K. Henry. Where wert thou born? Simp. At Berwick in the north, and't like your Grace. K. Henry. Poor foul, God's goodnefs hath been great to thee: Let never day or night unhallowed pafs, But ftill remember what the Lord hath done. Queen. Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here by Or of devotion, to this holy fhrine ? [chance, Simp. God knows, of pure devotion; being call'd A hundred times and oftener, in my fleep, By good Saint Alban; who faid, "Simpcox, come; (7) "Come offer at my fhrine, and I will help thee." Wife. Molt true, forfooth, and many a time and oft Myfelf have heard a voice to call him fo. Car. What, art thou lame? Simp. Ay, God Almighty help me! Simp. A fall off a tree. Wife. A plumb-tree, mafter. Glo. How long haft thou been blind? Simp. O, born so, master. Glo. What, and would't 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. Mafs, thou lov'dft plums well, that wouldft venture fo. Simp. Alas, good Sir, my wife defir'd some damsons, And made me climb, with danger of my life. Glo. A fubtle knave! but yet it fhall not ferve: (7)--who faid, Simon, come; Come offer at my fhrine, and I will help thee.] The editions here are all at odds with the hiftory.-For why, Simon? The chronicles, that take notice of Glo'fter's detecting this pretended miracle, tell us, that the impoftor, who afferted himself to be cur'd of blindness, was call'd Saunder Simpcox.-Simon was therefore a corruption thro' the negligence of the copyifts, and continued by the indolence of the editors. Nor have we need of going back to chronicles to fettle this point, fince our poet, in the courfe of this very fcene, gives us the fellow's names correspondent with the hiftory. I corrected this blunder in my SHAKESPEARE reftor'd, and Mr. Pope has vouchfafed to reform it From thence in his laft impreffion. Let's Let's fee thine eyes; wink now, now open them; Simp. Yes, mafter, clear as day; I thank God and Saint Alban. Glo. Say'ft thou me fo? what colour is this cloak of? Glo. Why, that's well faid: what colour is my gown of? K. Henry. Why then thou know'ft what colour jet is of? 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. If thou hadst been born blind, [dom. Thou might'ft as well know all our names, as thus Sight may diftinguish colours: But fuddenly to nominate them all, It is impoffible. My Lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle: Glo. My mafters of Saint Albans, Have you not beadles in your town, And things called whips? Mayor. Yes, my Lord, if it please your Grace. Mayor. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither ftraight. [Exit Mefenger. Glo. Now fetch me a ftool hither. Now, Sirrah, if you mean to fave yourself from whipping, leap me over this flool, and run away. Simp. Alas, mafter, I am not able to stand alone: you go about to torture me in vain. Enter a Beadle with whips. Glo. Well, Sir, we must have you find your legs. Sirrah, beadle, whip him till he leap over that fame ftool. Bead. I will, my Lord. Come on, Sirrah, off with your doublet quickly. Simp. Alas, mafter, what fhall I do? I am not able to ftand. [After the beadle bath hit him once, he leaps over the ftool and runs away; and they follow and cry, A miracle! K. Henry. O God, feeft thou this, and bear'ft fo long! Queen. It made me laugh to fee 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. [Exit Beadle, with the Woman. 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. Enter Buckingham. K. Henry. What tidings with our coufin Buckingham? Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold: A fort of naughty perfons, lewdly bent, Under the countenance and confederacy And And other of your Highnefs' privy-council, Car. And fo, 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. [Afide to Glo'fter. Glo. Ambitious church-man! leave t'afflict my heart: Sorrow and grief have vanquifh'd all my powers; And vanquifh'd as I am, I yield to thee, Or to the meanest groom. K. Henry. O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones, Heaping confulion on their own heads thereby! Queen. Glofter, fee here the tainture of thy neft, I banish her my bed and company: And give her as a prey to law and shame, K. Henry. Well, for this night we will repofe us here; To-morrow toward London back again, To look into this bufinefs thoroughly, And call these foul offenders to their anfwers; Whofe beam ftands fure, whofe rightful caufe prevails. [Flourish. Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Duke of York's Palace. Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick. York. Our maple fupper ended, give me leave, YOW, my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick, In this clofe walk to fatisfy myself; B 4 Which Which it is infallible, to England's crown. Sal. My Lord, I long to hear it thus at full. War. Sweet York, begin; and if thy claim be good, The Nevils are thy fubjects to command. York. Then thus; Edward the third, my Lords, had seven sons : The first, Edward the black Prince, Prince of Wales ; Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster; York. Which now they hold by force, and not by right; For Richard the firft fon's heir being dead, The issue of the next fon fhould have reign'd. Sal. But William of Hatfield dy'd without an heir. Sal. This Edmond, in the reign of Bolingbroke, York. His eldeft fifter, Anne, My |