Could I come near your beauty with my nails,

I'd set my ten commandments in your face.

Peter, the unjust apprentice, accuses his master of treason, out of spite the trial of combat is arranged to take place between them in a month. Peter says

Alas! my lord, I cannot fight; for spite of man prevaileth against me.

God's sake pity my case! the
O Lord, have mercy upon me!

I shall never be able to fight a blow. O Lord, my heart!

The scene changes to the incantation in the presence of the Duchess. The spirits are spoken to under the ground; one of them, Asmath, appears, who is conjured by the 'Eternal God' to answer what they shall ask. He accordingly delivers a string of prophecies which prove true. One of them predicts death to York, who says

These oracles are hardily attain'd,

And hardly understood.

Not to speak of the resemblance to a similar scene in holy writ, this incantation, as well as that of Joan of Arc, and the introduction of spirits, miracles, trials by combat, which follow one another in these plays, often not at all necessary to the plot, show that the writer (if these were his earliest plays) began in a very matter-of-fact way his discountenance of supernaturalism. Afterwards, when he introduced these things as the machinery of his plays, he with a more refined aim exposed the same delusion; numerous evidences of which may be seen in Macbeth and Hamlet, in the speech of Theseus in Midsummer Night's Dream, in Lear, and All's Well That Ends Well.

The King, the Queen, Gloster, Cardinal, and Suffolk, are out hawking near St. Alban's, when the following conversation takes place between them. The pious Henry analogically remarks, on Gloster's falcon rising above the rest

See how God in all his creatures works!

Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.
Suffolk. No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My lord protector's hawks do tow'r so well;
They know their master loves to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.

Gloster. My lord, 't is but a base ignoble mind

That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

Cardinal. I thought as much. He'd be above the clouds.
Glo. Ay, my lord cardinal, how think you by that?
Were it not good your grace could fly to heav'n?

K. Henry. The treasury of everlasting joy!

Surely such sentiments put into the mouth of the pious king, are meant to be as ironical as the expressions of the rest are said in contempt.

On the Cardinal saying that Gloster's treasure is on earth, the Protector and he quarrel, and appoint a place of meeting to fight. The Queen takes part against Gloster, and Henry

says

I pry'thee peace,

Good Queen; and whet not on these furious peers,
For blessed are the peace-makers on earth.

Cardinal. Let me be blessed for the peace I make,
Against this proud protector, with my sword.

Here are introduced the words of Jesus in the sermon on the mount, and a priest is made to scoff at them. Gloster says

Now, by God's mother, priest, I'll shave your crown for this.
The Cardinal answers in Latin :-

Physician, cure thyself.

There was a conspiracy against Gloster, meant to break out on the occasion of this hawking party: the Cardinal hints at it in this quarrel with Gloster, and one would suppose it would have immediately been put in action. Instead of this a miracle scene is introduced, and the apprehension of Gloster for high treason comes immediately after. First enters one, crying, 'a miracle!'

Gloster. What means this noise?

Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?

One. A miracle! a miracle!

Suffolk. Come to the king, and tell him what miracle.
One. Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban's shrine,
Within this half hour, hath receiv'd his sight;

A man that ne'er saw in his life before.

K. Henry. Now, God be prais'd! that to believing souls
Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!

Then we have the Mayor of St. Alban's, and his brethren; and Simpcox, borne between two persons in a chair; his wife, and a great multitude, following.

Cardinal. Here come the townsmen in procession, To present your highness with the man.

K. Henry. Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, Although by his sight his sin be multiplied.

Gloster. Stand by, my masters, bring him near the king, His highness' pleasure is to talk with him.

K. Henry. Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance,
That we for thee may glorify the Lord.

What, hast thou been born blind, and now restor❜d?
Simpcox. Born blind, an't please your grace.

Wife. Ay, indeed, was he.

Suff. What woman is this?

Wife. His wife, an't like your lordship.

Glo. Had'st thou been his mother, thou could'st have better told. K. Henry. Where wert thou born?

Simp. At Berwick in the north, an't like your grace.

