Q. Mar.
Believe me, lords, ^{9 note}for flying at the brook,
I saw not better sport these seven years' day:
Yet, by your leave, ^{1 note}

K. Henry.
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^{2 note}

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^{3 note}

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. Henry.
The treasury of everlasting joy!

Car.
Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts
^{4 note}

Glo.
What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown so peremptory?
Tantæne animis cælestibus iræ?
Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice;
^{5 note}

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 yourself, my lord;
An't like your lordly lord-protectorship.

Glo.
Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.

Q. Mar.
And thy ambition, Gloster.

K. Henry.
I prythee, peace, good queen;
And whet not on these too too 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. Aside.
Faith, holy uncle, 'would 'twere come to that.

Car. Aside.
Marry, when thou dar'st.

Glo. Aside.
Make up no factious numbers for the matter,
In thine own person answer thy abuse.

Car. Aside.
Ay, where thou dar'st not peep: an if thou dar'st,
This evening, on the east side of the grove.

K. Henry.
How now, my lords?

Car.
Believe me, cousin Gloster,
Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,
We'd had had more sport.—^{6 note}

Glo.
True, uncle.
Are you advis'd?—the east side of the grove?

Cardinal, I am with you. [Aside.

K. Henry.
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 my fence shall fail^{7 note}
. [Aside.

Car. [aside]
Medice, teipsum;
Protector, see to't well, protect yourself.

K. Henry.
The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords.
How irksome is this music to my heart!
When such strings jar, what hopes of harmony?
I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife. Enter one, crying, A miracle!

Glo.
What means this noise?
Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?

One.
A miracle! a miracle!

Suf.
Come to the king, and tell him what miracle.

One.
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. Henry.
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, bearing Simpcox between two in a chair, Simpcox's wife following.

Car.
Here come the townsmen on procession,
To present your highness with the man.

K. Henry.
Great is his comfort in this earthly vale,
Though by his sight his sin be multiply'd.

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

K. Henry.
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.
Had'st thou been his mother, thou could'st have better told.

K. Henry.
Where wert thou born?

Simp.
At Berwick in the north, an't like your grace.

K. Henry.
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.

Queen.
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; ^{8 note}

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 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.

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. Henry.
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 there, the lyingest knave
In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind,
Thou might'st as well have known all our names, as thus
To name the several colours we do wear.
Sight may distinguish colours; but suddenly
To nominate them all, it is impossible.—
My lords, saint Alban here hath done a miracle;
Would ye not think that cunning to be great,
That could restore this cripple to his legs again?

Simp.
O, master, that you could!

Glo.
My masters of saint Alban's,
Have you not beadles in your town, and things
Call'd whips?

Mayor.
Yes, my lord, if it please your grace.

Glo.

Then send for one presently.

Mayor.
Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight. [Exit Messenger.

Glo.

Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping, leap me over this stool, and run away.

Simp.
Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone:
You go about to torture me in vain. Enter a Beadle, with whips.

Glo.

Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. Sirrah beadle, whip him 'till he leap over that same stool.

Bead.

I will, my lord.—Come on, sirrah; off with your doublet quickly.

Simp.

Alas, master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand.

K. Henry.
O God, seest thou this, and bear'st so long?

Queen.
It made me laugh, to see the villain run.

Glo.
Follow the knave; and take this drab away.

Wif.
Alas, sir, we did it for pure need.

Glo.
Let them be whipt through every market town
Until they come to Berwick, whence they came. [Exit Beadle, with the woman, &c.

Car.
Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to day.

Suf.
True; made the lame to leap, and fly away.

Glo.
But you have done more miracles than I;
You made, in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly. Enter Buckingham.

K. Henry.
What tidings with our cousin Buckingham?

Buck.
Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold.
A sort of naughty persons, ^{9 note}lewdly bent,—
Under the countenance and confederacy
Of lady Eleanor, the protector's wife,
The ring-leader and head of all this rout,—
Have practis'd dangerously against your state,
Dealing with witches, and with conjurers:
Whom we have apprehended in the fact;
Raising up wicked spirits from under ground,
Demanding of king Henry's life and death,
And other of your highness' privy council,
As more at large your grace shall understand.

Car.
And so, my lord protector, by this means
^{1 note}Your lady is forth-coming yet at London.
This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's edge;
'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour. [Aside to Gloster.

