"York. Lord Buckingham, methinks, you watch'd her well: "A pretty plot, well chofen to build upon ! The duke yet lives, that Henry fhall depose; "Aio te, Eacida, Romanos vincere posse. Tell me, what fate awaits the duke of Suffolk? What ball betide the duke of Somerfet? Let him bun caftles; Safer fball he be upon the fandy plains, "These oracles are hardily attain'd, "And hardly understood. [Reads. The king is now in progrefs towards faint Albans, With him, the husband of this lovely lady: Thither go these news, as fast as horse can carry them; • A sorry breakfast for my lord protector. • Buck. Your grace fhall give me leave, my lord of York, To be the poft, in hope of his reward. York. At your pleafure, my good lord.-Who's 'within there, ho! Enter a Servant. Invite my lords of Salisbury, and Warwick, C 4 [Exeunt. ACT Saint Albans. Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, GLOSTER, Cardinal, and SUFFOLK, with Falconers hollaing. 2. Mar. Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook, I faw not better fport these feven years' day : Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high; And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out. • K. Hen. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, 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 majesty, My lord protector's hawks do tower so well; They know, their mafter loves to be aloft, "And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. Clo. 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 cardinal; How think you by that? Were it not good, your grace could fly to heaven? "K. Hen. The treafury of everlasting joy! Car. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart; Pernicious prote&or, dangerous peer, That fmooth'ft it fo with king and commonweal! Gio. What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown perémptory? "Tantane « Tantæne animis cœleftibus iræ? • Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide fuch malice; • With fuch holiness can you do it? Suf. No malice, fir: no more than well becomes So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer. Glo. As who, my lord? Suf. Why, as you, my lord; An't like your lordly lord-protectorship. Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine infolence. 2. Mar. And thy ambition, Gloster. K. Hen. I pr'ythee, peace, Good queen; and whet not on these furious peers, For bleffed are the peacemakers on earth. Car. Let me be blessed 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. [Afide to the Cardinal. [Afide. [Afide. Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the matter, In thine own perfon anfwer thy abuse. 'Car. Ay, where thou dar'ft not peep: an if thou dar'st, • This evening, on the east side of the grove. [Afide. Believe me, cousin Glofter, 'K. Hen. How now, my lords? Car. 'Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, 'We had had more sport.-Come with thy two-hand fword. Glo. True, uncle. [Afide to GLO. Car. Are you advis`d?—the east side of the grove ? K. Hen. [Afide. Why, how now, uncle Glofter? Glo. Talking of hawking; nothing elfe, my lord. Now, Now, by God's mother, prieft, I'll fhave your crown for this, "Or all my fence shall fail. "Car. Medice teipfum; • Protector, fee to't well, protect yourself. [Afide. [Afide. K. Hen. The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords. "How irksome is this musick to my heart! "When such strings jar, what hope of harmony? "I pray, my lords, let me compound this ftrife. Enter an Inhabitant, of Saint Albans, crying, A Miracle! Glo. What means this noise ? Fellow, what miracle doft thou proclaim? Inhab. A miracle! a miracle! Suf. Come to the king, and tell him what miracle. Inhab. Forfooth, a blind man at faint Alban's fhrine, Within this half hour, hath receiv'd his fight; A man, that ne'er faw in his life before. K. Hen. Now, God be prais'd! that to believing fouls Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair! Enter the Mayor of Saint Albans, and his brethren and SIMPCOX, borne between two persons in a chair; his wife and a great multitude following. "Car. Here come the townsmen on procession, "To present your highness with the man. "K. Hen. Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, Although by his fight his fin be multiply'd. "Glo. Stand by, my masters, bring him near the king, "His highness' pleasure is to talk with him. "K. Hen. "K. Hen. Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance, "That we for thee may glorify the Lord. What, haft thou been long blind, and now reftor'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'ft thou been his mother, thou could't have better told. K. Hen. Where wert thou born? Simp. At Berwick in the north, an't like your grace. K. Hen. Poor foul! God's goodness hath been great to thee: • Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass, But ftill remember what the Lord hath done. "2. Mar. Tell me, good fellow, cam'ft thou here by chance, "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 faint Alban; who faid,-Simpcox, come; "Wife. Molt true, forfooth; and many time and oft Myself have heard a voice to call him fo. Car. What, art thou lame? Simp. But that in all my life, when I was a youth. "Wife. Too true; and bought his climbing very dear. "Glo. |