(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 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, an if you will.
If Heaven be pleas'd 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.

45

50

55

Arth. Ah! none, but in this iron age, would do it. 60 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 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,

65

I would not have believ'd him; no tongue but

Hubert's

Hub. Come forth.

70

[Stamps.

Re-enter Attendants, with cords, irons, &c.
Do as I bid you do.

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.

rough?

Arth. Alas! what need you be so boisterous

I will not struggle; I will stand stone-still.

75

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.

80

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.
1 Atten. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed. 85
[Exeunt Attendants.
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.

Arth. Is there no remedy?

Hub.

Come, boy, prepare yourself.

None, but to lose your eyes.

90

Arth. O 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.

95

100

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 with grief, 105 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 has 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
Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes;
And like a dog that is compell'd to fight,
Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on.
All things that you should use to do me wrong
Deny their office; only you do lack

;

110

115

That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends,

Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses.

120

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

For all the treasure that thine uncle owes ;

Yet am I sworn and I did purpose, boy,
With this same very iron to burn them out.

Arth. O,now you look like Hubert! all this while 125

You were disguised.

Peace; no more.

Adieu.

Hub.
Your uncle must not know but you are dead;
I'll fill these doggèd spies with false reports;
And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure,
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee.

130

Arth.
O heaven! I thank
you, Hubert.
Hub. Silence! no more. Go closely in with me ;

Much danger do I undergo for thee.

Christendom uncleanly

[Exeunt.

ACROSS THE DESERT OF GAZA.-I.

The way

In a couple of days I was ready to start. of providing for the passage of the desert is this: there is an agent in the town who keeps himself in communication with some of the Desert Arabs that are hovering within a day's journey of the place; a party of these, upon being guaranteed against seizure or other ill-treatment at the hands of the governor, come into the town, bringing with them the number of camels which you require, and then they stipulate for a certain sum to take you to the place of your destination in a given time.

The agreement thus made by them includes a safeconduct through their country, as well as the hire of the camels. According to the contract made with me, I was to reach Cairo within ten days from the commencement of the journey. I had four camels-one for my baggage, one for each of my servants, and one for myself. Four Arabs, the owners of the camels, came with me on foot.

My stores were a small soldier's tent, two bags of