The late Lancashire WITCHES.  
A well received Comedy, lately Acted at the Globe on the Bankside, by the king's majesty's Actors.  
WRITTEN, By THOM. HEYWOOD, AND RICHARD BROOME.  
Aut prodesse solent, aut delectare.  
 
LONDON, Printed by Thomas Harper for Benjamin Fisher, and are to be sold at his Shop at the Sign of the Talbot, without Aldersgate. 1634.   

THE prologue.  

COrrantoes sailing, and no foot post late  
Possessing us with New; of foreign State,  
No accidents abroad worthy Relation  
Arriving here, we are forced from our own Nation  
To ground the Scene that's now in agitation.  
The Project unto many here well known;  
Those Witches the fat jailor brought to Town,  
An Argument so thin, persons so low  
Can neither yield much matter, nor great show.  
Expect no more than can from such be raised,  
So may the Scene pass pardoned, though not praised.    

ACTVS, I. SCENA, I.  Enter Master Arthur, Mr. Shakstone, Mr. Bantam: (as from hunting.) Arthur. 

Was ever sport of expectation,  
Thus crossed in th' height.   Shak. 
Tush these are accidents, all game is (subject to.  Arth. 

So you may call them  
Chances, or crosses, or what else you please,  
But for my part, I'll hold them prodigies,  
As things transcending Nature.   Bantam. 

O you speak this,  
Because a Hare hath crossed you.   Arth. 

A Hare? a Witch, or rather a Devil I think.  
For tell me Gentlemen, was't possible  
In such a fair course, and no covert near,  
We in pursuit, and she in constant view,  
Our eyes not wandering but all bent that way,  
The Dogs in chase, she ready to be ceased,  
And at the instant, when I durst have laid  
My life to gauge, my Dog had pinched her, than  
To vanish into nothing!   Shak. 
Somewhat strange, but not as you enforce it,  Arth. 

Make it plain  
That I am in an error, sure I am  
That I about me have no borrowed eyes.  
They are mine own, and Matches.   Bant. 

She might find some Muse as then not visible to us,  
And escape that way.   Shak. 

Perhaps some Fox had earthed there,  
And though it be not common, for I seldom  
Have known or heard the like, there squat herself,  
And so her scape appear but Natural,  
Which you proclaim a Wonder.   Arth. 

Well well Gentlemen, be you of your own faith, but (what I see  
And is to me apparent, being in sense,  
My wits about me, no way tossed nor troubled,  
to that will I give credit.   Banth. 

Come, come, all men  
Were never of one mind, nor I of yours.   Shak 

To leave this argument, are you resolved  
Where we shall dine today?   Arth. 
Yes where we purposed.  Banth. 
That was with Master Generous.  Arth. 

True, the same.  
And where a loving welcome is presumed,  
Whose liberal Table's never unprepared,  
Nor he of guests unfurnished, of his means,  
There's none can bear it with a braver port,  
And keep his state unshaken, one who sells not  
Nor covets he to purchase, holds his own  
Without oppressing others, always pressed  
To endear to him any known Gentleman  
In whom he finds good parts.   Bantham. 
A Character not common in this age.  Arth. 

I cannot wind him up  
Unto the least part of his noble worth.  
'tis far above my strength.   Enter Whetstone. Shak. 

See who comes yonder,  
A fourth, to make us a full Mess of guests  
At Master Generous Table.   Arth. 

Tush let him pass,  
He is not worth our luring, a mere Coxcomb,  
It is a way to call our wits in question,  
To have him seen amongst us.   Bant. 
He hath spied us, there is no way to evade him.  Arth. 
That's my grief; a most notorious liar, out upon him.  Shak. 
Let's set the best face on't.  Whet. 

What Gentlemen? all mine old acquaintance?  
A whole triplicity of friends together? nay then  
'Tis three to one we shall not soon part Company.   Shak. 
Sweet Mr. Whetstone.  Bant. 
Dainty Mr. Whetstone.  Arth. 
Delicate Master Whetstone.  Whet. 
You say right, Mr. Whetstone I have been, Mr. Whetstone I am, and Mr. Whetstone I shall be, and those that know me, know withal that I have not my name for nothing, I am he whom all the brave Blades of the Country use to whet their wits upon; sweet Mr. Shakton, dainty Mr. Bantham, and dainty Mr. Arthur, and how, and how, what all lustick, all froligozone? I know, you are going to my Uncle's to dinner, and so am I too, What shall we all make one rendezvous there,  
You need not doubt of your welcome.  Shak. 
No doubt at all kind Mr. Whetstone; but we have not seen you of late, you are grown a great stranger amongst us, I desire sometimes to give you a visit; I pray where do you lie?  Whet. 
Where do I lie? why sometimes in one place, and then again in another, I love to shift lodgings; but most constantly, wheresoever I dine or sup, there do I lie?  Arth. 

I never heard that word proceed from him  
I durst call truth till now.   Whet. 

