608Som. I humbly thanke your Royall Maiestie.

609Armorer. And I accept the Combat willingly.

610Peter. Alas, my Lord, I cannot fight; for Gods sake

611pitty my case: the spight of man preuayleth against me.

612O Lord haue mercy vpon me, I shall neuer be able to

613fight a blow: O Lord my heart.

614Humf. Sirrha, or you must fight, or else be hang'd.

615King. Away with them to Prison: and the day of

616Combat, shall be the last of the next moneth. Come

617Somerset, wee'le see thee sent away.

620Hume. Come my Masters, the Duchesse I tell you ex-

621pects performance of your promises.

622Bulling. Master Hume, we are therefore prouided: will

623her Ladyship behold and heare our Exorcismes?

624Hume. I, what else? feare you not her courage.

625Bulling. I haue heard her reported to be a Woman of

626an inuincible spirit: but it shall be conuenient, Master

627Hume, that you be by her aloft, while wee be busie be-

628low; and so I pray you goe in Gods Name, and leaue vs.

630Mother Iordan, be you prostrate, and grouell on the

631Earth; Iohn Southwell reade you, and let vs to our worke.

633Elianor. Well said my Masters, and welcome all: To

634this geere, the sooner the better.

635Bullin. Patience, good Lady, Wizards know their times:

636Deepe Night, darke Night, the silent of the Night,

637The time of Night when Troy was set on fire,

638The time when Screech-owles cry, and Bandogs howle,

639And Spirits walke, and Ghosts breake vp their Graues;

640That time best fits the worke we haue in hand.

641Madame, sit you, and feare not: whom wee rayse,

642Wee will make fast within a hallow'd Verge.

648Spirit. Ad sum.

649Witch. Asmath, by the eternall God,

650Whose name and power thou tremblest at,

651Answere that I shall aske: for till thou speake,

652Thou shalt not passe from hence.

653Spirit. Aske what thou wilt; that I had sayd, and

654done.

655Bulling. First of the King: What shall of him be-

656come?

657Spirit. The Duke yet liues, that Henry shall depose:

658But him out-liue, and dye a violent death.

659Bulling. What fates await the Duke of Suffolke?

660Spirit. By Water shall he dye, and take his end.

661Bulling. What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?

662Spirit. Let him shun Castles,

663Safer shall he be vpon the sandie Plaines,

664Then where Castles mounted stand.

665Haue done, for more I hardly can endure.

666Bulling. Discend to Darknesse, and the burning Lake:

667False Fiend auoide.

671Yorke. Lay hands vpon these Traytors, and their trash:

672Beldam I thinke we watcht you at an ynch.

673What Madame, are you there? the King & Commonweale

674Are deepely indebted for this peece of paines;

675My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not,

676See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts.

677Elianor. Not halfe so bad as thine to Englands King,

678Iniurious Duke, that threatest where's no cause.

679Buck. True Madame, none at all: what call you this?

680Away with them, let them be clapt vp close,

681And kept asunder: you Madame shall with vs.

682Stafford take her to thee.

683Wee'le see your Trinkets here all forth-comming.

684All away. Exit.

685Yorke. Lord Buckingham, me thinks you watcht her well:

686A pretty Plot, well chosen to build vpon.

687Now pray my Lord, let's see the Deuils Writ.

688What haue we here? Reades.

689The Duke yet liues, that Henry shall depose:

690But him out-liue, and dye a violent death.

691Why this is iust, Aio Aeacida Romanos vincere posso.

692Well, to the rest:

693Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolke?

694By Water shall he dye, and take his end.

695What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?

696Let him shunne Castles,

697Safer shall he be vpon the sandie Plaines,

698Then where Castles mounted stand.

699Come, come, my Lords,

700These Oracles are hardly attain'd,

701And hardly vnderstood.

702The King is now in progresse towards Saint Albones,

703With him, the Husband of this louely Lady:

704Thither goes these Newes,

705As fast as Horse can carry them:

706A sorry Breakfast for my Lord Protector.

707Buck. Your Grace shal giue me leaue, my Lord of York,

708To be the Poste, in hope of his reward.

709Yorke. At your pleasure, my good Lord.

710Who's within there, hoe?

712Inuite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick

713To suppe with me to morrow Night. Away.

717Queene. Beleeue me Lords, for flying at the Brooke,

718I saw not better sport these seuen yeeres day:

719Yet by your leaue, the Winde was very high,

720And ten to one, old Ioane had not gone out.

721King. But what a point, my Lord, your Faulcon made,

722And what a pytch she flew aboue the rest:

723To see how God in all his Creatures workes,

724Yea Man and Birds are fayne of climbing high.

725Suff. No maruell, and it like your Maiestie,

726My Lord Protectors Hawkes doe towre so well,

727They know their Master loues to be aloft,

728And beares his thoughts aboue his Faulcons Pitch.

729Glost. My Lord, 'tis but a base ignoble minde,

730That mounts no higher then a Bird can sore: