1;

I lost my heart, I must needs lose my way.
There went the ransome, to redeem mind
my
'Stead of the money, I brought over her;
And to cast mists before my father's eyes,
Told him it was my sister (lost so long)
And that yourself was dead.-You see the wrong.
Moth. This is but youthful still-

I forgive thee

As freely as thou didst it. For, alas,

This may be call'd good dealing, to some parts
That love and youth plays daily among sons.

THE WITCH:

[Act ii., Sc. 2.]

A TRAGI-COMEDY [FIRST PRINTED 1778]. BY THOMAS MIDDLETON

HECATE, and the other Witches, at their Charms. Hec. Titty and Tiffin, Suckin

And Pidgen, Liard, and Robin!

White spirits, black spirits, grey spirits, red spirits,
Devil-toad, devil-ram, devil-cat, and devil-dam,
Why Hoppo and Stadlin, Hellwain and Puckle!
Stad. Here, sweating at the vessel.

Hec. Boil it well.

Hop. It gallops now.

Hec. Are the flames blue enough,

Or shall I use a little seeten1 more?

Stad. The nips of Fairies upon maids' white hips Are not more perfect azure.

Hec. Tend it carefully.

Send Stadlin to me with a brazen dish,

That I may fall to work upon these serpents.
And squeeze 'em ready for the second hour.
Why, when?

Stad. Here's Stadlin and the dish.

Hec. Here take this unbaptized brat :

Boil it well-preserve the fat:

You know 'tis precious to transfer

Our 'nointed flesh into the air,

In moonlight nights, o'er steeple tops,

Mountains, and pine trees, that like pricks, or stops,
Seem to our height: high towers, and roofs of princes,

1 Seething.

Like wrinkles in the earth: whole provinces
Appear to our sight then even like

A russet-mole upon some lady's cheek.

When hundred leagues in air, we feast and sing,
Dance, kiss, and coll, use everything:

What young man can we wish to pleasure us,
But we enjoy him in an Incubus?

Thou know'st it, Stadlin?

Stad. Usually that's done.

Hec. Away, in.

Go feed the vessel for the second hour.

Stad. Where be the magical herbs?

Hec. They're down his throat,1

His mouth cramm'd full; his ears and nostrils stuft.
I thrust in Eleaselinum, lately

Aconitum, frondes populeas, and soot.

You may see that, he looks so black i' th' mouth.
Then Sium, Acharum, Vulgaro too,

Dentaphillon, the blood of a flitter-mouse,
Solanum somnificum et oleum.

Stad. Then there's all, Hecate.

Hec. Is the heart of wax

Stuck full of magic needles?

Stad. "Tis done, Hecate.

Hec. And is the farmer's picture, and his wife's, Laid down to the fire yet?

Stad. They are a roasting both too.

Hec. Good;

Then their marrows are a melting subtilly,

And three months' sickness sucks up life in 'em.

They denied me often flour, barm, and milk,

Goose-grease and tar, when I ne'er hurt their churnings,
Their brew-locks nor their batches, nor forespoke

Any of their breedings. Now I'll be meet with 'em.

Seven of their young pigs I have bewitch'd already

Of the last litter, nine ducklings, thirteen goslings, and a hog Fell lame last Sunday, after even-song too.

And mark how their sheep prosper; or what soup

Each milch-kine gives to the pail: I'll send these snakes

Shall milk 'em all beforehand: the dew'd-skirted dairy wenches Shall stroke dry dugs for this, and go home cursing:

I'll mar their sillabubs, and swarthy feastings

Under cows' bellies, with the parish youths.

1 The dead child's.

[Act i., Sc. 2.2]

[Vol. v.]

Sebastian consults the Witch for a Charm to be revenged on his successful Rival.

Hec. Urchins, elves, hags, satires, pans, fawns, silence. Kit with the candlestick; tritons, centaurs, dwarfs, imps. The spoon, the mare, the man i' th' oak, the hellwain, the fire-drake, the puckle. A. ab hur. hus.

Seb. Heaven knows with what unwillingness and hate I enter this damn'd place but such extremes

:

Of wrongs in love fight 'gainst religion's knowledge,
That were I led by this disease to deaths

As numberless as creatures that must die,

I could not shun the way. I know what 'tis
To pity mad men now: they're wretched things
That ever were created, if they be

Of woman's making and her faithless vows.
I fear they're now a kissing: what's a clock?
"Tis now but supper time: but night will come,
And all new-married couples make short suppers.
Whate'er thou art, I have no spare time to fear thee;
My horrors are so strong and great already
That thou seem'st nothing: Up and laze not:
Hadst thou my business, thou couldst ne'er sit so;
"Twould firk thee into air a thousand mile,
Beyond thy ointments: I would I were read
So much in thy black pow'r, as mine own griefs.
I'm in great need of help: wilt give me any?

