The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  PETER ⌈raising his hands⌉ By these ten bones, my lords, he did speak them to me in the garret one night as we were scouring my lord of York’s armour.

  YORK

  Base dunghill villain and mechanical,

  I’ll have thy head for this thy traitor’s speech !

  (To King Henry) I do beseech your royal majesty,

  Let him have all the rigour of the law.

  HORNER Alas, my lord, hang me if ever I spake the words. My accuser is my prentice, and when I did correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon his knees he would be even with me. I have good witness of this, therefore, I beseech your majesty, do not cast away an honest man for a villain’s accusation.

  KING HENRY (to Gloucester)

  Uncle, what shall we say to this in law?

  GLOUCESTER

  This doom, my lord, if I may judge by case:

  Let Somerset be regent o’er the French,

  Because in York this breeds suspicion.

  (Indicating Horner and Peter)

  And let these have a day appointed them

  For single combat in convenient place,

  For he (indicating Horner) hath witness of his servant’s

  malice.

  This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey’s doom.

  KING HENRY

  Then be it so. (To Somerset) My lord of Somerset,

  We make you regent o‘er the realm of France

  There to defend our rights ’gainst foreign foes.

  SOMERSET

  I humbly thank your royal majesty.

  HORNER

  And I accept the combat willingly.

  PETER ⌈to Gloucester⌉ Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God’s sake, pity my case! The spite of man prevaileth against me. O Lord, have mercy upon me—I shall never be able to fight a blow ! O Lord, my heart !

  GLOUCESTER

  Sirrah, or you must fight or else be hanged.

  KING HENRY

  Away with them to prison, and the day

  Of combat be the last of the next month.

  Come, Somerset, we’ll see thee sent away.

  Flourish. Exeunt

  1.4 Enter Margery Jordan, a witch; Sir John Hume and John Southwell, two priests; and Roger Bolingbroke, a conjuror

  Hume Come, my masters, the Duchess, I tell you, expects performance of your promises.

  BOLINGBROKE Master Hume, we are therefore provided. Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?

  HUME Ay, what else? Fear you not her courage.

  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 Jordan, be you prostrate and grovel on the earth.

  She lies down upon her face.

  ⌈Enter Eleanor, the Duchess of Gloucester, aloft⌉

  John Southwell, read you and let us to our work.

  DUCHESS Well said, my masters, and welcome all. To this gear the sooner the better.

  ⌈Enter Hume aloft⌉

  BOLINGBROKE

  Patience, good lady—wizards know their times.

  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 bandogs 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 hallowed verge.

  Here do the ceremonies belonging, and make the circle. Southwell reads ‘Coniuro te’, &c. It thunders and lightens terribly, then the spirit Asnath riseth

  ASNATH Adsum.

  WITCH Asnath,

  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.

  ASNATH

  Ask what thou wilt, that I had said and done.

  BOLINGBROKE (reads)

  ‘First, of the King: what shall of him become ?’

  ASNATH

  The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose,

  But him outlive, and die a violent death.

  As the spirit speaks, ⌈Southwell⌉ writes the answer

  BOLINGBROKE (reads)

  ‘Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk.’

  ASNATH

  By water shall he die, and take his end.

  BOLINGBROKE (reads)

  ‘What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?’

  ASNATH

  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. The spirit sinks down again

  Enter, breaking in, the Dukes of York and

  Buckingham with their guard, among them Sir

  Humphrey Stafford

  YORK

  Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash.

  ⌈Bolingbroke, Southwell, and Jordan are taken

  prisoner. Buckingham takes the writings from

  Bolingbroke and Southwell⌉

  (To Jordan) Beldam, I think we watched you at an inch.

  (To the Duchess) What, madam, are you there? The

  King and common weal

  Are deep indebted for this piece of pains.

  My lord Protector will, I doubt it not,

  See you well guerdoned 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—

  ⌈He raises the writings⌉

  what call you this?

  (To his men) Away with them. Let them be clapped up

  close

  And kept asunder. (To the Duchess) You, madam, shall

  with us.

  Stafford, take her to thee.

  Exeunt Stafford ⌈and others⌉ to the Duchess

  ⌈and Hume⌉ above

  We’ll see your trinkets here all forthcoming.

  All away!

  Exeunt below Jordan, Southwell, and

  Bolingbroke, guarded, and, above, ⌈Hume and⌉

  the Duchess guarded by Stafford ⌈and others.

