The King is now in progrefs tow'rds St. Albans, 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, The Duke yet lives, that Henry hall depofe; [there? Who's within Why, this is juft, Aio te Æacidem Romanos vincere poffe. 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? 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, [made, 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. K. Henry. I pr'ythee, peace, good Queen; 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. 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. SCE ENE II. Enter One crying, A miracle! Glou. What means this noife? Fellow, what miracle do'ft thou proclaim? Suf. Come to the King, and tell him what miracle. 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? 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. 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, 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! Simp. A fall +'from off a tree? 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.. Glou. Tell me, Sirrah, what's my name? Glou. What's his name? Simp. I know not. H 3 Glan 4 off of 5 Yes, mafter, clear |