Hec. Thy boldness takes me bravely; we are all sworn

To sweat for such a spirit: see; I regard thee,

I rise, and bid thee welcome. What's thy wish now?
Seb. O, my heart swells with't. I must take breath first.
Hec. Ist to confound some enemy on the seas?

It may be done to-night. Stadlin's within;
She raises all your sudden ruinous storms
That shipwreck barks; and tears up growing oaks;
Flies over houses, and takes Anno Domini

Out of a rich man's chimney (a sweet place for❜t,

He would be hang'd ere he would set his own years there;
They must be chamber'd in a five pound picture,
A green silk curtain drawn before the eyes on't,
His rotten diseased years!) Or dost thou envy
The fat prosperity of any neighbour?
I'll call forth Hoppo, and her incantation
Can straight destroy the young of all his cattle:
Blast vineyards, orchards, meadows; or in one night

Transport his dung, hay, corn, by reeks, whole stacks,
Into thine own ground.

Seb. This would come most richly now

To many a country grazier : But my envy

Lies not so low as cattle, corn, or wines:

"Twill trouble your best powers to give me ease.

Hec. Is it to starve up generation?

To strike a barrenness in man or woman?

Seb. Hah!

Hec. Hah! Did you feel there? I knew your grief.
Seb. Can there be such things done?

Hec. Are these the skins

Of serpents? these of snakes?

Seb. I see they are.

Hec. So sure into what house these are convey'd
Knit with these charms, and retentive knots,
Neither the man begets, nor woman breeds,
No, nor performs the least desire of wedlock,
Being then a mutual duty; I could give thee
Chiroconita, Adincantida,

Archimadon, Marmaritin, Calicia,

Which I could sort to villanous barren ends;

But this leads the same way: More I could instance:
As the same needles thrust into their pillows
That sow and sock up dead men in their sheets:

A privy grissel of a man that hangs

After sunset. Good, excellent: yet all's there, Sir.
Seb. You could not do a man that special kindness
To part them utterly, now? Could you do that?
Hec. No: time must do't: we cannot disjoin wedlock;
"Tis of heaven's fastening: well may we raise jars,
Jealousies, strifes, and heart-burning disagreements,
Like a thick scurf o'er life, as did our master
Upon that patient1 miracle; but the work itself
Our power cannot disjoin.

Seb. I depart happy

In what I have then, being constrain❜d to this:

And grant, you greater powers that dispose men,

That I may never need this hag again.

Hec. I know he loves me not, nor there's no hope on't;

"Tis for the love of mischief I do this:

And that we are sworn to the first oath we take.

1 Job.

[Exit.

[Act i., Sc. 2.]

HECATE, STADLIN, HOPPO, with the other Witches, preparing for their midnight journey through the Air. FIRESTONE, HECATE'S Son.

Hec. The moon's a gallant: see how brisk she rides.
Stad. Here's a rich evening, Hecate.

Hec. Ay, is't not, wenches,

To take a journey of five thousand mile?
Hop. Ours will be more to-night.

Hec. Oh 'twill be precious.

Heard you the owl yet?

Stad. Briefly in the copse,

As we came through now.

Hec. "Tis high time for us then.

Stad. There was a bat hung at my lips three times As we came through the woods, and drank her fill. Old Puckle saw her.

Hec. You are fortunate still:

The very screech-owl lights upon your shoulder,
And woos you like a pigeon. Are you furnish'd?
Have you your ointments?

Stad. All.

Hec. Prepare to flight then:

I'll overtake you swiftly.

Stad. Hie thee, Hecate:

We shall be up betimes.

Hec. I'll reach you quickly.

[The other Witches mount. Fire. They are all going a-birding to-night. They talk of fowls in the air, that fly by day: I am sure, they'll be a company of foul sluts there to-night. If we have not mortality offer'd,1 I'll be hanged; for they are able to putrefy it, to infect a whole region. She spies me now.

Hec. What, Firestone, our sweet son?

Fire. A little sweeter than some of you; or a dunghill were too good for me.

Hec. How much hast here?

Fire. Nineteen, and all brave plump ones; besides six lizards,

and three serpentine eggs.

Hec. Dear and sweet boy: what herbs hast thou?

Fire. I have some Marmartin and Mandragon.

Hec. Marmaritin and Mandragora thou wouldst say.

Fire. Here's Pannax too: I thank thee, my pan akes I am sure With kneeling down to cut 'em.

1
1 Probably the true reading is after't.