ACT II. SCENE I. At St. Alban's.

Enter King Henry, Queen, Protector, Cardinal, and Suffolk, with Faulconers hallooing.

2. Mar.

BELIEVE me, Lords, for flying at the

brook,

1 faw not better fport these seven years' day; Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high, And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.

[made

K. Henry. But what a point, my Lord, your faulcon
And what a pitch she flew above the rest:
To fee how God in all his creatures works!
Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.

Suf. No marvel, an' it like your Majefty,
My Lord Protector's hawks do tow'r fo well;
They know, their mafter loves to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his faulcon's pitch.
Glo. My Lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind,
That mounts no higher than a bird can foar.

Car. I thought as much he'd be above the clouds.
Glo. Ay, my Lord Card❜nal, how think you by that?
Were it not good your Grace cou'd fly to heav'n?
K. Henry. The treafury of everlasting joy!

Car. Thy heaven is on earth, thine eyes and thoughts Bent on a crown, the treasure of thy heart: Pernicious Protector, dangerous Peer,

That smooth'st it so with King and common-weal!

Glo. What Card'nal! is your priesthood grown so peremptory? Tantane animis cæleftibus ira!

Churchmen fo hot? good uncle, hide fuch malice.
With fuch holinefs can you not do it?

Suf. No malice, Sir, no more than well becomes.

So good a quarrel, and fo bad a Peer.
Glo. As who, my Lord?

Suf. Why, as yourfelf, my Lord;
An't like your lordly Lord Protectorship.

Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine infolenes. 2. Mar. And thy ambition, Glo'fter.

K. Henry. I pray thee, peace, good Queen; And whet not on thefe too too furious Peers,

For

For bleffed are the peace makers on earth.

Car. Let me be bleffed for the peace I make, Against this proud Protector, with my fword! Glo. 'Faith, holy uncle, 'would 'twere come] to that.

Car. Marry, when thou dar'ft.

Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the matter,

In thine own person answer thy abuse.

Car. Ay, where thou dar'ft not peep: and
if thou dar'ft,

This ev'ning on the east fide of the grove.
K. Henry. How now, my Lords?
Car. Believe me, coufin Glo'fter,

Had not your man put up the fowl fo fuddenly,

[Afide.

We'd had more sport

fword.

Come with thy two-hand

[Afide to Gloucefter.

Glo. True, uncle.

Car. Are you advis'd? The eaft fide of the grove? Glo. Cardinal, I am with you.

K. Henry. Why, how now, uncle Glo'fter?

Glo. Talking of hawking; nothing elfe, my Lord.Now, by God's mother, Prieft, I'll have

this,

Or all my fence fhall fail.

Car. [Afide.] Medice, teipfum.

Protector, fee to't well, protect yourself.

Afide.

your crown for

[Afide

K. Henry. The winds grow high, so do your ftomachs, How irksome is this music to my heart!

When fuch flrings jar, what hopes of harmony?
I pray, my Lords, let me compound this ftrife.

[Lords.

SCENE II. Enter One, crying, A miracle.

Glo. What means this noife?

Fellow, what miracle doft thou proclaim?

One. A miracle, a miracle!

Suf. Come to the King, and tell him what miracle. One. Forfooth, a blind man at St. Alban's fhrine, Within this half-hour hath receiv'd his fight;

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

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

Enter

Enter the Mayor of St. Alban's, and his brethren, bearing Simpcox between two in a chair, Simpcox's wife fol lowing.

Car. Here come the townfmen on proceffion, Before your Highnefs to present the man.

K. Henry. Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, Though by his fight his fin be multiply'd.

Glo. Stand by, my mafters, bring him near the King, His Highness' pleasure is to talk with him.

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

What, haft thou been long blind, and now restor’d?
Simp. Born blind, an't please your Grace,

Wife. Ay, indeed, was he.

Suf. What woman is this?

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

Glo. Had'st thou been his mother, thou couldst have better told..

K. Henry. Where wert thou born?

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

your Grace. K. Henry. Poor foul! God's goodnefs hath been great to thee;

Let never day or night unhallowed pass,

But ftill remember what the Lord hath done.

