In short, they tried a whole assortment through,
But all in vain, for none of them would do.
The operator, much surprised to find

So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind!
"What sort of eyes can you have got?" said he.
"Why very good ones, friend, as you may see.”
"Yes, I perceive the clearness of the ball.
Pray let me ask you Can you read at all?

"No! you great blockhead! — If I could, what need
Of paying you for any helps to read?'”
And so he left the maker in a heat,

Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat.

Byrom

BOOK FOURTH.

STANDARD SELECTIONS

OF

DIALOGUES.

H

UB. 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. 1 Att. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you look to it. [Exeunt Attendants.]

Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. [Enter Arth.] Good morrow, Hubert.

Arth.

Hub.

Good morrow, little prince.

Arth. As little prince (having so great a title

To be more prince) as may be.
Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.
Arth.

You are sad.

Mercy on me!

Methinks nobody 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 merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practices 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 despatch. [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 do me.

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.

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,

(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 cheered 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 should use me ill,
Why, then you must. Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,