But wheresoever I lie 'tis no matter for that,  
I pray you say, and say truth, are not you three now  
Going to dinner to my Uncle's?   Bant. 
I think you are a Witch Master Whetstone.  Whet. 
How? A Witch Gentlemen? I hope you do not mean to abuse me, though at this time (if report be true there are too many of them here in our Country) but I am sure I look like no such ugly Creature.  Shak. 
It seems then you are of opinion that there are Witches, for mine own part, I can hardly be induced to think there is any such kind of people.  Whet. 
No such kind of people! I pray you tell me Gentlemen, did never any one of you know my Mother?  Arth. 
Why was your Mother a Witch?  Whet. 
I do not say as Witches go nowadays, for they for the most part are ugly old Beldames, but she was a lusty young Lass, and by her own report, by her beauty and fair looks bewitched my Father.  Bant. 
It seems then your Mother was rather a young wanton wench, than an old withered witch.  Whet. 
You say right, and know withal I come of two ancient Families, for as I am a Whetstone by the Mother-side, so I am a byblow by the Fathers.  Arth. 
It appears then by your discourse, that you came in at the window.  Whet. 

I would have you think I scorn like my Granam's  
Cat to leap over the Hatch.   Shak. 
He hath confessed himself to be a Bastard.  Arth. 
And I believe't as a notorious truth.  Whet. 

Howsoever I was begot, here you see I am,  
And if my Parents went to it without fear or wit,  
What can I help it.   Arth. 

Very probable, for as he was got without fear,  
So it is apparent he was borne without wit.   Whet. 
Gentlemen, it seems you have some private business amongst yourselves, which I am not willing to interrupt, I know not how the day goes with you, but for mine own part, my stomach is now much upon 12. You know what hour my Uncle keeps, and I love ever to be set before the first grace, I am going before, speak, shall I acquaint him with your coming after?  Shak 
We mean this day to see what fare he keeps.  Whet. 

And you know it is his custom to fare well,  
And in that respect I think I may be his kinsman,  
And so farewell Gentlemen, I'll be your forerunner,  
To give him notice of your visit.   Bant. 
And so entire us to you.  Shak. 
Sweet Mr. Whetstone.  Arth. 
Kind Mr. By-blow.  Whet. 
I see you are perfect both in my name & surname; I have been ever bound unto you, for which I will at this time be your Noverint, and give him notice that you Universi will be with him per praesentes, and that I take to be presently.  Exit. Arth. 
Farewell As in praesenti.  Shak. 
It seems he's piece of a Scholar.  Arth. 
What because he hath read a little scrivener's Latin, he never proceeded farther in his Accidence than to Mentiri non est meum; and that was such a hard Lesson to learn, that he stuck at mentiri; and could never reach to non est meum: since, a mere Ignaro, and not worth acknowledgement.  Bant. 
Are these then the best parts he can boast of?  Arth. 
As you see him now, so shall you find him ever: all in one strain, there is one only thing which I wonder he left our.  Shak. 
And what might that be:  Arth. 

Of the same affinity with the rest.  
At every second word, he his commonly boasting  
either of his Aunt or his Uncle.   Enter Mr. Generous. Bant. 
You name him in good time, see where he comes.  Gener. 

Gentlemen, Welcome, 'tis a word I use,  
From me expect no further compliment:  
Nor do I name it often at one meeting,  
Once spoke (to those that understand me best,  
And know I always purpose as I speak)  
Hath ever yet sufficed: so jet it you;  
Nor do I love that common phrase of guests,  
As we make bold, or we are troublesome,  
we take you unprovided, and the like;  
I know you understanding Gentlemen,  
And knowing me, cannot persuade yourselves  
With me you shall be troublesome or bold,  
But still provided for my worthy friends,  
Amongst whom you are lifted.   Arth. 

Noble sir, you generously instruct us, and to express  
We can be your apt scholars: in a word  
we come to dine with you.   Gener. 

And Gentlemen, such plainness doth best please me, I had notice  
Of so much by my kinsman, and to show  
How lovingly I took it, instantly  
Rose from my chair to meet you at the gate.  
And be myself your usher; nor shall you find  
Being set to meat, that I'll excuse your fare,  
Or say, I am sorry it falls out so poor;  
And had I known your coming we'd have had  
Such things and such, nor blame my Cook, to say  
This dish or that hath not been sauced with care:  
Words, fitting best a common Hostess mouth,  
When there's perhaps some just cause of dislike  
But not the table of a Gentleman;  
Nor is it my wife's custom; in a word, take what you find, & so   Arth. 

Sir without flattery  
You may be called the sole surviving son  
Of long since banished Hospitality.   Gener. 

In that you please me not: But Gentlemen  
I hope to be beholden unto you all,  
Which if I prove, I'll be a grateful debtor.   Bant. 
Wherein good sir.  Gener. 
I ever studied plainness, and truth withal.  Shak. 
I pray express yourself.  Gener. 

In few I shall. I know this youth to whom my wife is Aunt  
Is (as you needs must find him) weak and shallow:  
Dull, as his name, and what for kindred's sake  
We note not, or at least, are loath to see,  
Is unto such well-knowing Gentlemen  
Most grossly visible: If for my sake  
You will but seem to wink at these his wants,  
At least at table before us his friends,  
I shall receive it as a courtesy  
Not soon to be forgot.   Arth. 
Presume it sir.  Gener. 
Now when you please pray Enter Gentlemen.  Arth. 

