Ramah was one of the cities of Benjamin; by metonymy it here means the soldiers of Ramah.

Israfeel:- In heaven a spirit doth dwell

"Whose heart-strings are a lute;"

None sing so wildly well

As the angel Israfel,

And the giddy stars (so legends tell)
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell

Of his voice, all mute.

E. A. POE.

Enter HUBERT and Two Attendants.

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 will find with me
Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch.
First Attend. I hope your warrant will bear out
the deed.

Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: look
to 't.-

[Exeunt N Attendants. 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, 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 as 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 Geoffrey's son?

No, indeed, 'tis not; and I would to heaven

I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. Hub. (aside). If I talk to him, with his innocent

prate

He will awake my mercy, which lies dead:
Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch.

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. (aside). His words do take possession of my

bosom.

Read here, young Arthur.

[Showing a paper.

(Aside.) How now, foolish rheum!
Turning dispiteous torture out of door!
I must be brief; lest resolution drop
Out of mine eyes in tender womanish tears.
Can you not read it? is it not fair writ ?N

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect:

Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? Young boy, I must.

Hub.

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, 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, 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 hammered 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

Hub. Come forth.

Re-enter Attendants, with Cords, Irons, &c.

Do as I bid you do.

[Stamps.

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.
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 angrily:

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

[Exeunt Attendants.

Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. First Attend. I am 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.

Arth. Is there no remedy?

Hub.

Come, boy, prepare yourself.

None, but to lose your eyes.

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.

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,

Being create for comfort, to be used

In undeserv'd 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. And 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 compelled to fight,
Snatch at his master that doth tarreN him on.

All things that you should use to do me wrong

Deny their office: only you do lack

That mercy which fierce fire and iron extend,

Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses.