Tis call'd the evil:
A most miraculous work in this good king;
Which often, since my here-remain in England,
I have seen him do. How often he solicit heaven,
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures,
Hanging a golden stamp aboit their necks,
Put on with Holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction;
