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

Thither go thefe news, as fast as horfe can carry them: A sorry breakfast for my Lord Protector.

Buck. Your Grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York, To be the poft, in hope of his reward.

York. 'My Lord, at your good pleasure.

Enter a Serving-man.

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

The Duke yet lives, that Henry hall depofe;
But him out-live, and die a violent death.

[there? Who's within

Why, this is juft, Aio te Æacidem Romanos vincere poffe.
Well to the reft:

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 fbun caftles.

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Safer hall he be 'on the plains,

2

Than where a caftle mounted ftands.

Come, come, my Lords,

Thefe oracles are hardly attain'd,

And hardly understood.

The King is now, &c.

[Exeunt.

This repetition of the prophecies, which is altogether unnecessary after what the spectators have heard in the Scene immediately preceding, is not to be found in the firft editions of this Play.

Pope.

2 caftles mounted fland.

8 At your pleasure, my good Lord. 1 upon the fandy plains,

VOL. IV.

H

ACT

ACT II. SCENE I.

At St. Albans.

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

2. MARGARET,

Elieve me, Lords, for flying at the brook,
I faw no better sport thefe feven years day;
Yet by your leave, the wind was very high,
And ten to one old Joan had not gone out.

[made,
K. Henry. But what a point, my Lord, your Faulcon
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 master loves to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his Faulcon's pitch.
Glou. 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. Glou. 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 Bent on a crown, the treasure of thy heart: Pernicious Protector, dangerous Peer,

That smooth'ft it fo with King and common-weal! [tory? Glou. What, Cardinal! is your priesthood grown fo perempChurchmen 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.

Suf. Why, as yourself, my Lord,

An't like your lordly Lord Protectorfhip.

Glou. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine infolence.
Q. Mar. And thy ambition, Glo'fter.

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
Car. Marry, when thou dar'ft.
[that."
Glou. Make up no factious numbers for that
In thine own perfon answer thy abuse. [matter,
>[Afide.
Car. Ay, where thou dar'ft not peep: and if thou
This evening, on the eaft fide of the grove. [dar'ft, j
K. Henry. How now, my Lords?
Car. Believe me, coufin Glo'fter,

Had not your man put up the fowl fo fuddenly, We'd had more fport --- Come with thy two-hand fword. [Afide to Gloucefter.

'Glou. True, uncle.

Car. Are ye advis'd? --- The east fide of the grove.
Glou. Cardinal, I am with you.`

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

[Afide.

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, fee to't well, protect your felf. K. Henry. The winds grow high, fo do your ftomachs, How irkfome is this mufick to my heart! When fuch ftrings jar, what hope of harmony? I pray, my Lords, let me compound this ftrife.

[Lords.

3 Glou. True, uncle, are ye advis'd? The caft fide of the grove. Cardinal, I am with you.

old edit. Theob. emend.

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SCE ENE 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 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.

Glou. Stand by, my masters, bring him near the King, His Highnefs' pleasure is to talk with him.

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

Glou. 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, God's goodness hath been great to

Let never day or night unhallowed pass,

But ftill remember what the Lord hath done.

[thee:

Q. Mar.

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

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

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

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 fo?

Simp. A fall +'from off a tree?
Wife. A plum-tree, master.

Glou. How long hast thou been blind?

Simp. O, born so, master.

Glou. What, and wouldst 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 venture fo. Simp. Alas, good Sir, my wife defir'd fome damfons, And made me climb, with danger of my life. Glou. A fublte knave, but yet it shall not ferve: 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'st thou me fo? what colour is this cloak of? Simp. Red, master, red as blood.

Glou. 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.

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, master, I know not.

Glou. What's his name?

Simp. I know not.

H 3

Glan

4 off of

5 Yes, mafter, clear

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