Act II, Scene i

[Enter the KING, QUEEN, GLOSTER, CARDINAL, and SUFFOLK,with FALCONERS halloing.]

QUEEN.:

Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,

I saw not 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.

KING.:

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 are fain of climbing high.

SUFFOLK.:

No marvel, an it like your majesty,

My lord protector's hawks do tower so well;

They know their master loves to be aloft,

And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.

GLOSTER.:

My lord, 't is but a base ignoble mind

That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

CARDINAL.:

I thought as much; he would be above the clouds.

GLOSTER.:

Ay, my lord cardinal? how think you by that?

Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven?

KING.:

The treasury of everlasting joy.

CARDINAL.:

Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts

Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart,

Pernicious protector, dangerous peer,

That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal.

GLOSTER.:

What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown peremptory?

Tantaene animis coelestibus irae?

Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice;

With such holiness can you do it?

SUFFOLK.:

No malice, sir; no more than well becomes

So good a quarrel and so bad a peer.

GLOSTER.:

As who, my lord?

SUFFOLK.:

Why, as you, my lord,

An 't like your lordly lord-protectorship.

GLOSTER.:

Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.

QUEEN.:

And thy ambition, Gloster.

KING.:

I prithee, peace, good queen,

And whet not on these furious peers;

For blessed are the peacemakers on earth.

CARDINAL.:

Let me be blessed for the peace I make

Against this proud protector, with my sword!

GLOSTER.:

[Aside to Cardinal.] Faith, holy uncle, would 't

were come to that!

CARDINAL.:

[Aside to Gloster.] Marry, when thou dar'st.

GLOSTER.:

[Aside to Cardinal.] Make up no factious numbers

for the matter;

In thine own person answer thy abuse.

CARDINAL.:

[Aside to Gloster.] Ay, where thou dar'st not peep;

an if thou dar'st,

This evening, on the east side of the grove.

KING.:

How now, my lords!

CARDINAL.:

Believe me, cousin Gloster,

Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,

We had had more sport.—[Aside to Gloster.]Come with thy

two-hand sword.

GLOSTER.:

True, uncle.

CARDINAL.:

[Aside to Gloster.] Are ye advis'd? the east side

of the grove?

GLOSTER.:

[Aside to CARDINAL.] Cardinal, I am with you.

KING.:

Why, how now, uncle Gloster!

GLOSTER.:

Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord.—

[Aside to Cardinal.] Now, by God's mother, priest,

I'll shave your crown for this,

Or all my fence shall fail.

CARDINAL.:

[Aside to Gloster.] Medice, teipsum—

Protector, see to 't well, protect yourself.

KING.:

The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords.

How irksome is this music to my heart!

When such strings jar, what hope of harmony?

I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife.

[Enter a Townsman of Saint Alban's, crying 'A miracle!']

GLOSTER.:

What means this noise?

Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?

TOWNSMAN.:

A miracle! A miracle!

SUFFOLK.:

Come to the king, and tell him what miracle.

TOWNSMAN.:

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.

KING.:

Now, God be prais'd, that to believing souls

Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!

[Enter the Mayor of Saint Alban's and his brethren,bearing SIMPCOX, between two in a chair, SIMPCOX'sWife following.]

CARDINAL.:

Here comes the townsmen on procession,

To present your highness with the man.

KING HENRY.:

Great is his comfort in this earthly vale,

Although by his sight his sin be multiplied.

GLOSTER.:

Stand by, my masters.

Bring him near the king;

His highness' pleasure is to talk with him.

KING.:

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?

SIMPCOX.:

Born blind, an 't please your grace.

WIFE.:

Ay indeed was he.

SUFFOLK.:

What woman is this?

WIFE.:

His wife, an 't like your worship.

GLOSTER.:

Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst

have better told.

KING.:

Where wert thou born?

SIMPCOX.:

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

KING.:

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?

SIMPCOX.:

God knows, of pure devotion; being call'd

A hundred times and oftener, 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 time and oft

Myself have heard a voice to call him so.

