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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 could fly to heaven?

* K. Hen. The treasury of everlasting joy! Car. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and

thoughts • Beat on a crown*, 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

peremptory? * Tautæne animis coelestibus iræ? • 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 inso

lence. Q. Mar. And thy ambition, Gloster. K. Hen.

I pr’ythee, peace,

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4 i.e. thy mind is working on a crown. So, in The Tempest, Miranda says:

• For still 'tis beating in my mind.' Act i. Sc. 2. And Prospero:

* Do not infest your mind with beating on
The strangeness of this business.' Act v. Sc. I.

Good queen; and whet not on these furious peers, For blessed are the peacemakers 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. Car. Marry, when thou dar’st. [Aside. * Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the matter, • In thine own person answer thy abuse.

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


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. Car.

• This evening on the east side of the grove. [Aside. K. Hen. How now, my lords?

Believe me, cousin Gloster, • Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, • We had had more sport.—Come with thy twohand-sword.

[Aside to Glo. Glo. True, uncle. Car. Are


advis'd?—the east side of the grove? Glo. Cardinal, I am with you.

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

.Glo. Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord.— Now, by God's mother, priest, I'll shave your crown

for this, * Or all

fence? shall fail.


· Protector, see tot well, protect yourself.} [Aside.

K. Hen. The winds grow high; so do your sto

machs, lords.

5 Vide St. Matthew, v. 9.

6 The two-hand-sword' was sometimes called the long sword, and in common use before the introduction of the rapier. Justice Shallow, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, boasts of the exploits he had performed in his youth with this instrument. In the original play the Cardinal desires Gloster to bring his sword and buckler.

? Fence is the art of defence.

* How irksome is this musick to my heart!
* When such strings jar, what hope of harmony?
* I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife.

Enter an Inhabitant of Saint Albans, crying,

A Miracle 8!
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 circum


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8 This scene is founded on a story which Sir Thomas More has related, and which he says was communicated to him by his father. The impostor's name is not mentioned; but he was detected by Humphrey Duke of Gloster, and in the manner here represented. See More's Works, p. 134, Edit. 1557.

* 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. Had'st thou been his mother, thou could'st

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

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 callid « 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

Myself have heard a voice to call him so.
Car. What, art thou lame?

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

A fall off a tree.
Wife. A plum-tree, master.

How long hast thou been blind?
Simp. 0, born so, master.

What, and would'st 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

would'st venture so.

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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 me 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


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.

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