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Conjuro te, &c. It thunders and lightens terribly; then

the Spirit riseth.

Spir. Adsum.

M. Jourd. 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.
Spir. Ask what thou wilt :-That I had said and done!
Boling. First, of the king. What shall of him become?
[Reading out of a Paper.
Spir. The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose;
But him outlive, and die a violent death.

[As the Spirit speaks, SOUTHWELL writes the an

swer.

Boling. What fate awaits the duke of Suffolk?
Spir. By water shall he die, and take his end.
Boling. What shall befall the duke of Somerset ?
Spir. 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.

Boling. Descend to darkness, and the burning lake:

False fiend, avoid!

[Thunder and Lightning. Spirit descends.

Enter YORK and BUCKINGHAM, hastily, with their
Guards, and Others.

York. Lay hands upon these traitors, and their trash.

Beldame, I think, we watch'd you at an inch.

What, madam, are you there? the king and common

weal

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.
Duch. Not half so bad as thine to England's king,
Injurious duke; that threat'st where is no cause.

Buck. True, madam, none at all. What call you
[Shewing her the papers.

this?

Away with them; let them be clapp'd up close,
And kept asunder:-You, madam, shall with us:—
Stafford, take her to thee.-

[Exit Duchess from above.

We'll see your trinkets here all forth-coming;

All.-Away!

[Exeunt Guards, with SOUTH. BOLING. &c. 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, Eacida, 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 hardily attain'd,
And hardly understood.

The king is now in progress toward 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.

Buck. 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 Servant.

Invite my lords of Salisbury, and Warwick,
To sup with me to-morrow night.-Away!

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Saint Albans.

Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, GLOSTER, Car dinal, and SUFFOLK, with Falconers hollaing.

Q. Mar. 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.

K. Hen. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest!—
To see how God and all his creatures works!
Yea, man and birds, are fain of climbing high.

Suf. No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My lord protector's hawks do tower so well;
They know their master loves to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.
Glo. My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind,
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

Car. I thought as much; he'd be above the clouds. Glo. Ay, my lord cardinal; How think you by that? Were it not good, your grace could fly to heaven?

K. Hen. The treasury of everlasting joy!

Car. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts Beat on a crown, the treasures of thy heart;

Pernicious protector, dangerous peer,

That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal! Glo. What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown perémptory?

Tantæne animis cælestibus iræ ?

Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice;
With such holiness can you do it?

Suf. No malice, sir; no more than well becomes
So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer.

Glo. As who, my lord?

Suf. Why, as you, my lord;

An't like your lordly lord-protectorship.

Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence. Q. Mar. And thy ambition, Gloster.

K. Hen. I pr'ythee, peace,

Good queen; and whet not on these furious peers,
For blessed are the peacemakers on earth.

Car. Let me be blessed for the peace I make,
Against this proud protector, with my sword!
Glo. 'Faith, holy uncle, 'would 'twere come to that!
[Aside to the Cardinal.

Car. Marry, when thou dar'st.

[Aside.

Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the matter,

In thine own person answer thy abuse.

[Aside.

Car. Ay, where thou dar'st not peep: an if thou dar❜st,

This evening on the east side of the grove.

[Aside.

K. Hen. How now, my

lords?

Car. Believe me, cousin Gloster,

Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,

We had had more sport.-Come with thy two-hand

sword.

Glo. True, uncle.

[Aside to GLO.

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