CARDINAL.:

What, art thou lame?

SIMPCOX.:

Ay, God Almighty help me!

SUFFOLK.:

How cam'st thou so?

SIMPCOX.:

A fall off of a tree.

WIFE.:

A plum-tree, master.

GLOSTER.:

How long hast thou been blind?

SIMPCOX.:

O, born so, master!

GLOSTER.:

What, and wouldst climb a tree?

SIMPCOX.:

But that in all my life, when I was a youth.

WIFE.:

Too true; and bought his climbing very dear.

GLOSTER.:

Mass, thou lov'dst plums well that wouldst venture so.

SIMPCOX.:

Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some damsons,

And made me climb, with danger of my life.

GLOSTER.:

A subtle knave! but yet it shall not serve.—

Let me see thine eyes.—Wink now;—now open them.

In my opinion yet thou seest not well.

SIMPCOX.:

Yes, master, clear as day, I thank God and Saint Alban.

GLOSTER.:

Say'st thou me so? What colour is this cloak of?

SIMPCOX.:

Red, master, red as blood.

GLOSTER.:

Why, that's well said. What colour is my gown of?

SIMPCOX.:

Black, forsooth, coal-black as jet.

KING.:

Why, then, thou know'st what colour jet is of?

SUFFOLK.:

And yet, I think, jet did he never see.

GLOSTER.:

But cloaks and gowns before this day, a many.

WIFE.:

Never before this day in all his life.

GLOSTER.:

Tell me, sirrah, what's my name?

SIMPCOX.:

Alas, master, I know not.

GLOSTER.:

What's his name?

SIMPCOX.:

I know not.

GLOSTER.:

Nor his?

SIMPCOX.:

No, indeed, master.

GLOSTER.:

What's thine own name?

SIMPCOX.:

Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, master.

GLOSTER.:

Then, Saunder, sit there, the lyingest knave in

Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou mightst as well

have known all our names as thus to name the several colours we

do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours; but suddenly to

nominate them all, it is impossible.—My lords, Saint Alban here

hath done a miracle; and would ye not think his cunning to be

great that could restore this cripple to his legs again?

SIMPCOX.:

O master, that you could!

GLOSTER.:

My masters of Saint Alban's, have you not beadles in

your town, and things called whips?

MAYOR.:

Yes, my lord, if it please your grace.

GLOSTER.:

Then send for one presently.

MAYOR.:

Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight.

[Exit an Attendant.]

GLOSTER.:

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.

SIMPCOX.:

Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone;

You go about to torture me in vain.

[Enter a Beadle with whips.]

GLOSTER.:

Well, sir, we must have you find your legs.—

Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over that same stool.

BEADLE.:

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

quickly.

SIMPCOX.:

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

[After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps overthe stool and runs away; and they follow and cry,'A miracle!']

KING.:

O God, seest Thou this, and bearest so long?

QUEEN.:

It made me laugh to see the villain run.

GLOSTER.:

Follow the knave, and take this drab away.

WIFE.:

Alas, sir, we did it for pure need!

GLOSTER.:

Let them be whipped through every market-town

till they come to Berwick, from whence they came.

[Exeunt Wife, Beadle, Mayor, etc.]

CARDINAL.:

Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day.

SUFFOLK.:

True; made the lame to leap and fly away.

GLOSTER.:

But you have done more miracles than I;

You made in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly.

[Enter BUCKINGHAM.]

KING.:

What tidings with our cousin Buckingham?

BUCKINGHAM.:

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 ringleader 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 underground,

Demanding of King Henry's life and death,

And other of your highness' privy-council,

As more at large your Grace shall understand.

CARDINAL.:

[Aside to Gloster.] And so, my lord protector,

by this means

Your lady is forthcoming yet at London.

This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's edge;

'T is like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.

GLOSTER.:

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.

KING.:

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.

GLOSTER.:

Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal,

How I have lov'd my king and commonweal;

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 dishonoured Gloster's honest name.

KING.:

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.

[Flourish. Exeunt.]