Shakespeare's First Folio Part 369

Card. Thy Heauen is on Earth, thine Eyes & Thoughts Beat on a Crowne, the Treasure of thy Heart, Pernitious Protector, dangerous Peere, That smooth'st it so with King and Common-weale

Glost. What, Cardinall?

Is your Priest-hood growne peremptorie?

Tantaene animis Coelestibus irae, Church-men so hot?

Good Vnckle hide such mallice: With such Holynesse can you doe it?

Suff. 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

Glost. Why Suffolke, England knowes thine insolence

Queene. And thy Ambition, Gloster

King. I prythee peace, good Queene, And whet not on these furious Peeres, For blessed are the Peace-makers on Earth

Card. Let me be blessed for the Peace I make Against this prowd Protector with my Sword

Glost. Faith holy Vnckle, would't were come to that

Card. Marry, when thou dar'st

Glost. Make vp no factious numbers for the matter, In thine owne person answere thy abuse

Card. I, where thou dar'st not peepe: And if thou dar'st, this Euening, On the East side of the Groue

King. How now, my Lords?

Card. Beleeue me, Cousin Gloster, Had not your man put vp the Fowle so suddenly, We had had more sport.

Come with thy two-hand Sword

Glost. True Vnckle, are ye aduis'd?

The East side of the Groue: Cardinall, I am with you

King. Why how now, Vnckle Gloster?

Glost. Talking of Hawking; nothing else, my Lord.

Now by G.o.ds Mother, Priest, Ile shaue your Crowne for this, Or all my Fence shall fayle

Card. Medice teipsum, Protector see to't well, protect your selfe

King. The Windes grow high, So doe your Stomacks, Lords: How irkesome is this Musick to my heart?

When such Strings iarre, what hope of Harmony?

I pray my Lords let me compound this strife.

Enter one crying a Miracle

Glost. What meanes this noyse?

Fellow, what Miracle do'st thou proclayme?

One. A Miracle, a Miracle

Suffolke. Come to the King, and tell him what Miracle

One. Forsooth, a blinde man at Saint Albones Shrine, Within this halfe houre hath receiu'd his sight, A man that ne're saw in his life before

King. Now G.o.d be prays'd, that to beleeuing Soules Giues Light in Darknesse, Comfort in Despaire.

Enter the Maior of Saint Albones, and his Brethren, bearing the man betweene two in a Chayre.

Card. Here comes the Townes-men, on Procession, To present your Highnesse with the man

King. Great is his comfort in this Earthly Vale, Although by his sight his sinne be multiplyed

Glost. Stand by, my Masters, bring him neere the King, His Highnesse pleasure is to talke with him

King. Good-fellow, tell vs here the circ.u.mstance, That we for thee may glorifie the Lord.

What, hast thou beene long blinde, and now restor'd?

Simpc. Borne blinde, and't please your Grace

Wife. I indeede was he

Suff. What Woman is this?

Wife. His Wife, and't like your Worship

Glost. Hadst thou been his Mother, thou could'st haue better told

King. Where wert thou borne?

Simpc. At Barwick in the North, and't like your Grace

King. Poore Soule, G.o.ds goodnesse hath beene great to thee: Let neuer Day nor Night vnhallowed pa.s.se, But still remember what the Lord hath done

Queene. Tell me, good-fellow, Cam'st thou here by Chance, or of Deuotion, To this holy Shrine?

Simpc. G.o.d knowes of pure Deuotion, Being call'd a hundred times, and oftner, In my sleepe, by good Saint Albon: Who said; Symon, come; come offer at my Shrine, And I will helpe thee

Wife. Most true, forsooth: And many time and oft my selfe haue heard a Voyce, To call him so

Card. What, art thou lame?

Simpc. I, G.o.d Almightie helpe me

Suff. How cam'st thou so?

Simpc. A fall off of a Tree

Wife. A Plum-tree, Master

Glost. How long hast thou beene blinde?

Simpc. O borne so, Master

Glost. What, and would'st climbe a Tree?

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

Wife. Too true, and bought his climbing very deare