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 St. 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 St. Albans, and his brethren, bearing Simpcox between two in a chair, Simpcox's wife following.

Car.
Here come the townsmen on procession,
Before your Highness to present 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 couldst 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 or night unhallowed 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; who said, Simpcox, come;
Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.

Wife.
Most true, forsooth; and many a 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 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 once 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 Sir, 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's 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.

Saunder, sit there, the lying'st knave in Christendom.

If thou had'st been born blind,
Thou might'st as well know 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?

Simp.
O master, that you could!

Glo.
My masters of Saint Albans,
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. 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.

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, see'st 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.

Wife.
Alas, Sir, we did it for pure need.

Glo.

Let them be whipt through every market town, till they come to Berwick, from whence they came.

Car.
Duke Humphry 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.

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