Fire. I know as well as can be when my mother's mad, and

our

Great cat angry; for one spits French then, and the other spits Latin.

Duch. I did not doubt you,

Hec. No! what, did you?

mother,

My power's so firm, it is not to be question'd.

Duch. Forgive what's past; and now I know the offensive-
That vexes art, I'll shun the occasion ever.

Hec. Leave all to me and my five sisters, daughter.
It shall be convey'd in at howlet-time.

[ness

Take you no care. My spirits know their moments:
Raven or screech-owl never fly by the door

But they call in (I thank 'em) and they lose not by 't.
I give 'em barley soak'd in infant's blood:

They shall have semina cum sanguine,

Their gorge cramm'd full, if they come once to our house:
We are no niggard.-

Fire. They fare but too well when they come hither: they ate up as much the other night as would have made me a good conscionable pudding.

Hec. Give me some lizard's brain, quickly, Firestone.
Where's grannam Stadlin, and all the rest of the sisters?
Fire. All at hand, forsooth. [The other Witches appear.
Hec. Give me Marmaritin; some Bear-breech: when?
Fire. Here's Bear-breech and lizard's-brain, forsooth,
Hec. Into the vessel;

And fetch three ounces of the red-hair'd girl

I kill'd last midnight.

Fire. Whereabout, sweet mother?

Hec. Hip; hip, or flank. Where's the Acopus?
Fire. You shall have Acopus, forsooth.

Hec. Stir, stir, about; whilst I begin the charm,
A Charm Song about a Vessel.

Hec. Black spirits and white, red spirits and grey;
Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may.
Titty, Tiffin, keep it stiff in ;

Fire-drake, Puckey, make it lucky;

Liard, Robin, you must bob in.

Round, around, around, about, about, about;

All Ill come running in, all Good keep out,

First Witch. Here's the blood of a bat.

Hec. Put in that, O, put in that.
Sec. Witch. Here's libbard's-bane.

Hec. Put in again.

First Witch. The juice of toad; the oil of adder.
Sec. Witch. Those will make the younker madder.
Hec. Put in, there's all, and rid the stench.
Fire. Nay, here's three ounces of the red-hair'd wench.
All. Round, around, around, &c.

Hec. So, so, enough: into the vessel with it.

There; 't hath the true perfection: I am so light!
At any mischief, there's no villany

But is a tune methinks.

Fire. A tune! 'tis to the tune of damnation then, I warrant And that song hath a villanous burthen.

[you, Hec. Come, my sweet sisters, let the air strike our tune; Whilst we show reverence to yon peeping moon. [The Witches dance, et Exeunt.

These

[Though some resemblance may be traced between the Charms in Macbeth and the Incantations in this Play, which is supposed to have preceded it, this coincidence will not detract much from the originality of Shakspeare. His witches are distinguished from the witches of Middleton by essential differences. These are creatures to whom man or woman plotting some dire mischief might resort for occasional consultation. Those originate deeds of blood, and begin bad impulses to men. From the moment that their eyes first meet with Macbeth's, he is spell-bound. That meeting sways his destiny. He can never break the fascination. witches can hurt the body: those have power over the soul.-Hecate in Middleton has a Son, a low buffoon: the hags of Shakspeare have neither child of their own, nor seem to be descended from any parent. They are foul Anomalies, of whom we know not whence they are sprung, nor whether they have beginning or ending. As they are without human passions, so they seem to be without human relations. They come with thunder and lightning, and vanish to airy music. This all we know of them.Except Hecate, they have no names; which heightens their mysteriousTheir names, and some of the properties, which Middleton has given to his hags, excite smiles. The Weird Sisters are serious things. Their presence cannot co-exist with mirth. But in a lesser degree, the Witches of Middleton are fine creations. Their power too is, in some measure, over the mind. They raise jars, jealousies, strifes, like a thick scurf o'er life.]

ness.

1 Light-hearted.

THE WITCH OF EDMONTON: A TRAGI-COMEDY, BY WILLIAM ROWLEY, THOMAS DECKER, JOHN FORD, &c.

MOTHER SAWYER (before she turns Witch) alone. Saw. And why on me? why should the envious world Throw all their scandalous malice upon me? 'Cause I am poor, deform'd, and ignorant, And like a bow buckled and bent together By some more strong in mischiefs than myself; Must I for that be made a common sink For all the filth and rubbish of men's tongues To fall and run into? Some call me Witch And being ignorant, of myself, they go About to teach me how to be one: urging That my bad tongue (by their bad usage made so) Forespeaks their cattle, doth bewitch their corn, Themselves, their servants, and their babes at nurse: This they enforce upon me; and in part

Make me to credit it1.

BANKS, a Farmer, enters.

Banks. Out, out upon thee, Witch.

