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?