Internet Shakespeare Editions

Toolbox




Jump to line
Help on texts

About this text

  • Title: Henry VI, Part 2 (Quarto 1, 1594)

  • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Henry VI, Part 2 (Quarto 1, 1594)

    Houses, of Yorke and Lancaster.
    866.1Poore man. No truly sir.
    Humphrey Nor his name?
    Poore man No indeed maister.
    Humphrey Whats thine owne name?
    Poore man. Sander, and it please you maister.
    870Humphrey. Then Sander sit there, the lyingest knaue in Chri-
    stendom. If thou hadst bene born blind, thou mightest as well haue
    knowne all our names, as thus to name the seuerall colours we doo
    875weare. Sight may distinguish of colours, but sodeinly to nominate
    them all, it is impossible. My Lords, saint Albones here hath done a
    Miracle, and would you not thinke his cunning to be great, that
    880could restore this Cripple to his legs againe.
    Poore man. Oh maister I would you could.
    Humphrey. My Maisters of saint Albones,
    Haue you not Beadles in your Towne,
    And things called whippes?
    885Mayor. Yes my Lord, if it please your grace.
    Humph. Then send for one presently.
    Mayor. Sirrha, go fetch the Beadle hither straight.
    Exet one.
    Humph. Now fetch me a stoole hither by and by.
    890Now sirrha, If you meane to saue your selfe from whipping,
    Leape me ouer this stoole and runne away.
    Enter Beadle.
    Poore man. Alasse maister I am not able to stand alone,
    You go about to torture me in vaine.
    895Humph. Well sir, we must haue you finde your legges.
    Sirrha Beadle, whip him till he leape ouer that same stoole.
    Beadle. I will my Lord, come on sirrha, off with your doublet
    quickly.
    900Poore man. Alas maister what shall I do, I am not able to stand.
    After the Beadle hath hit him one girke, he leapes ouer
    the stoole and runnes away, and they run after him,
    crying, A miracle, a miracle.
    Hump. A miracle, a miracle, let him be taken againe, & whipt
    910through euery Market Towne til he comes at Barwicke where he
    910.1was borne.
    Mayor. It shall be done my Lord. Exet Mayor.
    C3 Suffolke