William Shakespeare: King Henry VI, Second Part

ACT I 4. SCENE IV. Gloster's Garden (continued)

[As the Spirit speaks, Southwell writes the answer.]

BOLINGBROKE.
'What fates await the Duke of Suffolk?'

SPIRIT.
By water shall he die and take his end.

BOLINGBROKE.
[Reads] 'What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?'

SPIRIT.
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.

BOLINGBROKE.
Descend to darkness and the burning lake!
False fiend, avoid!

[Thunder and lightning. Exit Spirit.]

[Enter the DUKE OF YORK and the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM
with their Guard and break in YORK.]

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.

DUCHESS.
Not half so bad as thine to England's king,
Injurious duke, that threatest where's no cause.

BUCKINGHAM.
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.]

YORK.
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, 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.