  York and Buckingham remain⌉

  YORK

  Lord Buckingham, methinks you watched her well.

  A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon.

  Now pray, my lord, let’s see the devil’s writ.

  ⌈Buckingham gives him the writings⌉

  What have we here?

  He reads the writings

  Why, this is just

  Aio Aeacidam, Romanos vincere posse.

  These oracles are hardily attained

  And hardly understood. Come, come, my lord,

  The King is now in progress towards Saint Albans;

  With him the husband of this lovely lady.

  Thither goes these news as fast as horse can carry

  them—

  A sorry breakfast for my lord Protector.

  BUCKINGHAM

  Your grace shall give me leave, my lord of York,

  To be the post in hope of his reward.

  YORK (returning the writings to Buckingham)

  At your pleasure, my good lord. ⌈Exit Buckingham⌉ (Calling within) Who’s within there, ho!

  Enter a servingman

  Invite my lords of Salisbury and Warwick

  To sup with me tomorrow night. Away.

  Exeunt severally

  2.1 Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret with her hawk on her fist, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, Cardinal Beaufort, and the Duke of Suffolk, with falconers h
ollering

  QUEEN MARGARET

  Believe 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.

  KING HENRY (to Gloucester)

  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.

  SUFFOLK

  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.

  GLOUCESTER

  My lord, ‘tis but a base ignoble mind

  That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT

  I thought as much; he would be above the clouds.

  GLOUCESTER

  Ay, my lord Cardinal, how think you by that?

  Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven?

  KING HENRY

  The treasury of everlasting joy.

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT (to Gloucester)

  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 common weal!

  GLOUCESTER

  What, Cardinal? Is your priesthood grown

  peremptory ?

  Tantaene animis caelestibus irae?

  Churchmen so hot? Good uncle, hide such malice

  With some holiness—can you do it?

  SUFFOLK

  No malice, sir, no more than well becomes

  So good a quarrel and so bad a peer.

  GLOUCESTER

  As who, my lord ?

  SUFFOLK

  Why, as you, my lord—

  An’t like your lordly Lord’s Protectorship.

  GLOUCESTER

  Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.

  QUEEN MARGARET

  And thy ambition, Gloucester.

  KING HENRY I prithee peace, Good Queen, and whet not on these furious peers—For blessèd are the peacemakers on earth.

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT

  Let me be blessed for the peace I make

  Against this proud Protector with my sword.

  ⌈Gloucester and Cardinal Beaufort speak privately to one another⌉

  GLOUCESTER

  Faith, holy uncle, would’t were come to that.

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT

  Marry, when thou dar’st.

  GLOUCESTER

  Dare? I tell thee, priest,

  Plantagenets could never brook the dare!

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT

  I am Plantagenet as well as thou,

  And son to John of Gaunt.

  GLOUCESTER In bastardy.

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT I scorn thy words.

  GLOUCESTER

  Make up no factious numbers for the matter,

  In thine own person answer thy abuse.

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT

  Ay, where thou dar‘st not peep; an if thou dar’st,

  This evening on the east side of the grove.

  KING HENRY

  How now, my lords?

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT (aloud)

  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.

  GLOUCESTER (aloud) True, uncle.

  (Aside to Cardinal Beaufort)

  Are ye advised? The east side of the grove.

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT (aside to Gloucester)

  I am with you.

  KING HENRY Why, how now, uncle Gloucester?

  GLOUCESTER

  Talking of hawking, nothing else, my lord.

  (Aside to the Cardinal)

  Now, by God’s mother, priest, I’ll shave your crown

  for this,

  Or all my fence shall fail.

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT (aside to Gloucester)

  Medice, teipsum—

  Protector, see to’t well; protect yourself.

  KING HENRY

  The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords.

  How irksome is this music to my heart !

  When such strings jar, what hope of harmony?

  I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife.

  Enter one crying ‘a miracle’

  GLOUCESTER What means this noise?

  Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?

  ONE

  A miracle, a miracle!

  SUFFOLK

  Come to the King—tell him what miracle.

  ONE (to King Henry)

  Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban’s shrine

  Within this half-hour hath received his sight—

  A man that ne’er saw in his life before.

  KING HENRY

  Now God be praised, that to believing souls

  Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!

  Enter the Mayor and aldermen of Saint Albans, with music, bearing the man, Simpcox, between two in a chair. Enter Simpcox’s Wife ⌈and other townsmeni with them

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT

  Here comes the townsmen on procession

  To present your highness with the man.

