Glou. 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. Gleu. Ay, my Lord Card❜nal, how think you by that Were it not good, your Grace could 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'ft it so with King and common-weal ! Glou. What, Card'nal! is your priesthood grown fo peremptory?

Churchmen fo hot? good uncle, hide fuch malice.

Suf. No malice, Sir, no more than well becomes So good a quarrel, and fo bad a Peer.

Glou. As who, my Lord ?

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

Glou. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine infolence.
Q. Mar. And thy ambition, Glofter.

K. Henry. I pr'ythee, peace, good Queen ;
And whet not on these too too furious Peers,
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! Glou.'Faith holy uncle, would 'twere come to that. Car. Marry, when thou dar'ft.

Glou.Make up no factious numbers for that matter, In thine own person answer thy abuse.

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

This evening, on the eaft 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

Glou. True, uncle.

Car. Are ye advis'd?-The eaft fide of the grove.

Glou, Cardinal, I am with you.

[Afide. K. Henry

K. Henry. Why, how now, uncle Glofter?
Glou. Talking of hawking, nothing elfe, my Lord.
Now by God's mother, prieft, I'll fhave your crown
For this, or all my fence fhall fail.

[Afide. Car. [Afide.] Protector, see to't well, protect your felf. K. Henry. The winds grow high, fo do your ftomachs,

Lords.

How irkfome is this musick to my heart!

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

SCENE II. Enter One crying, A miracle!
Glou. What means this noife?

Fellow, what miracle do'ft 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 defpair!

Enter the Mayor of St. Albans, and his brethren, bearing
Simpcox between two in a chair, Simpcox's wife following.
Car, Here come the townfmen on proceffion,
Before your Highness to present the man.

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

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

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

What, haft thou been long blind, and now reftor'd?
Simp. Born blind, an't pleafe your Grace,

Wife. Ay, indeed was he.

Suf. What woman is this?

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

Glou. 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
VOL. VI.

C

K. Henry. Poor foul, God's goodness hath been great to thee:

Let never day or night unhallowed pass,

But ftill remember what the Lord hath done.

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

Simp. God knows of pure devotion, being call'd
A hundred times and oftner, in my fleep,

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

[chance,

Wife. Moft true, forfooth; and many a time and oft My felf have heard a voice to call him fo.

Car. What, art thou lame?

Simp. Ay, God Almighty help me!
Suf. How cam'ft thou so?

Simp. A fall from off a tree.

Wife. A plum-tree, master.

Glou. How long haft thou been blind?

Simp. O, born so, mafter.

Glou. What, and wouldft climb a tree?

Simp. But once in all my life, when I was a youth.
Wife. Too true, and bought his climbing very dear.
Glou. Mafs, thou lov'ft plums well, that wouldft ven-
ture fo.

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

Glou. A fubtle knave, but yet it shall not serve : Let's fee thine eyes, wink now, now open them, In my opinion, yet, thou feeft not well.

Simp. Yes, clear as day, I thank God and St. Alban. Glou. Say'ft thou me fo? what colour is this cloak of ? Simp. Red, mafter, red as blood.

Glou. Why, that's well faid: what colour is my gown of ? Sim. Black, forfooth, coal-black, as jet.

K. Henry. Why then thou know'ft what colour jet is of?
Suf. And yet, I think, jet he did never fee.

Glou. But cloaks and gowns, before this day, a many.
Wife. Never before this day, in all his life.
Glou. Tell me, Sirrah, what's my name?
Simp. Alas, mafter, I know not,

Glou.

Glou. What's his name?

Simp. I know not.
Glou. Nor his?

Simp. No indeed, mafter.

Glou. What's thine own name ?

Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, mafter.
Glou. Then, Saunder, fit thou there, the lying'ft knave
In christendom. If thou hadst been born blind,

Thou might' ft as well know all our names, as thus
To know the feveral colours we do wear.
Sight may diftinguish colours: true, but fuddenly
To nominate them all, it is impoffible.

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 mafter, that you could!
Glou. My mafters of St. Albans,
Have you not bedels in your town,
And things call'd whips?

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

Mayor. Sirrah, go fetch the bedel hither straight.

[Exit Me Glou. Now fetch me a ftool hither. Now, Sirrah, if you mean to fave your felf from whipping, leap me over this ftool, and run away.

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

Enter a Bedel with whips.

Glou. Well, Sir, we must have you find your legs. Sirrah bedel, whip him 'till he leap over that fame ftool. Bed. I will, my Lord. Come on, Sirrah, off with your doublet quickly.

Simp. Alas, mafter, what fhall I do? I am not able to ftand.

[After the Bedel bath hit him once, be leaps over the fool
and runs away; and they follow, and cry, A miracle!
K. Henry. O God, feeft thou this, and bear'ft fo long!
Q. Mar, It made me laugh to see the villain run.
Glou. Follow the knave, and take this drab away.

C 2

Wife.

Wife. Alas, Sir, we did it for pure need.

Glou. Let them be whipt through every market town, 'till they come to Berwick, from whence they came.

[Exit Bedel with the Woman. Car. Duke Humphry hath done a miracle to day. Suf. True, made the lame to leap and fly away. Glou. 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 coufin 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 ring-leader and head of all this rout)
Have practis'd dangerously against your state,
Dealing with witches and with conjurers,
Whom we have apprehended in the fact,
Raifing up wicked spirits from under ground;
Demanding of King Henry's life and death,
And other of your Highness' privy-council,
As more at large your Grace fhall understand.
Car. And fo, my Lord Protector, by this means
Your Lady is forth coming, yet at London.
This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's edge.
'Tis like, my Lord, you will not keep your hour.

[Afide to Gloucefter.
Glou. Ambitious churchman, leave t'affliét my heart :
Sorrow and grief have vanquifh'd all my powers;
And vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee,
Or to the meaneft groom.

K. Henry. O God, what mifchiefs work the wicked ones, Heaping confufion or their own heads!

Mar. Glo'fter, fee here the tainture of thy neft,
And look thy felf be faultlefs, thou wert beft.
Glou. Madam, for me, to heav'n I do appeal,
How I have lov'd my King and common-weal:
And for my wife, I know not how it stands.
Sorry am I to hear what I have heard;
Noble the is; but if the have forgot

Honour