Would these my friends prepare the way before,  
To be resolved of one thing before dinner  
Would something add unto mine appetite,  
Shall I entreat you so much.   Bant. 
O sir you may command us.  Gener. 

I'th' mean time  
Prepare your stomachs with a bowl of Sack.  
My Cellar can afford it; now Mr. Arthur  
Pray freely speak your thoughts.   Exit Bant. & Shak. Arth. 

I come not sir  
To press a promise from you, take't not so,  
Rather to prompt your memory in a motion  
Made to you not long since.   Gener. 

Wast not about  
A Manor, the best part of your estate,  
Mortgaged to one slips no advantages  
Which you would have redeemed.   Arth. 
True sir the same.  Gener. 

And as I think, I promised at that time  
To become bound with you, or if the usurer  
(A base, yet the best title I can give him)  
Perhaps should question that security,  
To have the money ready. Wast not so?   Arth. 
It was to that purpose we discoursed.  Gener. 

Provided, to have the Writings in my custody.  
Else how should I secure mine own estate.   Arth. 

To deny that I should appear toth' World  
Stupid, and of no brain.   Gener. 
Your money's ready,  Arth. 

And I remain a man obliged to you.  
Beyond all utterance.   Gener. 

Make then your word good  
By speaking it no further, only this,  
It seems your Uncle you trusted in so far  
Hath failed your expectation.   Arth. 

Sir he hath, not that he is unwilling or unable.  
But at this time unfit to be solicited;  
For to the country's wonder and my sorrow,  
he is much to be pitied.   Gener. 
Why I entreat you.  Arth. 

Because he's late become the sole discourse  
Of all the country; for of a man respected  
For his discretion and known gravity,  
As master of a governed Family,  
The house (as if the ridge were fixed below,  
And ground-fills lifted up to make the roof)  
All now turned topsy-turvy,   Gener. 
Strange, but how?  Arth. 
In such a retrograde & preposterous way  
As seldom hath been heard of. I think never.  Gener. 
Can you discourse the manner?  Arth. 

The good man, in all obedience kneels unto his son,  
He with an austere brow commands his father.  
The wife presumes not in the daughter's sight  
Without a prepared courtesy. The girl, she  
Expects it as a duty; chides her mother  
Who quakes and trembles at each word she speaks,  
And what's as strange, the Maid she domineers  
o'er her young mistress, who is awed by her.  
The son to whom the Father creeps and bends,  
Stands in as much fear of the groom his man.  
All in such rare disorder, that in some  
As it breeds pity, and in others wonder;  
So in the most part laughter.   Gener. 
How think you might this come.  Arth. 
'tis thought by Witchcraft.  Gener. 

They that think so dream,  
For my belief is, no such thing can be,  
A madness you may call it: Dinner stays;  
That done, the best part of the afternoon  
we'll spend about your business.   Exeunt. Enter old Seely and Doughty Seely. 
Nay but understand me neighbour Doughty.  Doughty. 
Good master Seely I do understand you, and over and over understand you so much, that I could e'en blush at your fondness; and had I a son to serve me so, I would conjure a devil out of him.  See. 
Alas he is my child.  Dough. 
No, you are his child to live in fear of him, indeed they say old men become children again, but before I would become my child's child, and make my foot my head, I would stand upon my head, and kick my heels at the sides.  Enter Gregory. See. 
You do not know what an only son is, O see, he comes now if you can appease his anger toward me, you shall do an act of timely charity.  Dou. 
It is an office that I am but weakly versed in,  
To plead to a son in the father's behalf,  
Bless me what looks the devilish young Rascal  
Frights the poor man withal!  Greg. 
I wonder at your confidence, and how you dare appear before me.  Doug. 
A brave beginning.  See. 
O son be patient.  Greg. 
It is right reverend council, I thank you for it, I shall study patience shall I, while you practice ways to beggar me, shall I?  Dough. 
Very handsome.  See. 
If ever I transgress in the like again—  Greg. 
I have taken your word too often sir and neither can nor will forbear you longer.  Dough. 
What not your Father Mr. Gregory?  Greg. 
What's that to you sir?  Dough. 
Pray tell me then sir, how many years has he to serve you.  Gre. 

What do you bring your spokesman now, your advocate,  
What fee goes out of my estate now, for his Oratory?   Dou. 

Come I must tell you, you forget yourself,  
And in this foul unnatural strife wherein  
You trample on your father. You are fall'n  
Below humanity. Y'are so beneath  
The title of a son, you cannot claim  
To be a man, and let me tell you were you mine  
Thou shouldst not eat but on thy knees before me.   See. 

O this is not the way.  
This is to raise Impatience into fury.  
I do not seek his quiet for my ease,  
I can bear all his chidings and his threats,  
And take them well, very exceeding well,  
And find they do me good on my own part,  
Indeed they do reclaim me from those errors  
That might impeach his fortunes, but I fear  
th'unquiet strife within him hurts himself,  
And wastes or weakens Nature, by the breach  
Of moderate sleep and diet; and I can  
No less than grieve to find my weaknesses  
To be the cause of his affliction,  
And see the danger of his health and being.   Dou. 

