Q. Margaret.
Believe me lords, for flying at the brook,
I saw no 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 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 towre so well;
They know their master loves to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his Faulcon'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 Card'nal, how think you by that?
Were it not good, your grace could fly to heav'n?

K. Henry.
The treasury of everlasting joy!

Car.
Thy heaven is on earth, thine eyes and thoughts

Bent on a crown, the treasure of thy heart:
Pernicious Protector, dangerous peer,
That smooth'st it so with King and common-weal.

Glo.
What, Card'nal! Is your priesthood grown so peremptory?
Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice.

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, Glo'ster.

K. Henry.
I pr'ythee 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 that matter,
In thine own person answer thy abuse.

Car. [Aside.
Ay, where thou dar'st not peep:
And if thou dar'st, this evening,
On the east side of the grove.

K. Henry.
How now, my lords?

Car.
Believe me, cousin Glo'ster,
Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,
We'd had more sport—Come with thy two-hand sword. [Aside to Glo.

Glo.
True, uncle, are ye advis'd?—The east side the grove:
Cardinal, I am with you. [Aside.

K. Henry.
Why how now, uncle Glo'ster?

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. [Aside.

Car. [Aside.
Protector see to't well, protect your self.

K. Henry.
The winds grow high, so do your stomachs, lords.
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. SCENE II. Enter One crying A Miracle.

Glo.
What means this noise?
Fellow, what miracle do'st 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 glorifie the lord.
What, hast thou been long blind, and now restor'd?

Simp.
Born blind, and't please your grace.

Wife.
Ay, indeed was he.

Suf.
What woman is this?

Wife.
His wife, and'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, and'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; Simon, come,
Come offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.

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

Card.
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'st plums well, that wouldst 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 seest 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 he did 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 lyingst knave in christendom.
If thou hadst been born blind,
Thou might'st as well know all our names, as thus
To know 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.

Glo.

Now fetch me a stool hither. Now Sirrah, if you mean to save your self 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, 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.

Wife.

Alas, Sir, we did it for pure need.

Glo.

Let him 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. SCENE III. Enter Buckingham.

K. Henry.
What tidings with our cousin Buckingham?

Buck.
Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold:
A sort of naughty persons, 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
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 Glo'ster.

Glo.
Ambitious church-man, leave t' 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?

Queen.
Glo'ster, see here the tainture of thy nest,
And look thy self be faultless, thou wert best.

Glo.
Madam, for me, to heav'n I do appeal,
How I have lov'd my King and common-weal:

And for my wife, I know not how it stands.
Sorry am I 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 Glo'ster'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;
And poise the cause in Justice' equal scales,
Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The Duke of York's Palace. 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 my self,
In craving your opinion of my title,
Which is infallible to England's crown.

Salis.
My lord, I long to hear it thus 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 Edward Langley, Duke of York;
The sixth, was Thomas Woodstock, Duke of Glo'ster;
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 all you know,
Harmless King Richard trait'rously was murther'd.

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 Philip, a daughter,
Who married Edmond Mortimer, Earl of March.
Edmond had issue, Roger Earl of March:
Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor,

Sal.
This Edmond, in the reign of Bolingbroke,
As I have read, laid claim unto the crown;
And, but for Owen Glendour, 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 Edmond Langley,
Edward the Third's fifth son's son;
By her I claim the kingdom.
She then was heir to Roger Earl of March,
Who was the son of Edmond Mortimer,
Who married Philip, 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 here claims it from the third.
'Till Lionel's issue fail, his should not reign;
It fails not yet, but flourisheth in thee
And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock.
Then father Salisbury kneel we together,
And in this private plot be we the first,
That shall salute our rightful Soveraign
With honour of his birth-right to the crown.

Both.
Long live our Sov'raign 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 dang'rous days,
Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence,
At Beauford'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 Humphry:
'Tis that they seek; and they in seeking that
Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesie.

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

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 my self:
Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick
The greatest man in England but the King. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Sound trumpets. Enter King Henry and state, with guard, to banish the Dutchess.

K. Henry.
Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cobham, Glo'ster's wife,
In sight of God and us your guilt is great,
Receive the sentence of the law for sin,
Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death.
You four from hence to prison, back again;
From thence unto the place of execution;
The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd 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 exile, welcome were my death.

Glo.
The law thou seest hath judg'd thee, Eleanor,

I cannot justifie, whom law condemns.
Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
Ah Humphry, this dishonour in thine age,
Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground.
I beseech your Majesty give me leave to go;
Sorrow would solace, and my age would ease.

K. Henry.
Stay Humphry, Duke of Glo'ster; 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, Humphry, 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:
God and King Henry govern England's realm:
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 willing 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 Glo'ster.

Q. Mar.
Why now is Henry King, and Marg'ret Queen.
And Humphry, Duke of Glo'ster, scarce himself,
That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once;
His lady banish'd, and a limb lopt off:
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 sprayes,
Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her younger days.

York.
Lords, let him go. Please it your Majesty,
This is the day appointed for the combat,

And ready are th' 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.
A God's name see the lists and all things fit,
Here let them end it, and God guard the right.