K. Henry Poor soul! God's goodness hath been great to thee: Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass,

But still remember what the Lord hath done.

Q. Margaret. Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here by chance, Or of devotion, to this holy shrine?

Simp. God knows, of pure devotion; being call'd

A hundred times, and oftener, in my sleep

By good Saint Alban; who said, 'Simpcox, come;
Come, offer, at my shrine, and I will help thee.'

Wife. Most true, forsooth; and many time and oft
Myself have heard a voice to call him so.

Car. What, art thou lame?

Simp. But once in all my life, when I was a youth.
Wife. Too true, and bought his climbing very dear.

Glo. Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that would'st venture so.
Simp. Alas, good sir, my wife desir'd some damsons,

And made me climb with danger of my life.

Glo. A subtle knave! but yet it shall not serve. Let's see thine eyes: wink now: now open them. In my opinion, yet thou seest not well.

Simp. Yes, master, clear as day; I thank God and St. Alban. Glo. Say'st thou me so? what colour is this cloak of?

Simp. Red, master, red as blood.

Glo. Why, that's well said: what colour is my gown of?

Simp. Black, forsooth; coal-black as jet.

K. Henry. Why, then thou know'st what colour jet is of?
Suff. And yet, I think, jet did he never see.

Glo. But cloaks and gowns, before this day, a many.

Wife. Never before this day in all his life.

Glo. Tell me, sirrah, what's my name?

Simp. Alas, master, I know not.

Glo. What's his name?

Simp. I know not.

Glo. Nor his?

Simp. No indeed, master.

Glo. What's thine own name?

Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, master.

Glo. Saunder, sit there, the lying'st knave in Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou might'st as well know all our names, as thus to name the several colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish colours: but suddenly to nominate them all, it is impossible. My lords, St. Alban here hath done a miracle; would ye not think that cunning to be great, that could restore this cripple to his legs?

Simp. O master, that you could!

Glo. My masters of St. Alban's, Have you not beadles in your town,

And things called whips?

Mayor. Yes, my lord, if it please your grace.

Glo. Then send for one presently.

May. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight.

Glo. Now fetch me a stool hither. Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping, leap me over this stool, and run away. Simp. Alas! master, I am not able to stand alone; you go about to torture me in vain.

Glo. Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. Sirrah, beadle, whip him till he leap over that same stool.

Beadle. I will, my lord. Come on, sirrah. Off with your doublet quickly.

Simp. Alas! master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand.

After the beadle has hit him once, he leaps over the stool and runs away; and they follow, and cry, a miracle!'

K. Henry. O God, seest thou this, and bear'st so long!
Queen. It made me laugh to see the villain run.
Gloster. Follow the knave, and take this drab away.
Wife. Alas! sir, we did it for pure need.

Glo. Let them be whip'd through every market town,
Till they come to Berwick, from whence they came.

Cardinal. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day.
Suffolk. True, made the lame to leap, and fly away.
Glo. But you have done more miracles than I;
You made, in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly.

Shakspere gives this instance of a pretended miracle in order, apparently, to expose the nature of those esteemed real, and to show that however the religious might believe in them as proofs of heaven, the wise and the cunning of the world, laymen, priests, and women, laughed at them. Excepting this object, it is difficult to conceive what the author could have in view. This miracle scene is purely episodical, and applies neither to anything going before nor coming after. We might suppose that a popish miracle was here ridiculed, were not the early incidents of the case a perfect transcript of the instance of Jesus restoring a blind man to sight.

Henry's acknowledgment of a God involves a reflection on Providence. The ideas in part, and, in part the words, seem taken from the Scriptures. We are told upon the occasion of miracles in the New Testament, that a great multitude went about glorifying the Lord. King Henry is drawn as receiving all with the most approved credulity. He seems overcome by the impious exhibition. Shakspere puts into his mouth wonder, at the forbearance of God. His other characters; under similar circumstances, fall into daring remonstrance at the want of help, or interference, in the heavens.

Knight calls this scene 'a ludicrous episode in a tragic