Alas poor man? Can you stand open eyed  
Or dry eyed either at this now in a Father?   Greg. 

Why, if it grieve you, you may look of on't,  
I have seen more than this twice twenty times,  
And have as often been deceived by his dissimulations  
I can see nothing mended.   Dou. 
He is a happy are that has brought up his son to this.  See. 

All shall be mended son content yourself,  
But this time forget but this last fault.   Greg. 
Yes, for a new one tomorrow.  Dou. 

Pray Mr. Gregory forget it, you see how  
Submissive your poor penitent is, forget it,  
Forget it, put it out o'your head, knock it  
Out of your brains. I protest, if my Father,  
Nay if my father's dog should have said  
As much to me, I should have embraced him.  
What was the trespass? It could not be so heinous.   Greg. 

Well Sir, you now shall be a judge for all your jeering.  
Was it a fatherly part think you having a son  
To offer to enter in bonds for his nephew, so to endanger  
My estate to redeem his mortgage.   See. 
But I did it not son?  Gre. 

I know it very well, but your dotage had done it,  
If my care had not prevented it.   Dou. 
Is that the business: why if he had done it, had he not been sufficiently secured in having the mortgage made over to himself.  Greg. 
He does nothing but practice ways to undo himself, and me: a very spendthrift, a prodigal sire, he was at the Ale but other day, and spent a fourpenny club.  See. 
'Tis gone and past son.  Greg. 

Can you hold your peace sir? And not long ago at the  
Wine he spent his taster, and two pence to the piper,  
That was brave was it not?   See. 
Truly we were civilly merry. But I have left it.  Greg. 
Your civility have you not? For no longer ago than last holiday evening he gamed away eight double ringed tokens on a rubbers at bowls with the Curate, and some of his idle companions.  Dou. 

Fie Mr. Gregory Seely is this seemly in a son.  
You'll have a rod for the child your father shortly I fear.  
Alas did he make it cry? Give me a stroke and I'll beat him,  
Bless me, they make me almost as mad as themselves.   Greg. 
'Twere good you would meddle with your own matters sir.  See. 
Son, son.  Greg. 
Sir, Sir, as I am not beholden to you for house or Land, for it has stood in the name of my ancestry the Seelyes above two hundred years, so will I look you leave all as you found it.  Enter Lawrence. Law. 
What is the matter con you tell?  Greg. 
O Lawrence, welcome, Thou wilt make all well I am sure.  Law. 
Yie whick way con you tell, but what the foul evil done ye, here's sick an a din.  Dou. 
Art thou his man fellow ha? that talkest thus to him?  Law. 
Yie sir, and what my yoew of'at, he maintains me to rule him, and I'll do't, or ma'the heart weary o'the weambe on him.  Dou. 
This is quite upside down, the son controls the father, and the man overcrows his master's coxcomb, sure they are all bewitched.  Greg. 
'Twas but so, truly Lawrence; the peevish old man vexed me, for which I did my duty, in telling him his own, and Doughty here maintains him against me.  Law. 
I forbodden yeov to meddle with the old carl, and let me alone with him, yet you still be at him, he served you but we'll to baste ye for't, an't he were stronk enough, but an I saw foul with ye an I swaddle ye not savourly may my girts braced.  See. 
Prithee good Lawrence be gentle and do not fright thy Master so.  Law. 
Yie, at your command anon.  Dough. 
Enough good Lawrence, you have said enough.  Law. 
How trow ye that? A fine World when a man cannot be whyet at home for busy brained neighbours.  Dou. 

I know not what to say to any thing here,  
This cannot be but witchcraft.   Enter joane and Winny. Win. 
I cannot endure it nor I will not endure it.  Dou. 
hay day! the daughter upon the mother too.  Win. 
One of us two, choose you which, must leave the house, we are not to live together I see that, but I will know, if there be Law in Lancashire for't, which is fit first to depart the house or the World, the mother or the daughter.  Ioane. 
Daughter I say.  Win. 
Do you say the daughter, for that word I say the mother, unless you can prove me the eldest, as my discretion almost warrant it, I say the mother shall out of the house or take such courses in it as shall sort with such a house and such a daughter.  Joan. 
Daughter I say, I will take any course so thou wilt leave thy passion; indeed it hurts thee child, I'll sing and be merry, wear as fine clothes, and as delicate dressings as thou wilt have me, so thou wilt pacify thyself, and be at peace with me.  Win. 
O will yon so, in so doing I may chance to look upon you. Is this a fit habit for a handsome young Gentlewoman's mother, as I hope to be a Lady, you look like one o'the Scottish wayward sisters, O my heart has got the hickup, and all looks green about me, a merry song now mother, and thou shalt be my white girl.  Ioan. 
Ha, ha, ha! she's overcome with joy at my conversion.  Dough. 
She is most evidently bewitched.  Joane. 

