Glo. True, Uncle, are ye advis'd?——— The Eaft fide of the Grove:

Cardinal, I am with you.

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

[Afide.

Glo. 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.] Medice cura teipfum, Protector fee too well, K. Henry. The Winds grow high,

So do your Stomachs, Lords.

[protect your felf.

How irksome is this Mufick to my Heart?

When fuch Strings jar, what hope of Harmony?
I pray, my Lords, let me compound this ftrife.
Enter One, crying A Miracle.

Glo. What means this Noife?

Fellow, what Miracle do'st 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 Shrine, 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 Souls Gives Light in Darkness, Comfort in Despair.

Enter the Mayor of St. Albans, and his Brethren, bearing
Simpcox between two in a Chair, Simpcox's Wife following:
Car. Here come the Townsmen on proceffion,

To prefent your Highness with the Man.

K. Henry. Great is his comfort in this Earthly Vale, Although by his fight his Sin be multiplied.

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 glorifie the Lord.

What, haft thou been long blind, and now restor❜d?
Simp. Born blind, and't please your Grace.
Wife. Ay, indeed was he.

Suf. What Woman is this?

Wife. His Wife, and't please your Worship,

Glo. Hadft thou been his Mother, thou couldst have better sold.

K. Henry. Where wert thou born?

Simp. At Berwick in the North, and't like your

Grace.

K. Henry. Poor Soul,

God's goodness hath been great to thee:

Let never Day nor Night unhallowed pass,
But ftill remember what the Lord hath done.
Queen. Tell me, Good-fellow,

Cam ft thou here by Chance, or of Devotion,
To this holy Shrine?

Simp. God knows of pure Devotion,
Being call'd a hundred times, and oftner,
In my fleep, by good Saint Alban:

Who faid; Simon, come, come offer at my Shrine,
And I will help thee.

Wife. Moft true, forfooth;

And many a time and oft my felf have heard a Voice,
To call him so.

Card. 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 would'st climb a Tree?

Simp. But that in my Life, when I was a Youth, Wife. Too true, and bought his climbing very dear. Glo. Mafs, thou lov'dft Plums well, that wouldft venture fo.

Simp. Alas, good Mafter, my Wife defired fome Damfons, and made me climb, with danger of my Life.

Glo. A fubtile Knave, but yet it fhall not ferve: Let me fee thine Eyes, wink now, now open them, In my opinion, yet thou feeft not well.

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

Glo. Say'ft thou me fo; what Colour is this Cloak of ?
Simp. Red, Mafter, red as Blood.
VOL. III.

K k

Glo.

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 of? Suf. And yet, I think, Jet he did never fee.

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 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, and if it please you, Mafter.
Glo. Then Saunder, fit there,

The lyingft Knave in Chriftendom.

If thou hadst been born blind,

Thou might'ft as well have known all our Names,
As thus to know 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:
And would ye not think that Cunning to be great,
That could reftore this Cripple to his Legs again?
Simp. O Mafter, that you could?

Glo. My Mafters of Saint Albans,
Have you not Beadles in your Town,
And things call'd Whips?

Mayor. Yes, my Lord, if it pleafe your Grace.
Glo. Then fend for one prefently.

Mayor. Sirrah, go fetch the Beadle hither ftraight. [Exit.
Gle. Now fetch me a Stool hither by and by.

Now Sirrah, if you mean to fave your felf from Whipping, leap me over this Stoo!, and run away.

Simp. Alas Mafter, I am not able to ftand alone :

You go 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 Stool.

Bead.

Bead. 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 Beadle bath hit him once, he leaps over the Stool, and runs away; and they follow, and cry, A Miracle. K. Henry. O God, feeft thou this, and beareft fo long! Queen. It made me laugh, to see the Villain run. Glo. Follow the Knave, and take this Drab away. Wife. Alas, Sir, we did it for pure need.

Glo. Let him be whipt through every Market Town, "Till they come to Berwick, from whence they came. [Exit Beadle. Car. Duke Humphry has done a Miracle to day. Suf. 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. 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 dangeroufly 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 Glo'fter. Glo. Ambitious Church-man, leave to afflict my Heart: Sorrow and Grief have vanquish'd all my Powers; And vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee,

Or to the meanest Groom.

K. Henry. O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones,
Heaping confufion on their own Heads thereby?
Queen. Glofter, fee here the Tainture of thy Neft,
And look thy felf be faultlefs, thou wert best.

Glo. Madam, for my felf, to Heav'n I do appeal,
How I have lov'd my King, and Commonwealth:
And for my Wife, I know not how it ftands,
Sorry am I to hear, what I have heard;
Noble fhe is; but if the have forgot
Honour and Virtue, and convers'd with fuch,
As like to Pitch, defile Nobility;

I banish her my Bed and Company,

And give her as a Prey to Law and Shame,
That hath dishonoured Glo'fter's honeft Name.

K. Henry. Well, for this Night we will repofe us here; To morrow toward London, back again,

To look into this Bufinefs thoroughly,

And call thefe foul Offenders to their anfwers;
And poife the Caufe in Juftice equal Scales,

Whole Beam ftands fure, whofe rightful caufe prevails.

Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick.

[Exeunt.

York, Now, my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick,.
Our fimple Supper ended, give me leave,
In this clofe Walk to fatisfie my felf,
In craving your Opinion of my Title,
Which is infallible to England's Crown.

Salis. My Lord, I long to hear it thus at full.
War. Sweet Tork begin; and if thy claim be good,
The Nevils are thy Subjects to command.
Tork. Then thus:

Edward the Third, my Lords, had feven Sons:
The firft, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales;
The fecond, William of Hatfield; and the third,
Lionel Duke of Clarence; next to whom,
Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster;
The fifth, was Edward Langley, Duke of York;
The fixth, Thomas Woodstock, Duke of Glofter;
William of Windfor was the feventh and laft.
Edward the Black Prince dy'd before his Father,
And left behind him Richard, his only Son,

Who,