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These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,

And, unburied, remain
Inglorious on the plain !
Give the vengeance due

To the valiant crew!
Behold! how they toss their torches on high ;

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 !
And, like another Helen, fired another Troy!



WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I;
In a cowslip's bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly,

After summer, merrily :
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.



OVER hill, over dale,

Thorough bush, thorough briar,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire.

I do wander every where,

Swifter than the moone's sphere ;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs



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;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to cloath and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak :
The sceptre, learning, physic must
All follow this, and come to dust.

* Looby, lubber.

Fear no more the lightning flash,

Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finish'd joy and moan :
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee !
Nothing ill come near thee !
Quiet consummation have,
And renowned be thy grave!



Enter HUBERT and Executioners.
Hub. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand
Within the arras: when I strike my foot
Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth;
And bind the boy, which you shall find with me,
Fast to the chair : be heedful: hence, and watch.

Exec. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.
Hub. Uncleanly scruples ! Fear not you: look

Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you.

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!
Methinks no body should be sad but I:
Yet, I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom,
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
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 Geoffrey'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 prat
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead;
Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch. [ Aside.

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,

do me.

your head

(The best I had, a princess wrought it me)
And I did never ask it you again :
And with my hand at midnight held

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 you must.-Will you put out mine 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. Ay, 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:
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron ?
And 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.

(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.

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