Queen. Tell me, good fellow, cam'ft thou here by Or of devotion, to this holy fhrine?

[chance, Simp. God knows, of pure devotion; being call'd A hundred times and oft'ner, in my fleep

By good Saint Alban; who faid, Simpcox, come;
Come, offer at my fhrine, and I will help thee.

Wife. Moft true, forfooth; and many a time and oft

Myfelf have heard a voice to call him fo.

Car. What, art thou lame?

Simp. Ay, God Almighty help me!

Suf. How cam'ft thou fo?

Simp. A fall off a tree.

Wife. A plum-tree, Mafter.

Glo. How long haft thou been blind?

Simp. O, born fo, Mafter.

Glo. What, and wouldít climb a tree?

Simp. But once in all my life, when I was a youth.

Wife. Too true, and bought his climbing very dear. Glo. Mafs, thou lov'dst plums well that wouldft venture fo.

Simp. Alas, good Sir, my wife defir'd fome damfons, And made me climb with danger of my life.

Glo. A fubtle knave! but yet it fhall not serve: Let's fee thine eyes; wink now, now open them; In my opinion, yet, thou seeft not well.

of?

Simp. Yes, Mafter, clear as day; I thank God and St. Alban.

Glo. Say'ft thou me fo? what colour is this cloak of? Simp. Red, Master, red as blood.

Glo. Why, that's well faid. What colour is my gown of! Simp. Black, forfooth, coal-black, as jet.

K. Henry. Why then thou know'ft what colour jet is

Suf. And

yet I think jet did he never fee.

Glo. But cloaks and gowns, before this day, a many.
Wife. Never before this day in all his life.

Glo. Tell me firrah, what's my name?
Simp. Alas, Mafter, I know not.

Glo. What's his name?

Simp. I know not.

Glo. Nor his?

Simp. No, indeed, Mafter.

Glo. What's thine own name?

Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an' if it please you, Mafter.

Glo. Saunder, fit there, the lying'ft knave in Christendom.

If thou had been born blind,

Thou might'ft as well know all our names, as thus

To name the feveral colours we do wear.

Sight may diftinguish colours:

But fuddenly to nominate them all,

It is impoffible.

My Lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle:
Would ye not think that cunning to be great,

That could reftore this cripple to his legs?

Simp. O Mafter, that

you could!

Glo. My matters of Saint Alban's, Have not beadles in your town, And things call'd whips?

you

Mayor.

Mayor. Yes, my Lord, if it please your Grace.
Glo. Then fend for one presently.

Mayor. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither ftraight. [Exit Messenger. Glo. Now, fetch me a ftool hither. Now, firrah, if you mean to fave yourself from whipping, leap me over this ftocl, and run away.

Simp. Alas, Master, I am not able to ftand alone: you go about to torture me in vain.

Enter a Beadle with whips.

Glo. Well, Sir, we must have you find your legs. Sirrah, beadle, whip him till he leap over that fame ftool.

Bead. I will, my Lord. Come on, firrah, off with your doublet quickly.

Simp. Alas, Mafter, what fhall I do! I am not able to ftand.

[After the beadle bath hit him once, he leaps over the flool, and runs away; and they follow, and cry, A miracle!

K. Henry. O God, feeft thou this, and bear'ft fo long!
Queen. It made me laugh to fee the villain run.
Glo. Follow the knave, and take this drab away.
Wife. Alas, Sir, we did it for pure need.

Glo. Let them be whipp'd through every markettown, till they come to Berwick, from whence they came. [Exit Beadle with the woman.

Car. Duke Humphry has done a miracle to-day. Suf. True; made the lame to leap, and flee away. Glo. But you have done more miracles than I; You made in a day, my Lord, whole towns to fly.

SCENE III. Enter Buckingham.

K. Henry. What tidings with our cousin Buckingham? Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold: A fort of naughty perfons, lewdly bent, Under the countenance and confederacy Of Lady Eleanor, the Protector's wife, (The ringleader and head of all this rout,)