SCENE IV. London. The DUKE OF GLOUCESTER'S garden

Enter MARGERY JOURDAIN, the witch; the two priests, HUME and SOUTHWELL; and BOLINGBROKE

  HUME. Come, my masters; the Duchess, I tell you, expects
    performance of your promises.
  BOLINGBROKE. Master Hume, we are therefore provided; will her
    ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?
  HUME. Ay, what else? Fear you not her courage.
  BOLINGBROKE. 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.

Enter DUCHESS aloft, followed by HUME

  DUCHESS. Well said, my masters; and welcome all. To this gear, the
    sooner the better.
  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

               Enter the DUKE OF YORK and the DUKE OF
                 BUCKINGHAM with guard, and break in

  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!

                Exeunt, above, DUCHESS and HUME, guarded; below,

                       WITCH, SOUTHWELL and BOLINGBROKE, guarded

  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?

Enter a serving-man

    Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick

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

Share on Twitter Share on Facebook