That face which erst pleas’d me and mine too much.
First Chorus. See (worthiest king) the hope of all your realm,
Had not his lust to rule prevented all.
Arthur. I see (alas), I see (hide, hide again:
O, spare mine eyes!) a witness of my crimes;
A fearful vision of my former guilt;
A dreadful horror of a future doom,
A present gall of mind. O happy they,
Whose spotless lives attain a dreadless death!
And thou, O hapless boy! O spite of fates!