Let Somerset be Regent o'er the French,
Because in York this breeds fufpicion.
And let these have a day appointed them
For fingle combat in convenient place;

For he hath witnefs of his fervant's malice.
This is the law, and this Duke Humphry's doom
K. Henry. Then be it fo; my Lord of Somerfet,
We make your Grace Regent over the French.
Som. I humbly thank your royal Majesty.
Arm. And I accept the combat willingly.

Peter. Alas! my Lord, I cannot fight; for God's fake pity my case; the spight of man prevaileth againft me O Lord have mercy upon me! I fhall never be able to fight a blow: O Lord, my heart!

Glo. Sirrah, or you must fight, or elfe be hang'd. K. Henry. Away with them to prifon, and the day of combat fhall be the last of the next month. Come, Somerset, we'll fee thee fent away. [Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE VIII. The witch's cave.

Enter Mother Jordan, Hume, Southwel, and Bolingbrook.

Hume Come, my mafters? the Duchefs, I tell you, expects performance of your promifes.

Boling. Mafter Hume, we are therefore provided. Will her Ladyship behold and hear our exorcifms? Hume. Ay, what elfe? fear not her courage.

Boling. I have heard her reported to be a woman. of an invincible fpirit, but it fhall be convenient, Mafter Hume, that you be by her aloft, while we be bufy below; and fo I pray you, go in God's name, and leave us. [Exit Hume.] Mother Jordan, be proftrate) and grovel on the earth; John Southwel, read you, and let us to our work,

Enter Eleanor above.

Elean. Well faid, my mafters, and welcome to all! to this geer, the fooner the better.

Boling Patience, good lady: wizards know their Deep night, dark night, the filent of the night*, [times, The filent of the night, is a claffical expreffion; and means an interlunar night,

The

The time of night when Troy was fet on fire,
The time when fcreech-owls cry, and ban-dogs howl;
When fpirits walk, and ghofts break up their
graves
That time beft fits the work we have in hand.
Madam, fit you, and fear not; whom we raise,
We will make faft within a hallow'd verge.

[Here they perform the ceremonies, and make the circle:
Bolingbrook or Southwel reads, Conjuro te, &c.
Itthunders and lightens terribly, then the fpirit rifeth.
Spirit. Adfum.

M. Jord. Afmuth, by the eternal God, whofe name And power thou trembleft at, tell what I afk: For till thou fpeak, thou fhalt not pafs from hence. Spirit. Afk what thou wilt.-That I had said, and done!

Boling. First, of the King: what fhall of him become? Spirit. The Duke yet lives that Henry fhall depofe; But him outlive, and die a violent death.

[As the Spirit fpeaks, they write the answer. Boling. Tell me, what fates await the Duke of Suf

folk?

Spirit. By water fhall he die, and take his end. Beling. What fhall befal the Duke of Somerset ?; Spirit. Let him fhun caftles..

Safer fhall he be on the fandy plains,

Than where caftles mounted stand.

Have done, for more I hardy can endure.

Boling. Defcend to darkness, and the burning lakes Falfe fiend, avoid!

[Thunder and lightning Spirit defcends.

Enter the Duke of York, and the Duke of Buckingham,' with their guard, and break in.

York. Lay hands upon thefe traitors, and their trash: Beldame, I think, we watch'd you at an inch. What, Madam, are you there? the King and realm Are deep indebted for this piece of pains; My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not, See you well guerdon'd for thefe good deserts.

Elean. Not half fo bad as thine to England's King, Injurious Duke, that threat'ft where is no caufe. Buck. True,Madam, none at all. What call you this?

Away

Away with them, let them be clapp'd up clofe,
And kept apart. You, Madam, fhall with us.
Stafford, take her to thee.

We'll fee your trinkets here forthcoming all.

[Exeunt Guard with Jordan, Southwel, &c. * Tork. The King is now in progrefs tow'rds St. Alban's; With him the hufband of this lovely lady:

Thither go thefe news, as faft as horfe can carry them; A forry breakfast for my Lord Protector.

Buck. Your Grace fhall give me leave, my Lord of

To be the poft, in hope of his reward.

York. At your pleasure, my good Lord. Who's within there, ho?

Enter a Serving-man.

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

[York,

-Southwel, etc.

[Exeunt.