Glo.
Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart!

Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers;
And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee,
Or to the meanest groom.

K. Henry.
O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones;
Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby!

Queen.
Gloster, see here the tainture of thy nest;
And, look, thyself be faultless, thou wert best.

Glo.
Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal,
How I have lov'd my king, and common-weal:
And, for my wife, I know not how it stands;
Sorry I am to hear what I have heard:
Noble she is; but, if she have forgot
Honour, and virtue, and convers'd with such
As, like to pitch, defile nobility,
I banish her, my bed, and company;
And give her, as a prey, to law, and shame,
That hath dishonour'd Gloster's honest name.

K. Henry.
Well, for this night, we will repose us here:
To-morrow, toward London, back again,
To look into this business thoroughly,
And call these foul offenders to their answers;
^{2 note}


And poise the cause in justice' equal scales,
Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. [Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE II. The duke of York's garden. Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick.

York.
Now, my good lords of Salisbury and Warwick,
Our simple supper ended, give me leave,
In this close walk, to satisfy myself,
^{3 note}
In craving your opinion of my title,
Which is infallible, to England's crown.

Sal.
My lord, I long to hear it at full.

War.
Sweet York, begin: and if thy claim be good,
The Nevils are thy subjects to command.

York.
Then thus:—
Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons:
The first, Edward the Black Prince, prince of Wales;
The second, William of Hatfield; and the third,
Lionel, duke of Clarence; next to whom,
Was John of Gaunt, the duke of Lancaster:
The fifth, was Edmund Langley, duke of York;
The sixth, was Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloster;
William of Windsor was the seventh, and last.
Edward, the Black Prince, dy'd before his father;
And left behind him Richard, his only son,
Who, after Edward the Third's death, reign'd king;
'Till Henry Bolingbroke, duke of Lancaster,
The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt,
Crown'd by the name of Henry the fourth,
Seiz'd on the realm; depos'd the rightful king;
Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came,

And him to Pomfret; where, as both you know,
Harmless Richard was murder'd traiterously.

War.
Father, the duke hath told the truth;
Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown.

York.
Which now they hold by force, and not by right;
For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead,
The issue of the next son should have reign'd.

Sal.
But William of Hatfield dy'd without an heir.

York.
The third son, duke of Clarence, (from whose line
I claim the crown) had issue—Philippe, a daughter,
Who married Edmund Mortimer, earl of March.
Edmund had issue—Roger, earl of March:
Roger had issue—Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor.

Sal.
This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke,
As I have read, laid claim unto the crown;
And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king,
Who kept him in captivity, 'till he dy'd.
But, to the rest.

York.
His eldest sister, Anne,
My mother, being heir unto the crown,
Married Richard, earl of Cambridge; who was son
To Edmund Langley, Edward the third's fifth son.
By her I claim the kingdom: she then was heir
To Roger, earl of March; who was the son
Of Edmund Mortimer; who married Philippe,
Sole daughter unto Lionel, duke of Clarence:
So, if the issue of the elder son
Succeed before the younger, I am king.

War.
What plain proceeding is more plain than this?
Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt,
The fourth son; York claimeth it from the third.
'Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign:
It fails not yet; but flourishes in thee,
And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock.—
Then, father Salisbury, kneel we both together;

And, in this private plot, be we the first,
That shall salute our rightful sovereign
With honour of his birth-right to the crown.

Both.
Long live our sovereign Richard, England's king!

York.
We thank you, lords. But I am not your king
'Till I be crown'd; and that my sword be stain'd
With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster:
And that's not suddenly to be perform'd;
But with advice, and silent secrecy.
Do you, as I do, in these dangerous days,
Wink at the duke of Suffolk's insolence,
At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition,
At Buckingham, and all the crew of them,
'Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock,
That virtuous prince, the good duke Humphrey:
'Tis that they seek; and they, in seeking that,
Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy.

Sal.
My lord, break we off; we know your mind at full.

War.
My heart assures me, that the earl of Warwick
Shall one day make the duke of York a king.

York.
And, Nevil, this I do assure myself,—
Richard shall live to make the earl of Warwick
The greatest man in England, but the king. [Exeunt. SCENE III. A hall of justice. Sound trumpets. Enter king Henry, queen Margaret, Gloster, York, Suffolk, and Salisbury; the Dutchess, mother Jourdain, Southwel, Hume, and Bolingbroke, under guard.

