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 God 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 circumstance,
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