Shakespeare's First Folio Part 370

Glost. 'Ma.s.se, thou lou'dst Plummes well, that would'st venture so

Simpc. Alas, good Master, my Wife desired some Damsons, and made me climbe, with danger of my Life

Glost. A subtill Knaue, but yet it shall not serue: Let me see thine Eyes; winck now, now open them, In my opinion, yet thou seest not well

Simpc. Yes Master, cleare as day, I thanke G.o.d and Saint Albones

Glost. Say'st thou me so: what Colour is this Cloake of?

Simpc. Red Master, Red as Blood

Glost. Why that's well said: What Colour is my Gowne of?

Simpc. Black forsooth, Coale-Black, as Iet

King. Why then, thou know'st what Colour Iet is of?

Suff. And yet I thinke, Iet did he neuer see

Glost. But Cloakes and Gownes, before this day, a many

Wife. Neuer before this day, in all his life

Glost. Tell me Sirrha, what's my Name?

Simpc. Alas Master, I know not

Glost. What's his Name?

Simpc. I know not

Glost. Nor his?

Simpc. No indeede, Master

Glost. What's thine owne Name?

Simpc. Saunder Simpc.o.xe, and if it please you, Master

Glost. Then Saunder, sit there, The lying'st Knaue in Christendome.

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.

Sight may distinguish of Colours: But suddenly to nominate them all, It is impossible.

My Lords, Saint Albone here hath done a Miracle: And would ye not thinke it, Cunning to be great, That could restore this Cripple to his Legges againe

Simpc. O Master, that you could?

Glost. My Masters of Saint Albones, Haue you not Beadles in your Towne, And Things call'd Whippes?

Maior. Yes, my Lord, if it please your Grace

Glost. Then send for one presently

Maior. Sirrha, goe fetch the Beadle hither straight.

Enter.

Glost. Now fetch me a Stoole hither by and by.

Now Sirrha, if you meane to saue your selfe from Whipping, leape me ouer this Stoole, and runne away

Simpc. Alas Master, I am not able to stand alone: You goe about to torture me in vaine.

Enter a Beadle with Whippes.

Glost. Well Sir, we must haue you finde your Legges.

Sirrha Beadle, whippe him till he leape ouer that same Stoole

Beadle. I will, my Lord.

Come on Sirrha, off with your Doublet, quickly

Simpc. Alas Master, what shall I doe? I am not able to stand.

After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leapes ouer the Stoole, and runnes away: and they follow, and cry, A Miracle.

King. O G.o.d, seest thou this, and bearest so long?

Queene. It made me laugh, to see the Villaine runne

Glost. Follow the Knaue, and take this Drab away

Wife. Alas Sir, we did it for pure need

Glost. Let the[m] be whipt through euery Market Towne, Till they come to Barwick, from whence they came.

Enter.

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: You made in a day, my Lord, whole Townes to flye.

Enter Buckingham.

King. What Tidings with our Cousin Buckingham?

Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to vnfold: A sort of naughtie persons, lewdly bent, Vnder the Countenance and Confederacie Of Lady Elianor, the Protectors Wife, The Ring-leader and Head of all this Rout, Haue practis'd dangerously against your State, Dealing with Witches and with Coniurers, Whom we haue apprehended in the Fact, Raysing vp wicked Spirits from vnder ground, Demanding of King Henries Life and Death, And other of your Highnesse Priuie Councell, As more at large your Grace shall vnderstand

Card. And so my Lord Protector, by this meanes 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: Sorrow and griefe haue vanquisht all my powers; And vanquisht as I am, I yeeld to thee, Or to the meanest Groome

King. O G.o.d, what mischiefes work the wicked ones?

Heaping confusion on their owne heads thereby

Queene. Gloster, see here the Taincture of thy Nest, And looke thy selfe be faultlesse, thou wert best

Glost. Madame, for my selfe, to Heauen I doe appeale, How I haue lou'd my King, and Common-weale: And for my Wife, I know not how it stands, Sorry I am to heare what I haue heard, n.o.ble shee is: but if shee haue forgot Honor and Vertue, and conuers't with such, As like to Pytch, defile n.o.bilitie; I banish her my Bed, and Companie, And giue her as a Prey to Law and Shame, That hath dis-honored Glosters honest Name

King. Well, for this Night we will repose vs here: To morrow toward London, back againe, To looke into this Businesse thorowly, And call these foule Offendors to their Answeres; And poyse the Cause in Iustice equall Scales, Whose Beame stands sure, whose rightful cause preuailes.

Flourish. Exeunt.

Enter Yorke, Salisbury, and Warwick.