K. Henry.
Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloster's wife:

In sight of God, and us, your guilt is great;
Receive the sentence of the law, for sins
Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death.—
You four, from hence to prison back again; [To the other prisoners.
From thence, unto the place of execution:
The witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes,
And you three shall be strangled on the gallows.—
You, madam, for you are more nobly born,
Despoiled of your honour in your life,
Shall, after three days open penance done,
Live in your country here, in banishment,
With sir John Stanley, in the isle of Man.

Elean.
Welcome is banishment, welcome were my death.

Glo.
Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged thee;
I cannot justify whom the law condemns.— [Exeunt Eleanor, and the others, guarded.
Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age
Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground!—
I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go;
^{4 note}Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease.

K. Henry.
Stay, Humphrey duke of Gloster: ere thou go,
Give up thy staff; Henry will to himself
Protector be; and God shall be my hope,
My stay, my guide, and lanthorn to my feet:
And go in peace, Humphrey; no less belov'd,
Than when thou wert protector to thy king.

Q. Mar.
I see no reason, why a king of years
Should be to be protected like a child.—
^{5 note}

Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm.

Glo.
My staff?—here, noble Henry, is my staff:
As willingly do I the same resign,
As e'er thy father Henry made it mine;
And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it,
As others would ambitiously receive it.
Farewel, good king: When I am dead and gone,
May honourable peace attend thy throne! [Exit Gloster.

Q. Mar.
Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret queen;
And Humphrey, duke of Gloster, scarce himself,
That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once,—
His lady banish'd, and a limb lopp'd off.
^{6 note}


This staff of honour raught:—There let it stand,
Where best it fits to be, in Henry's hand.

Suf.
Thus droops this lofty pine, and hangs his sprays;
Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days.

York.
^{7 note}Lords, let him go.—Please it your majesty,
This is the day appointed for the combat;
And ready are the appellant and defendant,
The armourer and his man, to enter the lists,
So please your highness to behold the fight.

Q. Mar.
Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore

Left I the court, to see this quarrel try'd.

K. Henry.
O' God's name, see the lists and all things fit;
Here let them end it, and God defend the right!

York.
I never saw a fellow ^{8 note}worse bested,
Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant,
The servant of this armourer, my lords. Enter at one door the armourer and his neighbours, drinking to him so much that he is drunk; and he enters with a drum before him, and his staff ^{9 note}

1 Neigh.

Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack; And fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough.

2 Neigh.

And here, neighbour, here's ^{1 note}

3 Neigh.

And here's a pot of good double beer, neighbour: drink, and fear not your man.

Arm.

Let it come, i'faith, and I'll pledge you all; And a fig for Peter!

1 Pren.

Here, Peter, I drink to thee; and be not afraid.

2 Pren.

Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master: fight for credit of the prentices.

Peter.

I thank you all: drink, and pray for me, I pray you; for, I think, I have taken my last draught in this world.—Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron;—and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer: —and here, Tom, take all the money that I have.— O Lord, bless me, I pray God! for I am never able

to deal with my master, he hath learnt so much fence already.

Sal.

Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows.— Sirrah, what's thy name?

Peter.

Peter, forsooth.

Sal.

Peter! what more?

Peter.

Thump.

Sal.

Thump! then see thou thump thy master well.

Arm.

Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's instigation, to prove him a knave, and myself an honest man: and touching the duke of York,— I will take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor the king, nor the queen; And therefore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow, ^{1 note}

York.
Dispatch:—^{2 note}

Arm.

Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason.

York.

Take away his weapon:—Fellow, thank God, and the good wine in thy master's way.

Peter.
O God! have I overcome mine enemy in this presence?
O Peter, thou hast prevailed in right!

K. Henry.
Go, take hence that traitor from our sight;
For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt^{3 note}:
And God, in justice, hath reveal'd to us
The truth and innocence of this poor fellow,
Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully.—
Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The street. Enter duke Humphrey, and his men, in mourning cloaks.

Glo.
Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest day a cloud;
And, after summer, evermore succeeds
Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold:
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet^{4 note}

.—
Sirs, what's o'clock?

Serv.
Ten, my lord.

Glo.
Ten is the hour that was appointed me,
To watch the coming of my punish'd dutchess:

^{5 note}