Enter a Serving man. Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick, ACT II. SCENE, at St. Albans. Enter King Henry, Queen, Protector, Cardinal, and Suffolk, with Faulkners hallowing. BE 2. MARGARET. [made, Elieve 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. 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 tower fo well; They knów, 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 could fly to heav'n ? K. Henry. The treafury of everlafting joy! Car. Thy heaven is on earth, thine eyes and thoughts That smooth'st it fo with King and common-weal! B Churchmen Churchmen fo hot? good uncle, hide fuch malice. Suf. No malice, Sir, no more than well becomes Suf. Why, as yourself, my Lord; Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine infolence. 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 Car. Marry, when thou dar'ft. [that. Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the matter, In thine own perfon answer thy abufe. This ev'ning on the eaft fide of the grove. 》[Afide. Had not your man put up the fowl fo fuddenly, Glo. True, uncle. [Afide to Glo. 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? *(6) Come with thy two band fward. [Afide. Glo. True, uncle, are ye did? The caft fide of the grove. Cardinal, I am with you] Thus is this whole fpeech plac'd to Glucefter, in all the editions: but furely, with great inadvertence. It is the Cardinal, who first appoints the eaft fide of the grove for the place of duel; and how finely does it exprefs the rancour and impetuofity of the Cardinal, for fear Gloucefter fhould mistake, to repeat the appointment, and afk his antagonist if he takes him right! So I have ventur'd to regulate the fpeeches; as it improves a beauty, and avoids an abfurdity. Glo. Glo. Talking of hawking; nothing elfe, my Lord.Now, by God's mother, prieft, I'll shave for this, Or all my fence fhall fail. Car. [Afide.] Medice teipfum. Protector, fee to't well, protect yourself. your crown [Afide. [Lords. K. Henry. The winds grow high, fo do your stomachs, How irksome is this mufick to my heart? When fuch ftrings jar, what hopes of harmony? 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 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. Glo. 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, and't pleafe your Grace. Wife. Ay, indeed, was he. Suf. What woman is this? Wife. His wife, and't like your worship. Go. Had'st thou been his mother, thou couldst have better told. B 2 K. Henry. K. Henry. Where wert thou born? Simp. At Berwick in the north, and't like your Grace. K. Henry. Poor foul, God's goodness hath been great to thee: Let never day or night unhallowed pafs, But ftill 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 oftner, in my fleep, By good Saint Alban; who faid, "Simpcox, come; (7) "Come offer at my fhrine, and I will help thee. Wife. Most true, forfooth; and many a time and oft Myfelf have heard a voice to call him fo. Car. What, at thou lame ? Simp. A fall off of a tree. Wife. A plumb-tree, mafter. Gle. How long haft thou been blind ? Simp. O, born fo, mafter. Glo, What, and would't climb a tree? Simp. But once in all my life, when I was a youth. Wife. Too true, and bought his climbing very dear. Go. Mafs, thou lov'dft plums well, that wouldst venture fo. Simp. Alas, good Sir, my wife defir'd some damfons, And made me climb, with danger of my life. Glo. A fubtle knave! but yet it shall not ferve (7) who faid, Simon, come; Come offer at my forine, and I will help thee.] The editions here are all at odds with the hiftory.---For why, Simen? The chronicles, that take notice of Glofter's detecting this pretended miracle, tell us, that the impoftor, who aflerted himself to be cur'd of blindness, was call'd Saunder Simpcox.---Simon was therefore a corruption thro' the negligence of the copyifts, and continued by the indolence of the editors. Nor have we need of going back to chronicles to fettle this point, fince our poet, in the course of this very fcene, gives us the fellow's names cortefpondent with the hiftory. I corrected this blunder in my SHAKESPEARE reflor'd, and Mr. Pope has vouchfaf'd to reform it trom thence in his laft impreffion. Let's Let's fee thine eyes; wink now, now open them; Simp. Yes, mafter, clear as day; I thank God and Saint Alban. Glo. Say'ft thou me fo? what colour is this cloak of? Simp. Red, mafter, red as blood. Glo. Why, that's well faid: what colour is my gown of? K. Henry. Why then thou know'ft what colour jet is of? 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 chriften If thou hadst been born blind, [dom. Thou might'ft as well know all our names, as thus Sight may diftinguish colours: But fuddenly to nominate them all, It is impoffible. My Lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle: Glo. My mafters of Saint Albans, Have you not beadles in your town, And things call'd whips? Mayor. Yes, my Lord, if it pleafe your Grace. Glo. Then fend for one prefently. Mayor. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither ftraight. [Exit Meffenger. Glo. Now fetch me a ftool hither. Now, Sirrah, if B 3 you |