I have heard her reported to be a woman of an
invincible spirit; but it shall be convenient, Master Hume, that
you be by her aloft while we be busy below; and so I pray you go,
in God's name, and leave us. [Exit HUME] Mother Jourdain, be you
prostrate and grovel on the earth; John Southwell, read you; and
let us to our work.
Well said, my masters; and welcome all. To this gear, the
sooner the better.
Patience, good lady; wizards know their times:
Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night,
The time of night when Troy was set on fire;
The time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl,
And spirits walk and ghosts break up their graves-
That time best fits the work we have in hand.
Madam, sit you, and fear not: whom we raise
We will make fast within a hallow'd verge.
[Here they do the ceremonies belonging, and make the circle;
BOLINGBROKE or SOUTHWELL reads: 'Conjuro te,' &c.
It thunders and lightens terribly; then the SPIRIT riseth]
Enter the DUKE OF YORK and the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM with guard, and break in
Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash.
Beldam, I think we watch'd you at an inch.
What, madam, are you there? The King and commonweal
Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains;
My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not,
See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts.
Not half so bad as thine to England's king,
Injurious Duke, that threatest where's no cause.
True, madam, none at all. What can you this?
Away with them! let them be clapp'd up close,
And kept asunder. You, madam, shall with us.
Stafford, take her to thee.
We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming.
Exeunt, above, DUCHESS and HUME, guarded; below,
WITCH, SOUTHWELL and BOLINGBROKE, guarded
Lord Buckingham, methinks you watch'd her well.
A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon!
Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ.
What have we here? [Reads]
'The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose;
But him outlive, and die a violent death.'
Why, this is just
'Aio te, Aeacida, Romanos vincere posse.'
Well, to the rest:
'Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk?'
'By water shall he die and take his end.'
'What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?'
'Let him shun castles;
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains
Than where castles mounted stand.'
Come, come, my lords;
These oracles are hardly attain'd,
And hardly understood.
The King is now in progress towards Saint Albans,
With him the husband of this lovely lady;
Thither go these news as fast as horse can carry them-
A sorry breakfast for my Lord Protector.
Your Grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York,
To be the post, in hope of his reward.
At your pleasure, my good lord.
Who's within there, ho?