My lord protector will, I doubt it not,
See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts.

Duch. Not half so bad as thine to England's king, Injurious duke; that threat'st where is no cause. Buck. True, madam, none at all. What call you this? [Shewing her the papers.

Away with them; let them be clapp'd up close,
And kept asunder :-You, madam, shall with us :—
Stafford, take her to thee. [Exit Duchess from above.
We'll see your trinkets here all forth-coming;
All.-Away!

[Exeunt Guards, with SOUTH. BOLING. &c. York. Lord Buckingham, methinks, you watch'd her well :

A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon!

Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ.

What have we here?

The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose;
But him outlive, and die a violent death.
Why, this is just,

Aio te,

acida, Romanos vincere posse.

Well, to the rest :

Tell me, what fate awaits the duke of Suffolk?
By water shall he die, and take his end.-
What shall betide the duke of Somerset ?-
Let him shun castles;

Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains,

Than where castles mounted stand.

Come, come, my lords;

These oracles are hardly attain'd,

And hardly understood.

The king is now in progress toward Saint Albans,

With him, the husband of this lovely lady :

[Reads.

Thither go these news, as fast as horse can carry them ;

A sorry breakfast for my lord protector.

Buck. Your grace shall give me leave, my lord of York,

To be the post, in hope of his reward.

York. At your pleasure, my good lord.-Who's within there, ho!

Enter a Servant.

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

sup

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Saint Albans.

Enter King HENRY, Queen

MARGARET, GLOSTER, Cardinal, and SUFFOLK, with Fal

coners hollaing.

Queen Margaret.

BELIEVE me, lords, for flying at the brook,"

I saw not better sport these seven years' day:
Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high;
And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out."

K. Hen. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest!-
To see how God in all his creatures works!
Yea, man and birds, are fain of climbing high.
Suf. No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My lord protector's hawks do tower so well;
They know their master loves to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.
Glo. My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

Car. I thought as much; he'd be above the clouds. Glo. Ay, my lord cardinal; How think you by that? Were it not good, your grace would fly to heaven? K. Hen. The treasury of everlasting joy!

Car. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts Beat on a crown,9 the treasure of thy heart; Pernicious protector, dangerous peer,

That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal!

Glo. What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown perémptory?

Tantæne animis cœlestibus iræ ?

[6] The falconer's term for hawking at water-fowl. JOHNSON.

[7] i. e. the wind was so high it was ten to one that the old hawk would not have taken her flight at the game. PERCY.

The ancient books of hawking do not enable me to decide the merits of this explanation. It may yet be remarked, that the terms belonging to this once popular amusement were in general settled with the utmost precision; and I may at least venture to declare, that a mistress might have been kept at a cheaper rate than a falcon. To compound a medicine to cure one of these birds of worms, it was necessary to destroy no fewer animals than a lamb, a culver, a pigeon, a buck, and a cat. I have this from the Booke of Haukinge, bl. 1. no date. STEEVENS.

[8] Fain, fond. The word, as I am informed, is still used in Scotland. STEEV [9] To bait, or beat (bathe) is a term in falconry. JOHNSON.

To bathe, and to beat, or bate, are distinct terms in this diversion. To bathe a hawk was to wash his plumage. To beat, or bate, was to flutter with his wings. To beat on a crown, however, is equivalent to an expression still used-to hammer, i. e. to work in the mind. STEEVENS.

#

Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice;
With such holiness can you do it?

Suf. No malice, sir; no more than well becomes
So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer.

Glo. As who, my lord?

Suf. Why, as you, my lord;

An't like your lordly lord-protectorship.

Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.
Q. Mar. And thy ambition, Gloster.

K. Hen. I pr'ythee, peace, good queen;
And whet not on these furious peers,
For blessed are the peace makers on earth.
Car. Let me be blessed for the peace I make,
Against this proud protector, with my sword!
Glo. Faith, holy uncle, 'would 'twere come to that!
[Aside to the Cardinal.

[Aside.

Car. Marry, when thou dar'st.
Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the matter,

In thine own person answer thy abuse.

[Aside.

Car. Ay, where thou dar'st not peep: an if thon

dar'st,

This evening, on the east side of the grove.

K. Hen. How now, my lords?

Car. Believe me, cousin Gloster,

Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,

[Aside.

We had had more sport.- -Come with thy two-hand

sword.'

Glo. True, uncle.

[Aside to GLOSTER.

Car. Are you advis'd ?—the east side of the grove?

Glo. Cardinal, I am with you.

K. Hen. Why, how now, uncle Gloster?

[Aside.

Glo. Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord.

Now, by God's mother, priest, I'll shave your crown for

this,

Protector, see to't well, protect yourself.

[Aside.

[Aside.

K. Hen. The winds grow high; so do your stomach",

lords.

How irksome is this music to my heart!

When such strings jar, what hope of harmony?

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

[1] The two-hand sword was sometimes called the long-sword, and in common use before the introduction of the rapier. MALONE.

Enter an Inhabitant of Saint Albans, crying, A Miracle! Glo. What means this noise?

Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?

Inhab. A miracle! a miracle!

Suf. Come to the king, and tell him what miracle. Inhab. Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban's shrine, Within this half hour, hath receiv'd his sight;

A man, that ne'er saw in his life before.

K. Hen. Now, God be prais'd! that to believing souls Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!

Enter the Mayor of Saint Albans, and his Brethren; and SIMPCOX, borne between two Persons in a chair; his Wife and a great multitude following.

Car. Here come the townsmen on procession,

To present your highness with the man.

K. Hen. Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, Although by his sight his sin be multiplied.

Glo. Stand by, my masters, bring him near the king, His highness' pleasure is to talk with him.

K. Hen. Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance,
That we for thee may glorify the Lord.

What, hast 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.

Glo. Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst have better told.

K. Hen. Where wert thou born?

Simp. At Berwick in the north, an't like your grace.
K. Hen. Poor soul! God's goodness hath been great to

Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass,
But still remember what the Lord hath done.

[thee:

Q.Mar. Tell me, good fellow, cam'st 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 sleep

By good Saint Alban; who said,―Simpcox, come ;
Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.

Wife. Most true, forsooth; and many time and oft
Myself have heard a voice to call him so.

Car. What, art thou lame?

Simp. Ay, God Almighty help me!
Suf. How cam'st thou so?

Simp. A fall off of a tree.

Wife. A plum-tree, master.

Glo. How long hast thou been blind?
Simp. O, born so, master.

Glo. What, and wouldst climb a tree?

Simp. But that in all my life, when I was a youth.
Wife. Too true; and bought his climbing very dear.
Glo. Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that wouldst ven-

ture so.

Simp. Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some damsons. And made me climb, with danger of my life.

Glo. A subtle knave! but yet it shall not serve.— Let me see thine eyes :-wink now ;-now open them :In my opinion yet thou see'st not well.

Simp. Yes, master, clear as day; I thank God, and

Saint Alban.

Glo. Say'st thou mé so? What colour is this cloak of? Simp. Red, master; red as blood.

Glo. Why, that's well said: What colour is my gown of?
Simp. Black, forsooth; coal-black, as jet.

K. Hen. Why then, thou know'st what colour jet is of?
Suf. And yet, I think, jet did he never see.
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, master, 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. Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lyingest knave In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, Thou might'st as well have known our names, as thus To name the several colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours; but suddenly To nominate them all, 's impossible.

My lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle

And would ye not think that cunning to be great,
That could restore this cripple to his legs?
Simp. O, master, that you could!

Glo. My masters of Saint Albans, have you not beadles in your town, and things called whips?