Enter the Duke of York, and the Duke of Buckingham, with their Guard, and break in.

York. Lay hands upon these traitors, and their trash :
Beldame, I think we watch'd you at an inch.
What, Madam, are you there? the King and Realm
Are deep indebted for this piece of pains;
My lord Protector will, I doubt it not,

See you well guerdon'd for these good deferts.
Elean. Not half so bad as thine to England's King,
Injurious Duke, that threat'ft where is no cause.

Buck. True, Madam, none at all: What call you this?
Away with them, let them be clap'd up close,
And kept apart. You, Madam, fhall with us.
Stafford, take her to thee.

We'll fee your Trinkets here forth-coming all.

[Exeunt Guards with Jordan, Southwel, &c.

York. Lord Buckingham, methinks, you watch'd her A pretty Plot, well chofe to build upon.

[well;

[Reads.

Now, pray, my lord, let's fee the devil's Writ.

What have we here?

The Duke yet lives, that Henry fhall depofe;

But him out-live, and die a violent death.

Why, this is juft, Aio te Æacida Romanos vincere poffe.

Well, to the rest:

Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk?

By water fhall be die, and take his end.

What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?

Let him fhun caftles,

Safer fhall be be upon the fandy plains,

Than where caftles mounted stand.

Come, come, my lords;

Thefe Oracles are hardily attain'd, (5)

And hardly understood.

(5) Thefe Oracles are hardly attain'd,

The

And hardly understood.] Not only the Lameness of the Verfification, but the Imperfection of the Senfe too, made me fufpect this paffage to be corrupt. The Meaning is very poor, as it ftands in all the printed Copies; but I have formerly, by the Addition of a fingle Letter, both

help'd

The King is now in progress tow'rds St. Albans ;
With him, the husband of this lovely lady:

Thither go these news, as faft as horfe can carry them : A forry breakfaft 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 Serving-man.

Invite my lords of Salisbury and Warwick,
To fup with me to morrow night. Away!

[Exeunt.

help'd the Verfe and the Sentiment. York, feizing the Parties and their Papers, fays, he'll fee the Devil's Writ; and finding the Wizard's Anfwers intricate and ambiguous, he makes this general Comment upon fuch fort of Intelligence, as I have restor'd the Text :

Thefe Oracles are hardily attain'd,

And hardly understood.

i, e. A great Rifque and Hazard is run to obtain them, (viz. going to the Devil for them, as 'twas pretended and fuppos'd :) and likewife the incurring fevere Penalties by the Statute-Law against such Practices; and yet after these hardy Steps taken, the Informations are fo perplex'd that they are hardly to be understood.

ACT II.

SCENE, at St. Albans.

Enter King Henry, Queen, Protector, Cardinal, and Suffolk, with Faulkners hallowing.

B

2. MARGARET.

ELIEVE me, lords, for flying at the brook,
I faw not better sport these feven years day;
Yet by your leave, the wind was very high,
And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.
K. Henry. But what a point, my lord, your
Faulcon made,

And what a pitch fhe flew above the reft:
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 towre 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 could fly to heav'n?
K. Henry. The treasury of everlasting joy!

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

That Smooth'ft it fo with King and Common-weal!

Glo.

Glo. What, Card'nal! Is your priesthood grown fo peremptory? Tantæne animis Cæleftibus ira? Churchmen fo hot? good uncle, hide such malice. With fuch Holinefs can you 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 yourself, my lord;
An't like your lordly, lord Protectorship.

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

K. Henry. I pr'ythee, peace, good Queen;
And whet not on thefe 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! 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 eaft fide of the grove.
K. Henry. How now, my lords?

Car. Believe me, coufin Glo'fter,

Afide.

Had not your man put up the fowl fo fuddenly,
We'd had more fport-Come with thy two-hand

fword. (6)

Glo. True, uncle.

(6)

Come with thy two-hand Sword.

[Afide to Glo.

Glo. True, Uncle, are ye advis'd? The eaft fide of the Grove. Cardinal, I am with You.] Thus is this whole Speech plac'd to Glou cefter, in all the Editions: but furely, with great Inadvertence. It is the Cardinal, who first appoints the East Side of the Grove for the place of Duell and how finely does it exprefs the Rancour and Impetuofity of the Cardinal, for Fear Gloucefter fhould mistake, to repeat the Appointment, and ask his Antagonist if he takes him right! So I have ventur'd to regulate the Speeches; as it improves a Beauty, and avoids an Abfurdity.

Car.

Car. Are you advis'd?—The east fide of the Grove.
Glo. Cardinal, I am with you.

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

[Afide.

Glo. Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord. Now, by God's mother, Prieft, I'll fhave your crown for this,

Or all

my Fence fhall fail.

Car. [Afide.] Medice, teipfum.

Protector, fee to't well, protect your felf.

[Afide.

flords.

K. Henry. The winds grow high, fo do your ftomachs,

How irksome is this mufick to my heart?

When fuch strings jar, what hopes of harmony?

I pray, my lords, let me compound this ftrife.

Enter One, crying, A Miracle!

Glo. What means this noise?

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

Car. Here come the townfmen on proceffion, Before your Highness to prefent 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 Highnefs' 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?