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,
Gods goodnesse hath beene great to thee:
Let neuer Day nor Night vnhallowed passe,
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. God 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, God 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