York.
I never saw a fellow worse bestead,
Or more afraid to fight, than is th' appellant,
The servant of the armourer, my lords. SCENE VI. 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 with a sand-bag fastned to it; and at the other door his man, with a drum and a sand-bag, and prentices drinking to him.

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 a cup of charneco.

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 the 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, if I die, I give thee my apron; and Will, thou shalt have my hammer; and here, Tom, take all the mony that I have.

O lord bless me I pray God, for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learn'd so much to 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 my self 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.

York.

Dispatch: this knave's tongue begins to double. Sound trumpets, Alarum to the combatants.

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 prevail'd in right.

K. Henry.
Go, take hence that traitor from our sight,
For by his death we do perceive his guilt.
And God in justice hath reveal'd to us
The truth and innocence of this poor fellow,
Which he had thought to murder wrongfully.
Come fellow, follow us for thy reward. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. Enter Duke Humphry and his Men, in Mourning Cloaks.

Glo.
Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud;
And after summer, evermore succeeds

The barren winter with his nipping cold;
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
Sirs, what's a clock?

Serv.
Ten, my lord.

Glo.
Ten is the hour that was appointed me,
To watch the coming of my punish'd Dutchess:
† ^noteUnneath may she endure the flinty streets,
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet.
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind a-brook
The abject people gazing on thy face,
With envious looks still laughing at thy shame,
That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels,
When thou didst ride in triumph thro' the streets.
But soft, I think she comes, and I'll prepare
My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries. Enter the Dutchess in a white Sheet, and a Taper burning in her hand, with a Sheriff and Officers.

Serv.
So please your grace, we'll take her from the Sheriff.

Glo.
No, stir not for your lives, let her pass by.

Elean.
Come you, my lord, to see my open shame?
Now thou dost penance too. Look how they gaze,
See how the giddy multitude do point,
And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee.
Ah Glo'ster, hide thee from their hateful looks,
And in thy closet pent up, rue my shame,
And ban our enemies, both mine and thine.

Glo.
Be patient, gentle Nell, forget this grief.

Elean.
Ah Glo'ster, teach me to forget my self:
For whilst I think I am thy marry'd wife,
And thou a Prince, Protector of this land;
Methinks I should not thus be led along,
Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back,

And follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice
To see my tears, and hear my deep-fetch'd groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet,
And when I start the ^{a note}cruel people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.
Ah Humphry, can I bear this shameful yoak?
Trow'st thou that e'er I'll look upon the world,
Or count them happy that enjoy the sun?
No: dark shall be my light, and night my day.
To think upon my pomp, shall be my hell.
Sometime I'll say, I am Duke Humphry's wife,
And he a Prince and ruler of the land:
Yet so he rul'd, and such a Prince he was,
That he stood by, whilst I his forlorn Dutchess
Was made a wonder and a pointing stock
To every idle, rascal follower.
But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame,
Nor stir at nothing, 'till the ax of death
Hang over thee, as sure it shortly will.
For Suffolk, (he that can do all in all
With her that hateth thee and hates us all)
And York, and impious Beauford that false priest,
Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings;
And fly thou how thou can'st they'll tangle thee:
But fear thou not until thy foot be snar'd,
Nor ever seek prevention of thy foes.

Glo.
Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimest all awry.
I must offend, before I be attainted:
And had I twenty times so many foes,
And each of them had twenty times their power,
All these could not procure me any † ^notescathe,
So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.
Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach?

Why yet thy scandal were not wip'd away,
But I in danger for the breach of law.
Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell:
I pray thee sort thy heart to patience,
These few days wonder will be quickly worn. Enter a Herald.

Her.

I summon your grace to his Majesty's parliament holden at Bury, the first of this next month.

Glo.
And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before?
This is close dealing. Well, I will be there;
My Nell, I take my leave: and master Sheriff,
Let not her penance exceed the King's commission.

Sher.
And't please your grace, here my commission stays.
And Sir John Stanley is appointed now,
To take her with him to the Isle of Man.

Glo.
Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here?

Stan.
So am I giv'n in charge, may't please your grace.

Glo.
Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray
You use her well; the world may laugh again,
And I may live to do you kindness, if
You do it her: and so, Sir John, farewel:

Elean.
What gone, my lord, and bid me not farewel?

Glo.
Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak. [Exit Gloucester.

Elean.
Art thou gone too? all comfort go with thee,
For none abides with me; my joy is death;
Death, at whose name I oft have been afraid,
Because I wish'd this world's eternity.
Stanley, I pr'ythee go and take me hence,
I care not whither, for I beg no favour;
Only convey me where thou art commanded.

Stan.
Why madam, that is to the Isle of Man,

There to be us'd according to your state.

Elean.
That's bad enough, for I am but reproach:
And shall I then be us'd reproachfully?

Stan.
No; like a Dutchess, and Duke Humphry's lady,
According to that state you shall be us'd.

Elean.
Sheriff fare well, and better than I fare,
Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.

Sher.
It is my office, madam, pardon me.

Elean.
Ay, ay, farewel, thy office is discharg'd.
Come Stanley, shall we go?

Stan.
Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet,
And go we to attire you for our journey.

Elean.
My shame will not be shifted with my sheet:
No, it will hang upon my richest robes,
And shew itself, attire me how I can.
Go, lead the way, I long to see my prison. [Exeunt.

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