Song.  
There was a deft Lad and a Lass fell in love,  
with a fa la la, fa la la, Langtidowne dilly;  
With kissing and toying this Maiden did prove,  
with a fa la la, fa la la, Langtidowne dilly;  
So wide i'th' waist, and her Belly so high,  
That unto her mother the Maiden did cry,  
O Langtidowne dilly, O Langtidowne dilly,  
fa la la Langtidowne, Langtidowne dilly.   Enter Parnell. Parn. 
Thus wooden ye done and I were dead, but while I live yoeu fadge not on it, is this awe the work ye confine?  Dough. 
Now comes the Maid to set her Mistresses to work.  Win. 
Nay prithee sweet Parnell, I was but chiding the old wife for her unhandsomeness, and would have been at my work presently, she tells me now she will wear fine things, and I shall dress her head as I list.  Dough. 
Here's a house well governed?  Parn. 
Dress me no dressings, lessen I dress ye beth, and learn a new lesson with a wainon right now, han I been a servant here this half dozen o'yeares, and con I fee ye idler than myself!  Ioa. Win. 
Nay prithee sweet Parnell content, & hark thee—  Dought. 
I have known this, and till very lately, as well governed a Family as the Country yields, and now what a nest of several humours it is grown, and all devilish ones, sure all the Witches in the Country, have their hands in this homespun medley; and there be no few 'tis thought.  Parn. 
Yie, yeah, ye shall ye shall, another time, but not naw I thank ye, ye shall as soon piss and paddle in't, as slap me in the mouth with an awd Petticoat, or a new pair o shoine, to be whyet, I cannot be whyet, nor I wonot be whyet, to see sicky doings I.  Lawr. 
Hold thy prattle Parnell, awes comed about as ween 'a had it, wotst thou what Parnell? wotst thou what? o dear, wotst thou what?  Parn. 
what's the fond wexen wailed trow I.  Lawr. 
We han been in love these three years, and ever we had not enough, now is it comed about that our love shall be at an end for ever, and a day, for we must wed may honey, we must wed.  Parn. 
What the Deowl ails the lymmer loon, been thy brains broke louse trow I.  Lawr. 
Sick a waddin was there never i' Loncoshire as ween couple at on Monday newest.  Par. 
away awaw, say ye this sickerly, or done you but jaum me?  Lawr. 
I jaum thee not nor flam thee not, 'tis all as true as book, here's both our Masters have consented and concluded, and our Mistresses must yield to it, to put awe house and land and awe they have into our hands.  Parn. 
away, awaw.  Lawr. 
And we must marry and be master and dame of awe.  Parn. 
away, awaw.  Lawr. 
And theyn be our Sojourners, because they are weary of the world, to live in frendibleness, and see what will come on't.  Par. 
away, awaw, agone.  Seel. & Greg. 
Nay 'tis true Parnell, here's both our hands on't, and give you joy.  Ioan. & Win. 
And ours too, and 'twill be fine Ifackins.  Parn. 
Whaw, whaw, whaw, whaw!  Dou. 
Here's a mad business towards.  Seel. 
I will bespeak the Guests.  Greg. 
And I the meat:  Ioan. 
I'll dress the dinner, though I drip my sweat.  Law. 
My care shall sumptuous parrelments provide.  Win. 
And my best art shall trickly trim the Bride.  Parn. 
Whaw, whaw, whaw, whaw.  Greg. 
I'll get choice music for the merriment.  Dough. 
And I will wait with wonder the event.  Parn. 
Whaw, whaw, whaw, whaw.   

ACTVS, II. SCAENA, I.  Enter 4. Witches: (severally.) All. 

HOe! well met, well met.  
Meg. What new device, what dainty strain  
More for our mirth now then our gain,  
Shall we in practice put.   Meg. 

Nay dame,  
Before we play another game.  
We must a little laugh and thank  
Our feat familiars for the prank  
They played us last.   Mawd. 

Or they will miss  
Us in our next plot, if for this  
They find not their reward.   Meg. 
'Tis right.  Gil. 

Therefore sing Maud, and call each spright.  
Come away, and take thy duggy,   Enter four Spirits. Meg. 
Come my Mamilion like a Puggy,  Mawd. 

And come my puckling take thy teat,  
Your travels have deserved your meat.   Meg. 

Now upon the churl's ground  
On which we're met, let's dance a round;  
That Cocle, Darnell, Poppia wild,  
May choke his grain, and fill the field.   Gil. 

Now spirits fly about the task,  
That we projected in our Mask.   Exit Spirits. Meg. 

Now let us laugh to think upon  
The feat which we have so lately done,  
In the distraction we have set  
In Seely's house; which shall beget  
Wonder and sorrow 'mongst our foes,  
whilst we make laughter of their woes.   All. 
Ha, ha, ha!  Meg. 

I can but laugh now to foresee,  
The fruits of their perplexity.   Gil. 
Of Seely's family?  Meg. 

ay, ay, ay, the Father to the Son doth cry,  
The Son rebukes the Father old;  
The Daughter at the mother Scold,  
The wife the husband check and chide,  
But that's no wonder, through the wide  
World 'tis common.   Gil. 

