University of Virginia Library

Scene VIII.

John. Scarlet. Scathlock. George. Alken.
Jo.
Rare sport I sweare! this hunting of the Witch
Will make us.

Scar.
Let's advise upon't, like huntsmen.

Geo.
And wee can spie her once, shee is our owne.

Sca.
First, think which way shee fourmeth, on what wind:
Or North, or South.

Geo.
For, as the Shep'ard said,
A Witch is a kind of Hare.

Scat.
And markes the weather,
As the hare does.

Jo.
Where shall wee hope to find her?

Alken returnes.
Alk.
I have ask'd leave to assist you, jollie huntsmen,
If an old Shep'herd may be heard among you;
Not jear'd or laugh'd at.

Jo.
Father, you will see
Robin-hoods house-hold, know more Curtesie.

Scat.
Who scornes at eld, peeles of his owne young haires.

Alk.
Yee say right well. Know yee the Witches Dell?

Scar.
No more then I do know the walkes of Hell.

Alk.
Within a gloomie dimble, shee doth dwell
Downe in a pitt, ore-growne with brakes and briars.
Close by the ruines of a shaken Abbey
Torne, with an Earth-quake, down unto the ground,
'Mongst graves, and grotts, neare an old Charnell house,
Where you shall find her sitting in her fourme,
As fearfull, and melancholique, as that
Shee is about; with Caterpillers kells
And knottie Cobwebs, rounded in with spells;
Thence shee steales forth to releif, in the foggs,
And rotten Mistes, upon the fens, and boggs,
Downe to the drowned Lands of Lincolneshire;
To make Ewes cast their Lambs! Swine eate their Farrow!
The House-wifes Tun not worke! Nor the Milk churne!
Writhe Childrens wrists! and suck their breath in sleepe!
Get Vialls of their blood! And where the Sea
Casts up his slimie Owze, search for a weed
To open locks with, and to rivet Charmes,
Planted about her, in the wicked feat,
Of all her mischiefes, which are manifold.

Jo.
I wonder such a storie could be told,
Of her dire deeds.

Geo.
I thought a Witches bankes
Had inclos'd nothing, but the merrie prankes
Of some old woman.

Skar.
Yes, her malice more!

Sca.
As it would quickly appeare, had wee the Store
Of his Collects.

Geo.
I, this gud learned Man
Can speake her right.

Skar.
He knowes, her shifts, and haunts!

Alk.
And all her wiles, and turnes. The venom'd Plants
Where with shee kill's! where the sad Mandrake growes,
Whose grones are deathfull! the dead-numming Night-shade!
The stupifying Hemlock! Adders tongue!
And Martagan! the shreikes of lucklesse Owles,
Wee heare! and croaking Night-Crowes in the aire!
Greene-bellied Snakes! blew fire-drakes in the skie!
And giddie Flitter-mice, with lether wings!
The scalie Beetles, with their habergeons,
That make a humming Murmur as they flie!
There, in the stocks of trees, white Faies doe dwell,
And span-long Elves, that dance about a poole!
With each a little Changeling, in their armes!
The airie spirits play with falling starres!
And mount the Sphere of fire, to kisse the Moone!
While, shee fitts reading by the Glow-wormes light,
Or rotten wood (o're which the worme hath crept)
The banefull scedule of her nocent charmes,
And binding Characters, through which shee wounds
Her Puppetts, the Sigilla of her witch-craft.
All this I know, and I will find her for you;
And shew you'her sitting in her fourme; I'le lay
My hand upon her; make her throw her skutt
Along her back, when shee doth start before us.
But you must give her Law: and you shall see her
Make twentie leapes, and doubles; crosse the pathes,
And then squatt downe beside us.

Jo.
Craftie Croane!
I long to be at the sport, and to report it.

Scar.
Wee'll make this hunting of the Witch, as famous,
As any other blast of Venerie.

Scat.
Hang her foule hagge, shee'll be a stinking Chase!
I had rather ha' the hunting of heir heyre.

Geo.
If wee could come to see her, cry, so haw, once!

Alk.
That I doe promise, or I'am no good Hag-finder.