threw her, and in the tumbling caft, ftruck up old Puckles heeles with her clothes over her eares. Hec. Hoy-day! Fire. I was fayne to throw the cat upon her, to fave her honestie; and all litle enough: I cryde out ftill, I pray be coverd. See where he comes now (Mother.) Enter ALMACHILDES. Alm. Call you theis witches? They be tumblers me-thinckes, very flat tumblers. I have had him thrice in Incubus already. Al. Is your name gooddy Hag.? Hec. 'Tis any thing. Call me the horridft and unhallowed things That life and nature trembles at; for thee I'll be the fame. Thou com'ft for a love-charme now? Hec. Thou fhalt have choice of twentie, wett, or drie. Al. Nay let's have drie ones. Hec. Yf thou wilt ufe't by way of cup and potion, I'll give thee a Remora fhall be-witch her ftraight. Al. A Remora? what's that? Hec. A litle fuck-ftone, Some call it a ftalamprey, a small fish. Al. And muft 'be butter'd? Hec. The bones of a greene frog too: wondrous pretious, The flesh confum'd by pize-mires. Al. Pize-mires! give me a chamber-pot. Fire. You fhall fee him goe nighe to be fo unmannerly, hee'll make water before my mother anon. Al. And now you talke of frogs, I have fomewhat here: I come not emptie pocketted from a bancket. (I learn'd that of my haberdashers wife.) Looke, goody witch, there's a toad in marchpane for you. Hec. Oh fir, y'have fitted me. Al. And here's a fpawne or two Of the fame paddock-brood too, for your fon. Fire. I thanck your worship, fir: how comes your handkercher fo fweetely thus beray'd? fure tis wett fucket, fir. Al. 'Tis nothing but the firrup the toad fpit, Take all I pree-thee. Hec. This was kindly don, fir, And you fhall fup with me to-night for this. Al. How? fup with thee? doft thinck I'll eate fryde ratts, And pickled fpiders? Hec. No: I can command, Sir, The best meate i'th' whole province for my frends, And reverently fervd in too. Al. How? Hec. In good fashion. Al. Let me but fee that, and I'll fup with you. She conjures; and enter a Catt (playing on a fidle) and Spiritis (with meate). The Catt and Fidle's an excellent ordinarie: You had a devill once in a fox-fkin. Hec. Oh, I have him ftill: come walke with me, Sir. Exit. Fire. How apt and ready is a drunckard now to reele to the de vill! Well I'll even in, and fee how he eates, and I'll be hang d if I be not the fatter of the twaine with laughing at him. ACT III. SCENE III. Enter HECCAT, WITCHES, & FIRE-STONE. Hec. The moone's a gallant; fee how brifk fhe rides. Hec. I, is't not wenches, To take a jorney of five thoufand mile? Hop. Ours will be more to-night. Hec. Oh, twill be pretious: heard you the owle yet? As we came through now. Hec. 'Tis high time for us then. Stad. There was a bat hoong at my lipps three times Hec. You are fortunate ftill: The very schreich-owle lights upon your fhoulder, Have you your oyntments? Stad. All. Hec. Prepare to flight then: Fll over-take you fwiftly. We fhal be up betimes. Hec. I'll reach you quickly. [Exit. Fire. They are all going a birding to-night. They talk of fowles 'th'aire, that fly by day: I am fure they'll be a company of fowle flutts there to night. Yf we have not mortallitie affer'd, I'll be hang'd, for they are able to putryfie it, to infect a whole region. She fpies me now. Hec. What Fire-Stone, our fweet fon? Fire. A litle fweeter then fome of you; or a doonghill were too good for me. Hec. How much haft here? Fire. Nineteene, and all brave plump ones; befides fix lizards, and three ferpentine eggs. Hec. Deere and fweet boy: what herbes haft thou? Fire. I have fome Mar-martin, and Man-dragon. Hec. Marmaritin, and Mandragora, thou wouldst say. Fire. Heer's Pannax too: I thanck thee, my pan akes I am fure with kneeling downe to cut 'em. Hec. And Selago, Hedge hifop too: how neere he goes my cuttings? Were they all cropt by moone-light? Fire, Every blade of 'em, or I am a moone-calf (Mother). Hec. Hye thee home with 'em. Looke well to the house to night: I am for aloft. Fire. Aloft (quoth you?) I would you would breake your neck once, that I might have all quickly. Hark, hark, mother; they are above the fteeple alredy, flying over your head with a noyse of mufitians. Hec. They are they indeed. Help me, help me; I'm too late Hec. Oh, art thou come, What newes, what newes? All goes ftill to our delight, Either come, or els Refufe, refufé. Hec. Now I am furnish'd for the flight. Fire. Hark, hark, the Catt fings a brave treble in her owne language. Hec. going up.] Now I goe, now I flie, Malkin my fweete fpirit and I. Oh what a daintie pleasure tis To ride in the aire When the moone fhines faire, And fing and daunce, and toy and kifs: Over fteepe towres and turretts We fly by night, 'mongst troopes of spiritts, No howles of woolves, no yelpes of hounds; Or cannon's throat, our height can reache. No Ring of bells, &c. } above. Fire. Well Mother, I thanck your kindnes: You must be gambolling i'th'aire, and leave me to walk here like a foole and a mor tall. [Exit. Enter DUCHESSE, HECCAT, FIRESTONE, Hec. What death is't you defire for Almachildes ? Hec. Then I have fitted you. Here lye the guifts of both; fodaine and subtle: Bv a blew fire, kindled with dead mens' eyes, Will wafte him by degrees. Duch. In what time, pree-thee? Hec. Perhaps in a moone's progreffe. Out upon pictures! if they be fo tedious, Give me things with fome life. Hec. Then feeke no farther. Duch. This must be don with speed, dispatch'd this night, If it may poffible. Hec. I have it for you: Here's that will do't: ftay but perfection's time, And that's not five howres hence, Duch. Canft thou do this? Hec. Can I? Duch. I meane, so closely. Hec. So clofely doe you meane too? Duch. So artfully, fo cunningly. Hec. Worfe & worfe; doubts and incredulities, Can you doubt me then, daughter, That can make mountaines tremble, miles of woods walk; Of the entomb'd to burft out from their marbles; Nay, draw yond moone to my envolv'd defignes ? Fire. I know as well as can be when my mother's mad and our great catt angrie; for one fpitts French then, and thother spitts Latten. Duch. I did not doubt you, Mother. Hec. No? what did you, My powre's fo firme, it is not to be queftion'd, Duch. Forgive what's paft: and now I know th' offenfivenes That vexes art, I'll fhun th' occafion ever. Hec. Leave all to me and my five fifters, daughter. It fhall be convaid in at howlett-time. Take you no care. My fpiritts know their moments! But they call in (I thanck 'em) and they loose not by't. I give 'em barley foakd in infants' blood: They fhall have femina cum fanguine, Their gorge cramd full if they come once to our house: We are no niggard. Fire. They fare but too well when they come heather: they eate up as much tother night as would have made me a good confcionable pudding. Hec. Give me fome lizards-braine: quickly Firestone. Wher's grannam Stadlin, and all the rest o'th'fifters ? Fire. All at hand forfooth. Hec. Give me Marmaritin; fome Beare-breech: when? |