Enter Margaret Jourdain, Hume, Southwell, and 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.
Mother Jourdain, be you prostrate and grovel on the earth; John Southwell, read you; and let us to our work.
Enter the Duchess aloft, Hume following
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
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.
Reading out of a paper
As the Spirit speaks, Southwell writes the answer
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.
Descend to darkness and the burning lake! False fiend, avoid!
Thunder and lightning. Exit Spirit
Enter York and Buckingham with their 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.
True, madam, none at all: what call 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.
Exeunt above Duchess and Hume, guarded
We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming. All, away!
Exeunt guard with Margaret Jourdain, Southwell, &c
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?
“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 Alban's, 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.
At your pleasure, my good lord. Who's within there, ho!
Enter a Servingman
Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick To sup with me to-morrow night. Away!