LITMIR.BIZ

        BOLINGBROKE. 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]

        SPIRIT. Adsum.

        MARGERY JOURDAIN. Asmath,

          By the eternal God, whose name and power

          Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask;

          For till thou speak thou shalt not pass from hence.

        SPIRIT. Ask what thou wilt; that I had said and done.

        BOLINGBROKE. [Reads] 'First of the king: what shall of him

      become?'

        SPIRIT. The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose;

          But him outlive, and die a violent death.

                   [As the SPIRIT speaks, SOUTHWELL writes the answer]

        BOLINGBROKE. 'What fates await the Duke of Suffolk?'

        SPIRIT. By water shall he die and take his end.

        BOLINGBROKE. 'What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?'

        SPIRIT. Let him shun castles:

          Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains

          Than where castles mounted stand.

          Have done, for more I hardly can endure.

        BOLINGBROKE. Descend to darkness and the burning lake;

          False fiend, avoid! Thunder and lightning. Exit SPIRIT

        YORK. 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.

        DUCHESS. Not half so bad as thine to England's king,

          Injurious Duke, that threatest where's no cause.

        BUCKINGHAM. 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.

          All, away!

        YORK. 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.

        BUCKINGHAM. Your Grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York,

          To be the post, in hope of his reward.

        YORK. At your pleasure, my good lord.

          Who's within there, ho?

          Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick

          To sup with me to-morrow night. Away! Exeunt

        QUEEN. Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,

          I saw not better sport these seven years' day;

          Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high,

          And ten to one old Joan had not gone out.

        KING HENRY. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,

          And what a pitch she flew above the rest!

          To see how God in all His creatures works!

          Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.

        SUFFOLK. No marvel, an it like your Majesty,

          My Lord Protector's hawks do tow'r so well;

          They know their master loves to be aloft,

          And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.

        GLOUCESTER.

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