But to be short,  
The wedding must bring on the sport  
Betwixt the harebrained man and maid,  
Master and dame that overswayed.   All. 
Ha, ha, ha!  Meg. 

Enough, enough,  
Our sides are charmed, or else this stuff  
Would laughter-crack them; let's away  
About the jig. we dance today,  
To spoil the Hunter's sport.   Gil. 
I that, be now the subject of our chat.  Meg. 

Then list ye well, the Hunters are  
This day by vow to kill a Hare,  
Or else the sport they will forswear;  
And hang their Dogs up.   Mawd. 

Stay, but where  
Must the long threatned hare be found?   Gill. 
They'll search in yonder Meadow ground.  Meg. 

There will I be, and like a wily Wat,  
Until they put me up; I'll squat.   Gill. 

I and my puckling will a brace  
Of Greyhounds be, fit for the race;  
And linger where we may be ta'en  
Up for the course in the by-lane;  
Then will we lead their Dogs a course,  
And every man and every horse;  
Until they break their necks, and say—   All. 
The Devil on Dun is rid this way. Ha. ha, ha, ha.  Meg. 

All the doubt can be but this,  
That if by chance of me they miss,  
And start another Hare.   Gil. 

Then we'll not run  
But find some way how to be gone.  
I shall know thee Peg, by thy grizzled gut,   Meg. 

And I you Gilian by your gaunt thin gut.  
But where will Mawd bestow herself today?   Mawd. 
O' th' Steeple top; I'll sit & see you play.  Exeunt. Enter Mr. Generous, Arthur, Bantam, Shakstone, and Whetstone. Gener. 

At meeting, and at parting Gentlemen,  
I only make use of that general word,  
So frequent at all feasts, and that but once; y'are welcome.  
You are so, all of you, and I entreat you  
Take notice of that special business,  
Betwixt this Gentleman my friend, and I.  
About the Mortgage, to which writings drawn,  
Your hands are witness.   Baxt. & Shak. 
We acknowledge it.  Whet. 
My hand is there too, for a man cannot set to his Mark, but it may be called his hand; I am a Gentleman both ways, and it hath been held that it is the part of a Gentleman, to write a scurvy hand.  Bant. 
You write Sir like yourself.  Gener. 

Pray take no notice of his ignorance,  
You know what I foretold you.   Arth. 

'Tis confessed, but for that word by you so seldom spoke  
By us so freely on your part performed,  
We hold us much engaged.   Gener. 

I pray, no compliment,  
It is a thing I do not use myself,  
Nor do I love 't in others.   Arth. 

For my part, could I at once dissolve myself to words  
And after turn them into matter; such  
And of that strength, as to attract the attention  
Of all the curious, and most itching ears  
Of this our Critic age; it could not make  
A theme amounting to your noble worth:  
You seem to me to super-arrogate,  
Supplying the defects of all your kindred  
To ennoble your own name: I now have done Sir.   Whet. 

hay day, this Gentleman speaks likes a Country  
Parson that had took his text out of Ovid's Metamorphosis.   Gener. 

Sir, you Hyperbolize;  
And I could chide you for't, but whilst you connive  
At this my Kinsman, I shall wink at you;  
'Twill prove an equal match.   Gener. 

Your name proclaims  
To be such as it speaks, you, Generous.   Gener. 
Still in that strain!  Arth. 

Sir, sir, whilst you persever to be good  
I must continue grateful.   Gener. 

Gentlemen, the greatest part of this day you see is spent  
In reading deeds, conveyances, and bonds,  
With sealing and subscribing; will you now  
Take part of a bad Supper.   Arth. 

We are like travellers  
And where such bait, they do not use to Inn.  
Our love and service to you.   Gener. 

The first I accept,  
The Last I entertain not, farewell Gentlemen.   Arth. 

we'll try if we can find in our way home  
When Hares come from their coverts, to reliffe,  
A course or too.   Whet. 
Say you so Gentlemen, nay then I am for your company still, 'tis said Hares are like Hermaphrodites, one while Male, and another Female, and that which begets this year, brings young ones the next; which some think to be the reason that witches take their shapes so oft: Nay if I lie Pliny lies too, but come, now I have light upon you, I cannot so lightly leave you farewell Uncle.  Gener. 

cousin I wish you would consort yourself,  
With such men ever, and make them your precedent,  
For a more genteel carriage.   Arth. 
Good Master Generous—  Exeunt, manet Generous. Enter Robert. Gen. 
Robin.  Rob. 
Sir.  Gen. 
Go call your Mistress hither.  Rob. 
My Mistress Sir, I do call her Mistress, as I do call you Master, but if you would have me call my Mistress to my Master, I may call loud enough before she can hear me.  Gener. 

Why she's not deaf I hope, I am sure since Dinner  
She had her hearing perfect.   Rob. 
And so she may have at Supper too for aught I know, but I can assure you she is not now within my call.  Gener. 

