90 Poore man. Alasse maister I know not.
[♦] Humphrey. Whats his name?
Poore man. I know not.
Humphrey. Nor his?
Poore man. No truly sir.
95 Humphrey Nor his name?
Poore man No indeed maister.
[♦] Humphrey Whats thine owne name?
Poore man. Sander, and it please you maister.
Humphrey. Then Sander sit there, the lyingest knaue in [100] Christendom. If thou hadst bene born blind, thou mightest aswell haue knowne all our names, as thus to name the seuerall colours we doo weare. Sight may distinguish of colours, but sodeinly to nominate [♦] them all, it is impossible. My Lords, saint Albones here hath done a Miracle, and would you not thinke his cunning to be great, that [105] could restore this Cripple to his legs againe.