Saw. Dost call me Witch?

Banks. I do, Witch, I do:

And worse I would, knew I a name more hateful.
What makest thou upon my ground?

Saw. Gather a few rotten sticks to warm me.
Banks. Down with them when I bid thee, quickly;
I'll make thy bones rattle in thy skin else.

Sao. You won't? churl, cut-throat, miser: there they be.. Would they stuck cross thy throat, thy bowels, thy maw, thy midriff

Banks. Say'st thou me so? Hag, out of my ground. Saw. Dost strike me, slave, curmudgeon? Now thy bones aches, thy joints cramps,

[Exit.

And convulsions stretch and crack thy sinews. Banks. Cursing, thou hag? take that, and that. Saw. Strike, do: and wither'd may that hand and arm Whose blows have lamed me, drop from the rotten trunk. Abuse me! beat me! call me hag and witch!

What is the name, where, and by what art learn'd?

1

This soliloquy anticipates all that Addison has said in the conclusion of the 117th Spectator.

154 WILLIAM ROWLEY, THOMAS DECKER, JOHN FORD, ETC.

What spells, or charms, or invocations,
May the thing call'd Familiar be purchased ?
-I am shunn'd

And hated like a sickness: made a scorn

To all degrees and sexes. I have heard old beldams
Talk of Familiars in the shape of mice,

Rats, ferrets, weasels, and I wot not what,

That have appear'd; and suck'd, some say, their blood.
But by what means they came acquainted with them,
I'm now ignorant. Would some power, good or bad,
Instruct me which way I might be revenged
Upon this churl, I'd go out of myself,
And give this fury leave to dwell within
This ruin'd cottage, ready to fall with age:
Abjure all goodness, be at hate with prayer,
And study curses, imprecations,

Blasphemous speeches, oaths, detested oaths,
Or anything that's ill; so I might work
Revenge upon this miser, this black cur,
That barks, and bites, and sucks the very blood
Of me, and of my credit. 'Tis all one

To be a witch as to be counted one.

She gets a Familiar which serves her in the likeness of a Black Dog. MOTHER SAWYER. Familiar.

With cursing and with madness; and have yet

No blood to moisten these sweet lips of thine.
Stand on thy hind-legs up. Kiss me, my Tommy;
And rub away some wrinkles on my brow,

By making my old ribs to shrug for joy

Of thy fine tricks. What hast thou done? Let's tickle.
Hast thou struck the horse lame as I bid thee?

Famil. Yes, and nipt the sucking child.

Saw. Ho, ho, my dainty,

My little pearl! No lady loves her hound,
Monkey, or parakeet, as I do thee.

Famil. The maid has been churning butter nine hours, but

it shall not come.

Saw. Let'm eat cheese and choke.

Famil. I had rare sport

Among the clowns in the morrice.

Saw. I could dance

Saw.

Out of my skin to hear thee. But, my curl-pate,
That jade, that foul-tongued

Nan Ratcliff,

Who, for a little soap lick'd by my sow,

:

Struck, and had almost lamed it did not I charge thee
To pinch that quean to the heart?

* *

*

Her Familiar absents himself: she invokes him.
-Not see me in three days?
I'm lost without my Tomalin; prithee come;
Revenge to me is sweeter far than life:
Thou art my raven, on whose coal-black wings
Revenge comes flying to me: O, my
best love,
I am on fire (even in the midst of ice)

Raking my blood up, till my

shrunk knees feel

Thy curl'd head leaning on them. Come then, my dar-
If in the air thou hover'st, fall upon me

In some dark cloud; and, as I oft have seen
Dragons and serpents in the elements,

Appear thou now so to me.

Art thou i' the sea?

Muster up all the monsters from the deep,

And be the ugliest of them: so that my bulch
Show but his swarth cheek to me, let earth cleave,'
And break from hell, I care not: could I run
Like a swift powder-mine beneath the world,
Up would I blow it, all to find out thee,
Though I lay ruin'd in it.-Not yet come?

[ling.

I must then fall to my old prayer:
: sanctibiceter nomen

tuum.

He comes in white.

Saw. Why dost thou thus appear to me in white,

As if thou wert the ghost of my dear love?

Famil. I am dogged, list not to tell thee, yet to torment thee, My whiteness puts thee in mind of thy winding-sheet.

Saw. Am I near death?

Famil. Be blasted with the news.

Whiteness is day's footboy, a fore-runner to light, which shows thy old rivel'd face: villanies are stript naked, the witch must be beaten out of her cockpit. Saw. Why to mine eyes art thou a flag of truce? am at peace with none; 'tis the black colour, Or none, which I fight under: I do not like

I

Thy puritan-paleness.――

[Mother Sawyer differs from the hags of Middleton or Shakspeare. She