Sirrah you trifle, give me the Key o'th' Stable,  
I will go see my Gelding; i' th' mean time  
Go seek her out, say she shall find me there.   Rob. 
To tell you true sir, I shall neither find my Mistress here, nor you your Gelding there.  Gener. 
Ha! how comes that to pass?  Rob. 
Whilst you were busy about your writings, she came and commanded me to saddle your Beast, and said she would ride abroad to take the air.  Gener. 
Which of your fellows did she take along to wait on her?  Rob. 
None sir.  Gener. 
None! hath she used it often?  Rob. 
Oftener I am sure then she goes to Church, and leave out Wednesdays and Fridays.  Gener. 
And still alone?  Rob. 
If you call that alone, when nobody rides in her company.  Gen. 
But what times hath she sorted for these journeys?  Rob. 
Commonly when you are abroad, and sometimes when you are full of business at home.  Gener. 

To ride out often and alone, what sayth she  
When she takes horse, and at her back return?   Rob. 
Only conjures me that I shall keep it from you, than claps me in the fist with some small piece of silver, and then a Fish cannot be more silent than I.  Gen. 

I know her a good woman and well bred,  
Of an unquestioned carriage, well reputed  
Amongst her neighbours, reckoned with the best  
And o'er me most indulgent; though in many  
Such things might breed a doubt and jealousy,  
Yet I hatch no such frenzy. Yet to prevent  
The smallest jar that might betwixt us happen;  
Give her no notice that I know thus much.  
Besides I charge thee, when she craves him next  
He be denied: if she be vexed or moved  
Do not thou fear, I'll interpose myself  
Betwixt thee and her anger, as you tender  
Your duty and my service, see this done.   Rob. 
Now you have expressed your mind, I know what I have to do; first, not to tell her what I have told you &, next to keep her side-saddle from coming upon your gelding's back; but howsoever it is like to hinder me of many a round tester.  Gener. 

As oft as thou deniest her, so oft claim  
That taster from me, 't shall be roundly paid.   Rob. 
You say well in that sir, I dare take your word, you are an honest Gentleman, and my Master; and now take mine as I am your true servant, before she shall back your Gelding again in your absence, while I have the charge of his keeping; she shall ride me, or I'll ride her.  Gen. 

So much for that. Sirrah my Butler tells me  
My Seller is drunk dry, I mean those Bottles  
Of Sack and Claret, are all empty grown  
And I have guests tomorrow, my choice friends.  
Take the grey Nag i'th' stable, and those Bottles  
Fill at Lancaster,  
There where you use to fetch it.   Rob. 
Good news for me, I shall sir.  Gen. 

O Robin, it comes short of that pure liquour  
We drunk last Term in London at the Myter  
In Fleetstreet, thou remember'st it; methought  
It was the very spirit of the Grape,  
Mere quintessence of Wine.   Rob. 
Yes sir, I so remember it, that most certain it is I never shall forget it, my mouth waters ever since when I but think on't, whilst you were at supper above, the drawer had me down into the Cellar below, I know the way in again if I see't, but at that time to find the way out again, I had the help of more eyes than mine own: is the taste of that Ipsitate still in your palate sir?  Gener. 

What then? But vain are wishes, take those bottles  
And see them filled where I command you sir.   Rob. 
I shall: never could I have met with such a fair opportunity: for just in the mid way lies my sweetheart, as lovely a lass as any is in Lancashire, and kisses as sweetly: I'll see her going or coming, I'll have one smooch at thy lips, and be with thee to bring Mal Spencer.  Exit. Gen. 

Go hasten your return, what he hath told me  
Touching my wife is somewhat strange, no matter  
Be't as it will, it shall not trouble me.  
She hath not lain so long so near my side,  
That now I should be jealous.   Enter a soldier. Sold. 
You seem sir a Gentleman of quality, and no doubt but in your youth have been acquainted with affairs military, in your very looks there appears bounty, and in your person humanity. Please you to vouchsafe the tender of some small courtesy to help to bear a soldier into his country.  Gen. 

Though I could tax you friend, & justly too  
For begging 'gainst the Statute in that name,  
Yet I have ever been of that compassion,  
Where I see want, rather to pity it  
Than to use power. Where hast thou served?   Sold. 
With the Russian against the Polack, a heavy war, and hath brought me to this hard fate. I was took prisoner by the Pole, & after some few weeks of durance, got both my freedom and pass. I have it about me to show, please you to vouchsafe the perusal.  Gener. 
It shall not need. What Countryman.  Sold. 
Yorkshire sir. Many a sharp battle by land, and many a sharp storm at sea, many a long mile, and many a short meal, I have travelled and suffered ere I could reach thus far, I beseech you sir take my poor & wretched case into your worship's noble consideration.  Gener. 

