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!

the heart?

Arth. Have you the heart?

did but ache,

When

When your head

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, an' if you will,

If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill
Why, then, you must. Will you put out mine eyes?
These 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. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it! The iron of itself, tho' 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 eyes.
Are you more stubborn hard than hammer'd
iron?

An' if an angel should have come to me,

And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believed no tongue but Hubert's !
Hub. Come forth!

Arth. Oh, 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, why need you be so boisterous rough?
I will not struggle, I will stand stone still.
For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound.
Nay hear me Hubert, drive these men away
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb;

I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angerly;

Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you
Whatever torment you do put me to.

Hub. Go stand within; let me alone with him. 1st. Execu. Tam best pleased to be from such a deed.

Arth. Alas,I then have chid away my friend, He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart;

Let him come back, that his compassion may give

life to yours.

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself!

Arth. Is there no remedy?

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.

Arth. Oh, heaven, that there were but a mote in

yours;

A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,

Any annoyance in that precious sense!

Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there, Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.

Hub. Is this your promise? Go to, hold your

tongue.

Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes. Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, Hubert; Or Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, So I may keep mine eyes. O spare mine eyes: Though to no use, but still to look on you.

Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold, and would not harm me.

Hub. I can heat it, boy.

Arth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead wi' grief, Being create for comfort, to be used

In undeserved extremes; see else yourself.
There is no malice in this burning coal;

The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out,
And strewed repentant ashes on his head.

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. Arth. An' if you do you will but make it blush And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert, All things that you should use to do me wrong, Deny their office; only you do lack

That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends.

Hub Well, see to live. I will not touch thine eyes

For all the treasure that thine uncle owes:

Yet am I sworn, and did purpose, boy

With this same very iron to burn them out.
Arth. O! now you look like Hubert;

All this while, you were disguised.

Hub.

Peace! no more, adieu!

you are dead.

Your uncle must not know but

I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports.
And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure,

That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, will not offend thee.

Arth. O heaven! I thank you, Hubert!

Hub. Peace: no more: go closely in with me. Much danger do I undergo for thee.

"KING JOHN. "

SHAKESPEARE.

RIP VAN WINKLE IN THE MOUNTAINS.

From "RIP VAN WINKLE as played by JOSEPH JEFFERSON." Permission by DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, NEW YORK.

Schneider! Schneider! What's the matter with Schneider? Something must have scared that dog. There he goes head over heels down the hill. Well, here I am again-another night in the mountains! Heigho! these old trees begin to know me, I reckon.

How are you, old fellows? Well, I like the trees, they keep me from the wind and the rain, and they never blow me up; and when I lay me down on the broad of my back, they seem to bow their heads to me, an' say: Go to sleep, Rip, go to sleep.

My, what a flash that was! Old Hendrick Hudson 's lighting his pipe in the mountains to-night; now, we 'll hear him roll the big balls along.

Well, -no-Schneider! No; whatever it is it's on two legs. Why, what a funny thing is that a coming up the hill? I thought nobody but me ever come nigh this place.

(Enter dwarf.) Sit down, and make yourself comfortable. What? What's the matter? Ain't ye goin' to speak to a feller? I don't want to speak to you, then. Who you think you was, that I want to speak to you, any more

than you want to speak to me; you hear what I say?

Donner an' Blitzen! What for a man is das? I have been walking over these mountains ever since I was a boy, an' I never saw a queer-looking codger like that before. He must be an old sea-snake, I reckon.

Well, why don't you say so, den? like me to help you up with that keg? Well sir, I don't do it.

You mean you would

No; there's no good you speakin' like that. I never seed you before, did I?

I don't want to see you again, needer. What have you got in that keg, schnapps?

I don't believe you.

Well, I'll help you. Go 'long pick up my gun, there and I'll follow you mit that keg on my shoulder. I'll follow you, old broadchops.

I say, old gentleman, I never was so high up in the moun. tains before. Look down into the valley there; it seems more as a mile. I- (Goblins appear one after another. ) You're another feller!

You're that other chap's brother?

You're another brother?

You're his old gran'father?

Donner and Blitzen! here's the whole family; I'm a dead man to a certainty.

My, my, I suppose they're speakin'about me!

No good shootin' at 'em;

My, my, I don't like that

family's too big for one gun.

kind of people at all! No, sir! I don't like any sech kind. I like that old gran'father worse than any of them.

How you was, old gentleman? I didn't mean to intrude on you, did I? What?

I'll tell you how it was; I met one of your gran'children, I don't know which is the one