York. Lord Buckingham, methinks, you watch'd her well.

A pretty plot, well chofe to build upon.

Now pray, my Lord, let's fee the devil's writ.

What have we here?

The Duke yet lives that Henry fhall deposë;

But bim outlive, and die a violent death.

Why, this is juft, Aio te,

Well, to the reft:

acida, Romanos vincere poffè.

Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk ?

By water fhall be die, and take his end.

What fhall betile the Duke of Somerfet?

Let him fhun caffles.

Sufer fall be be on the fandy plains,

Than where caftles mounted fland,

Come, come, my Lords;

Thefe oracles are hardily attain'd,

And hardly understood,

This repetition of the prophecies, which is altogether unneceffary, after what the fpectators had heard in the fcene immediately preceding, is not to be found in the first edition of this play. Mr. Pope.

АСТ.

A C T II.

SCENE I.

At St. Alban's.

Enter King Henry, Queen, Protector, Cardinal, and Suffolk, with Faulconers hallooing.

2. Mar. Blaw not better fport these feven years?

Elieve me, Lords, for flying at the brook,

I

Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high,
And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.

[day;

[made:

K. Henry. But what a point, my Lord, your faulcon And what a pitch fhe flew above the rest: To fee how God in all his creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. Suf. No marvel, an' it like your Majefty, My Lord Protector's hawks do tow'r fo well; They know, their mafter loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his faulcon's pitch. Glo. My Lord, 'tis but a bafe ignoble mind, That mounts no higher than a bird can foar.

Car. I thought as much he'd be above the clouds. Glo, Ay, my Lord Card❜nal, how think you by that ? Were it not good your Grace cou'd fly to heav'n ? K. Henry. The treafury of everlasting joy!

Car. Thy heaven is on earth, thine eyes and thoughts. Bent on a crown, the treasure of thy heart: Pernicious Protector, dangerous Peer, That smooth'ft it fo with King and common-weal !

Glo. What, Card'nal? is your priesthood grown fo. peremptory? Tantane animis cæleftibus ira? Churchinen fo hot? good uncle, hide fuch malice. With fuch holinefs can you not do it?

Suf. No malice, Sir, no more than well becomes So good a quarrel, and fo bad a Peer.

Glo. As who, my Lord?

Suf. Why, as yourself, my

Lord;

An't like your lordly Lord Protectorship.

Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine infolence. 2. Mar. And thy ambition, Glofter.

K. Henry. I pray thee, peace, good Queen; And whet not on thefe too too furious Peers,

For

For bleffed are the peace-makers on earth.
Car. Let me be bleffed for the peace I make,
Against this proud Protector, with my fword!
Glo. 'Faith, holy uncle, 'would 'twere come
to that.

Gar. Marry, when thou dar'st.

Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the

matter,

In thine own person answer thy abuse.
Car. Ay, where thou dar'ft not peep: and
if thou dar'ft,

This ev'ning on the east fide of the grove.
K. Henry. How now, my Lords?
Car. Believe me, coufin Glo'fter,

J

[Afide.

Had not your man put up the fowl-fo fuddenly,
We'd had more sport-

fword.

Glo. True, uncle.

-Come with thy two-hand

Afide to Gloucester.

Car. Are you advis'd?—The east side of the grove? Glo. Cardinal, I am with you.

K. Henry. Why, how now, uncle Glo'fter?

[Afide.

Glo. Talking of hawking; nothing elfe, my Lord.Now, by God's mother, Prieft, I'll fhave your crown for this,

Or all my fence fhall fail.

Car, [fide.] Medice, teipfum. Protector, fee to't well, protect yourself.

[Afide.

[Lords.

K. Henry. The winds grow high, fo do your stomachs, How irkfome is this music to my heart! When fuch strings jar, what hopes of harmony? I pray, my Lords, let me compound this ftrife.

SCENE II. Enter One, crying, A miracle!
Glo. What means this noife?

Fellow, what miracle doft thou proclaim.
One. A miracle, a miracle !

Suf. Come to the King, and tell him what miracle.
One. Forfooth, a blind man at St. Alban's fhrine,
Within this half-hour hath receiv'd his fight;
A man that ne'er faw in his life before.

K. Henry. Now God be prais'd, that to believing Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!

[fouls

Enter