HUBERT stamps, and the men enter. Hub. Come forth; do as I bid you.
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 boisterous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone still.