Away with them, let them be clap'd up clofe,
And kept apart. You, Madam, fhall with us,
Stafford, take her to thee.

We'll fee your trinkets here forthcoming all.

[Exeunt Guard with Jordan, Southwell, &c. York. The King is now in progrefs tow'rds St Alban's; With him the husband of this lovely lady :

Thither go thefe news, as fast as horse can carry

them ;

Buck. Your Grace fhall give me leave, my Lord of

A forry breakfast for my Lord Protector.

To be the post, in hope of his reward.

York. At your pleafure, my good Lord.

[York,

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.

-Southwell, &c.

York. Lord Buckingham, me thinks you watch'd her well, A pretty plot well chofe to build upon.

Now pray, my Lord, let's fee the devil's writ.

What have we hear?

The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depofe;

But him outlive 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 he die, and take his end,

What shall betide the Duke of Somerfet?

This repetition of the prophecies, which is altogether unnecellary, after what the fpectators had heard in the scene immediately preceed. ing, is not to be found in the first edition of this play.

Mr Pope.

A C T

II. SCENE I.

At St Alban's.

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

2. Mar.

Elieve me, Lords, for flying at the brook, I faw not better sport thefe feven years' Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high, And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.

[day;:

faulcon

[made:

K. Henry. But what a point, my Lord, your, And what a pith the 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 bafe 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 treasury 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 fmooth'ft it fo with King and common-weal! *
Glo. What Cardinal! is your priesthood grown fo
Peremptory? Tantæne animis cæleftibus ira?
Churchmen fo hot? good uncle, hide fuch malice.
With fuch holine's 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 yourself, my Lord;

An't like your lordly Lord Prote&orship.

Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine infolence.. 2 Mar And thy ambition, Glo'iter.

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

For bleffed are the peace-makers on earth.
Gar. 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 perfon answer thy abuse.

Car. Ay, where thou dar'ft not peep

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'ster,

and

Had not your man put up the fowl fo fuddenly,

>[Afide.

We'd had more sport

fword.

Glo. True, uncle.

Come with thy two hand

[Afide to Gloucester.

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?

[Afide.

Glo. Talking of hawking; nothing elfe, my Lord.Now, by God's mother, Priest, I'll fhave your crown

for this,

Or all my fence shall fail.

Car. [Afide.] Medice, teipfum.

Protector, fee to't well, protect yourself.

[Afide.

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

[Lords.

When fuch ftrings jár, what hopes of harmony?
I play, my Lords, let me compound this ftrife.

SCENE II. Enter One, crying, A miracle !
Gl2. 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. For footh, 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 Gives light in darknefs, comfort in despair!

[fouls

Enter the Mayor of St Alban's, 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 prefent the man.

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

Gl. 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 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.

Gio. Had ft 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!

great to thee.

God's goodness hath been

Let never day or night unhallowed pafs,

But fill remember what the Lord hath done.

Queen. Tell me, good fellow, cam't 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 thrine, and I will help thee.

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

Myfelt have heard a voice to call him fo

Car. What, art thou lame?

Simp. Ay, God Almighty help me!"

Suf How cam'st thou fo?

Simp. A fall off a tree.

Wife. A plum-tree, Master.

Glo. How long hast thou been blind?

Simp O, horn fo, Mater.

Glo 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. Glo. Mafs, thou lov'dst plums well that wouldit venture fo.

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

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

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

Glo. Say't thou me fo? what colour is this cloak of? Simp. Red, Mafter, red as blood.

Glo. Why, that's well faid. gown of?

What colour is my

Simp. Black, forfooth, coal-black, as jet.

K. Henry. Why then thou know't what colour jet is of?

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, Master,

Glo. What's thine own name?

Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an' if it please you, Master. Glo Saunder, fit there, the lying'ft knave in Chri ftendom

If thou had'ft 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 Lord, Saint Alban here hoth done a miracle:
Would ye not think that cunning to be great,
That could restore this cripple to his legs?

Simp O Malter, that you could!

Glo. My Mafters of Saint Alban's,

Have you not beadles in your town,