Ay, what else? fear you not her courage.

Come, my masters; the duchess, I tell you, expects
performance of your promises.

Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold;
Marry, and shall. But how now, Sir John Hume!
Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum:
The business asketh silent secrecy.
Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch:
Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil.
Yet have ...

This they have promised, to show your highness
A spirit raised from depth of under-ground,
That shall make answer to such questions
As by your grace shall be propounded him.

But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice,
Your grace's title shall be multiplied.

Jesus preserve your royal majesty!