Henry VI, Part 2 (Folio 1, 1623)
Not Peer Reviewed
715
Enter the King, Queene, Protector, Cardinall, and
¶Suffolke, with Faulkners hallowing.
¶Queene. Beleeue me Lords, for flying at the Brooke,
¶Yet by your leaue, the Winde was very high,
720And ten to one, old Ioane had not gone out.
¶King. But what a point, my Lord, your Faulcon made,
¶To see how God in all his Creatures workes,
¶Yea Man and Birds are fayne of climbing high.
¶My Lord Protectors Hawkes doe towre so well,
¶They know their Master loues to be aloft,
¶And beares his thoughts aboue his Faulcons Pitch.
730That mounts no higher then a Bird can sore:
¶Card. I thought as much, hee would be aboue the
¶Clouds.
¶Glost. I my Lord Cardinall, how thinke you by that?
¶Were it not good your Grace could flye to Heauen?
¶Card. Thy Heauen is on Earth, thine Eyes & Thoughts
¶Beat on a Crowne, the Treasure of thy Heart,
¶Pernitious Protector, dangerous Peere,
740Glost. What, Cardinall?
¶Is your Priest-hood growne peremptorie?
¶Good Vnckle hide such mallice:
745Suff. No mallice Sir, no more then well becomes
¶So good a Quarrell, and so bad a Peere.
¶Glost. As who, my Lord?
¶Suff. Why, as you, my Lord,
¶An't like your Lordly Lords Protectorship.
¶King. I prythee peace, good Queene,
¶And whet not on these furious Peeres,
¶Against this prowd Protector with my Sword.
¶Glost. Faith holy Vnckle, would't were come to that.
¶Glost. Make vp no factious numbers for the matter,
¶And if thou dar'st, this Euening,
¶King. How now, my Lords?
¶We had had more sport.
¶Come with thy two-hand Sword.
¶Glost. True Vnckle, are ye aduis'd?
¶Cardinall, I am with you.
¶Now by Gods Mother, Priest,
775Ile shaue your Crowne for this,
¶Or all my Fence shall fayle.
¶your selfe.
¶King. The Windes grow high,
780So doe your Stomacks, Lords:
¶When such Strings iarre, what hope of Harmony?
¶I pray my Lords let me compound this strife.
¶
Enter one crying a Miracle.
¶Fellow, what Miracle do'st thou proclayme?
¶One. A Miracle, a Miracle.
¶Suffolke. Come to the King, and tell him what Mi-
¶racle.
¶Within this halfe houre hath receiu'd his sight,
¶A man that ne're saw in his life before.
¶King. Now God be prays'd, that to beleeuing Soules
795
Enter the Maior of Saint Albones, and his Brethren,
¶bearing the man betweene two in a Chayre.
¶King. Great is his comfort in this Earthly Vale,
¶That we for thee may glorifie the Lord.
¶Wife. I indeede was he.
¶Suff. What Woman is this?
¶better told.
¶King. Where wert thou borne?
¶Simpc. At Barwick in the North, and't like your
¶Grace.
815King. Poore Soule,
¶But still remember what the Lord hath done.
¶Queene. Tell me, good-fellow,
820Cam'st thou here by Chance, or of Deuotion,
¶To this holy Shrine?
¶Simpc. God knowes of pure Deuotion,
¶Being call'd a hundred times, and oftner,
¶In my sleepe, by good Saint Albon:
825Who said; Symon, come; come offer at my Shrine,
¶And I will helpe thee.
¶And many time and oft my selfe haue heard a Voyce,
¶To call him so.
830Card. What, art thou lame?
¶Simpc. I, God Almightie helpe me.
¶Simpc. A fall off of a Tree.
¶Simpc. But that in all my life, when I was a youth.
¶Wife. Too true, and bought his climbing very deare.
¶venture so.
¶Damsons, and made me climbe, with danger of my
¶Life.
¶Let me see thine Eyes; winck now, now open them,
¶Saint Albones.
¶of?
¶Gowne of?
¶of?
¶Glost. But Cloakes and Gownes, before this day, a
860many.
¶Wife. Neuer before this day, in all his life.
¶Glost. Tell me Sirrha, what's my Name?
¶Glost. What's his Name?
865Simpc. I know not.
¶Glost. Nor his?
¶Glost. What's thine owne Name?
¶If thou hadst beene borne blinde,
¶Thou might'st as well haue knowne all our Names,
¶As thus to name the seuerall Colours we doe weare.
¶But suddenly to nominate them all,
¶My Lords, Saint Albone here hath done a Miracle:
¶And would ye not thinke it, Cunning to be great,
880That could restore this Cripple to his Legges againe.
¶Haue you not Beadles in your Towne,
¶And Things call'd Whippes?
¶
Exit.
¶Glost. Now fetch me a Stoole hither by and by.
¶ping, leape me ouer this Stoole, and runne away.
¶You goe about to torture me in vaine.
¶
Enter a Beadle with Whippes.
¶Sirrha Beadle, whippe him till he leape ouer that same
¶Stoole.
¶Beadle. I will, my Lord.
¶Come on Sirrha, off with your Doublet, quickly.
¶stand.
¶
After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leapes ouer
¶Glost. Follow the Knaue, and take this Drab away.
¶Wife. Alas Sir, we did it for pure need.
¶Glost. Let thẽ be whipt through euery Market Towne,
910Till they come to Barwick, from whence they came.
¶
Exit.
¶Card. Duke Humfrey ha's done a Miracle to day.
¶Suff. True: made the Lame to leape and flye away.
¶Glost. But you haue done more Miracles then I:
915You made in a day, my Lord, whole Townes to flye.
¶
Enter Buckingham.
¶Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to vnfold:
920Vnder the Countenance and Confederacie
¶Of Lady Elianor, the Protectors Wife,
¶The Ring-leader and Head of all this Rout,
¶Dealing with Witches and with Coniurers,
925Whom we haue apprehended in the Fact,
¶Raysing vp wicked Spirits from vnder ground,
¶Demanding of King Henries Life and Death,
¶Your Lady is forth-comming, yet at London.
¶This Newes I thinke hath turn'd your Weapons edge;
¶'Tis like, my Lord, you will not keepe your houre.
¶Glost. Ambitious Church-man, leaue to afflict my heart:
935Sorrow and griefe haue vanquisht all my powers;
¶And vanquisht as I am, I yeeld to thee,
¶Or to the meanest Groome.
¶Heaping confusion on their owne heads thereby.
¶How I haue lou'd my King, and Common-weale:
¶And for my Wife, I know not how it stands,
945Sorry I am to heare what I haue heard.
¶Honor and Vertue, and conuers't with such,
¶As like to Pytch, defile Nobilitie;
¶I banish her my Bed, and Companie,
950And giue her as a Prey to Law and Shame,
¶To morrow toward London, back againe,
