William Shakespeare: Henry VI (Pt 2), Act I, Scene IV
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.
Exit Hume
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
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
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
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains
Than where castles mounted stand.
Have done, for more I hardly can endure.
False fiend, avoid!
Thunder and lightning. Exit Spirit
Enter York and Buckingham with their Guard and break in
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.
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
All, away!
Exeunt guard with Margaret Jourdain, Southwell, &c
A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon!
Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ.
What have we here?
Reads
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.
Who's within there, ho!
Enter a Servingman
To sup with me to-morrow night. Away!
Exeunt