Henry VI, Part II, William Shakespeare [readict txt] 📗
- Author: William Shakespeare
Book online «Henry VI, Part II, William Shakespeare [readict txt] 📗». Author William Shakespeare
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, etc. It thunders and lightens terribly; then the Spirit riseth. Spirit Adsum. Margaret 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.
The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose;
But him outlive, and die a violent death. 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.
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.
Not half so bad as thine to England’s king,
Injurious duke, that threatest where’s no cause.
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 Jourdain, Southwell, etc.
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, Æacida, 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.
Your grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York,
To be the post, in hope of his reward.
Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick
To sup with me to-morrow night. Away! Exeunt.
Saint Alban’s.
Enter the King, Queen, Gloucester, Cardinal, and Suffolk, with Falconers halloing. QueenBelieve 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.
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.
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.
My lord, ’tis but a base ignoble mind
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
Ay, my lord cardinal? how think you by that?
Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven?
Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts
Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart;
Pernicious protector, dangerous peer,
That smooth’st it so with king and commonweal!
What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown peremptory?
Tantæne animis cœlestibus iræ?
Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice;
With such holiness can you do it?
No malice, sir; no more than well becomes
So good a quarrel and so bad a peer.
Why, as you, my lord,
An’t like your lordly lord-protectorship.
I prithee, peace, good queen,
And whet not on these furious peers;
For blessed are the peacemakers on earth.
Let me be blessed for the peace I make,
Against this proud protector, with my sword!
Aside to Cardinal. Make up no factious numbers for the matter;
In thine own person answer thy abuse.
Aside to Gloucester. Ay, where thou darest not peep: an if thou darest,
This evening, on the east side of the grove.
Believe me, cousin Gloucester,
Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,
We had had more sport. Aside to Gloucester. Come with thy two-hand sword.
Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord.
Aside to Cardinal. Now, by God’s mother, priest, I’ll
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