ARTHUR. 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 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 lyen 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?.

Have You the Heart When Your Head Did but Ache

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1381
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