  ⌈The townsmen kneel⌉

  KING HENRY

  Great is his comfort in this earthly vale,

  Although by sight his sin be multiplied.

  GLOUCESTER (to the townsmen)

  Stand by, my masters, bring him near the King.

  His highness’ pleasure is to talk with him.

  They ⌈ rise and ⌉ bear Simpcox before the King

  KING HENRY (to Simpcox)

  Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance,

  That we for thee may glorify the Lord.

  What, hast thou been long blind and now restored?

  SIMPCOX

  Born blind, an’t please your grace.

  SIMPCOX’S WIFE

  Ay, indeed, was he.

  SUFFOLK What woman is this?

  SIMPCOX’S WIFE His wife, an’t like your worship.

  GLOUCESTER Hadst thou been his mother

  Thou couldst have better told.

  KING HENRY (to Simpcox) Where wert thou born?

  SIMPCOX

  At Berwick, in the north, an’t like your grace.

  KING HENRY

  Poor soul, God’s goodness hath been great to thee.

  Let never day nor night unhallowed pass,

  But still remember what the Lord hath done.

  QUEEN MARGARET (to Simpcox)

  Tell me, good fellow, cam’st thou here by chance,

  Or of devotion to this holy shrine?

  SIMPCOX

  God knows, of pure devotion, being called

  A hundred times and oftener, in my sleep,

  By good Saint Alban, who said, ‘Simon, come;

  Come offer at my shrine and I will help thee.’

  SIMPCOX’S WIFE

  Most true, forsooth, and many time and oft

  Myself have heard a voice to call him so.

  CARDINAL BEAUFORT (to Simpcox)

  What, art thou lame ?

  SIMPCOX Ay, God almighty help me.

  SUFFOLK

  How cam’st thou so?

  SIMPCOX A fall off of a tree.

  SIMPCOX’S WIFE (to Suffolk)

  A plum tree, master.

  GLOUCESTER How long hast thou been blind?

  SIMPCOX

  O, born so, master.

  GLOUCESTER What, and wouldst climb a tree? SIMPCOX

  But that in all my life, when I was a youth.

  SIMPCOX’S WIFE (to Gloucester)

  Too true—and bought his climbing very dear.
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  GLOUCESTER (to Simpcox)

  Mass, thou loved’st plums well that wouldst venture so.

  SIMPCOX

  Alas, good master, my wife desired some damsons,

  And made me climb with danger of my life.

  GLOUCESTER ⌈aside⌉

  A subtle knave, but yet it shall not serve.

  (To Simpcox) Let me see thine eyes: wink now, now

  open them.

  In my opinion yet thou seest not well.

  SIMPCOX Yes, master, clear as day, I thank God and Saint Alban.

  GLOUCESTER

  Sayst thou me so? (Pointing) What colour is this cloak of?

  SIMPCOX

  Red, master; red as blood.

  GLOUCESTER Why, that’s well said.

  (Pointing) And his cloak?

  SIMPCOX Why, that’s green.

  GLOUCESTER (pointing) And what colour’s

  His hose?

  SIMPCOX Yellow, master; yellow as gold.

  GLOUCESTER

  And what colour’s my gown?

  SIMPCOX Black, sir; coal-black, as jet.

  KING HENRY

  Why, then, thou know’st what colour jet is of?

  UFFOLK

  And yet I think jet did he never see.

  GLOUCESTER

  But cloaks and gowns before this day, a many.

  SIMPCOX’S WIFE

  Never before this day in all his life.

  GLOUCESTER Tell me, sirrah, what’s my name?

  SIMPCOX Alas, master, I know not.

  GLOUCESTER (pointing) What’s his name?

  SIMPCOX I know not.

  GLOUCESTER (pointing) Nor his?

  SIMPCOX No, truly, sir.

  GLOUCESTER (pointing) Nor his name?

  SIMPCOX No indeed, master.

  GLOUCESTER What’s thine own name?

  SIMPCOX

  Simon Simpcox, an it please you, master.

  GLOUCESTER

  Then, Simon, sit thou there the lying’st knave

  In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind

  Thou mightst as well have known our names as thus

  To name the several colours we do wear.

  Sight may distinguish colours, but suddenly

  To nominate them all—it is impossible.

  Saint Alban here hath done a miracle.

  Would you not think his cunning to be great

  That could restore this cripple to his legs again?