Perhaps thou lov'st this wandring life  
To be an idle loitering beggar, than  
To eat of thine own labour.   Sold. 
ay sir! Loitering I defy sir, I hate laziness as I do leprosy: It is the next way to breed the scurvy, put me to hedge, ditch, plow, thresh, dig, delve, any thing: your worship shall find that I love nothing less than loitering.  Gener. 
Friend thou speakest well.  Enter Miller (his hands and face scratched, and bloody. Miller. 
Your Mill quoth he, if ever you take me in your mill again, I'll give you leave to cast my flesh to the dogs, and grind my flesh to powder, betwixt the Millstones. cat's do you call them, for their hugeness they might be cat a mountains, and for their claws, I think I have it here in red and white to show, I pray look here sir, a murrain take them, I'll be sworn they have scratched, where I am sure it itched not.  Gener. 
How cam'st thou in this pickle?  Ml. 
Yoiu see sir, and what you see, I have felt, & am come to give you to understand I'll not endure such another night if you would give me your mill for nothing, they say we Miller's are thieves: but I could as soon be hanged as steal one piece of a nap all the night long, good Landlord provide yourself of a new tenant, the noise of such caterwauling, & such scratching and clawing, before I would endure again, I'll be tied to the sail when the wind blows sharpest, and they fly swiftest, till I be torn into as many fitters as I have toes and fingers.  Sold. 
I was a Miller myself before I was a soldier. What one of my own trade should be so poorly spirited frighted with cats?  

Sir trust me with the Mill that he forsakes.  
Here is a blade that hangs upon this belt  
That spite of all these Rats, Cats, Weasels, Witches  
Or Dogs, or Devils, Shall so conjure them  
I'll quiet my possession.   Gener. 

Well spoke Soldier.  
I like thy resolution. Fellow, you then  
Have given the Mill quite over.   Mil. 
Over and over, here I utterly renounce it; nor would I stay in it longer, if you would give me your whole estate; nay if I say it, you may take my word Landlord.  Sold. 
I pray sir dare you trust your mill with me.  Gener. 

I dare, but I am loath, my reasons these.  
For many months, scarce any one hath lain there  
But have been strangely frighted in his sleep,  
Or from his warm bed drawn into the floor,  
Or clawed and scratched, as thou seest this poor man,  
So much, that it stood long untenanted,  
Till he late undertook it, now thine eyes  
Witness how he hath sped.   Sold. 
Give me the keys, I'll stand it all danger.  Gener. 
'Tis a match: deliver them.  Mil. 
marry with all my heart, and I am glad, I am so rid of 'em.  Exeunt. Enter Boy with a switch. Boy. 
Now I have gathered Bullies, and filled my belly pretty well, I'll go see some sport. There are gentlemen coursing in the meadow hard by; and 'tis a game that I love better than going to School ten to one.  Enter an invisible spirit. I. Adson with a brace of greyhouds. 
What have we here a brace of Greyhounds broke loose from their masters: it must needs be so, for they have both their collars and slips about their necks. Now I look better upon them, methinks I should know them, and so I do: these are Mr. robinson's dogs, that dwells some two miles off, I'll take them up, & lead them home to their master; it may be something in my way, for he is as liberal a gentleman, as any is in our country, Come Hector, come. Now if I could but start a Hare by the way, kill her, and carry her home to my supper, I should think I had made a better afternoon's work of it than gathering of bullies. Come poor curs along with me.  Exit. Enter Arthur, Bantam, Shakstone, and Whetstone. Arth. 
My Dog as yours.  Shak. 
For what?  Arth. 
A piece.  Shak. 
'Tis done.  Bant. 
I say the pied dog shall outstrip the brown.  Whe. 
And I'll take the brown dogs part against the pied  Bant. 
Yes when he's at his lap you'll take his part.  Arth. 
Bantam forbear him prithee.  Bant. 
He talks so like an Ass I have not patience to endure his non sense.  Whet. 
The brown dog for two pieces.  Bant. 
Of what?  Whet. 

Of what you dare; name them from the last  
Farthings with the double rings, to the late  
coined pieces which they say are all counterfeit.   Bant. 
Well sir, I take ●ou: will you cover these, give them into the hands of either of those two gentlemen.  Whet. 
What needs that? do you think my word and my money is not all one?  Bant. 
And weigh alike: both many grains too light.  Shak. 
Enough of that, I presume Mr. Whetstone, you are not ignorant what belongs to the sport of hunting.  Whet. 
I think I have reason, for I have been at the death of more Hares.  Bant. 
More than you shed the last fall of the leaf.  Whet. 
More than any man here I am sure. I should be loath at these years to be ignorant of haring or whoring. I know a hare close hunted, climb a tree.  Bant. 
To find out birds nests  Whet. 
Another leap into a river, nothing appearing above water, save only the tip of her nose to take breath.  Shak. 
Nay that's very likely, for no man can fish with an angle but his Line must be made of hare.  Whet. 

You say right, I know another, who to escape the  
dog's hath taken a house, and leapt in at a window.   Bant. 
It is thought you came into the World that way.  Whet. 
How mean you that?  Bant. 
Because you are a bastard.  Whet. 
Bastard! O base.  Bant. 
And thou art base all over.  Arth. 

Needs must I now condemn your indiscretion,  
To set your wit against his.   Whet. 
Bastard? that shall be tried; well Gentlemen concerning Hare-hunting you might have hard more, if he had had the grace to have said less, but for the word Bastard, if I do not tell my Uncle, I and my Aunt too, either when I would speak aught or go of the score for any thing, let me never be trusted, they are older than I, and what know I, but they might be by when I was begot; but if thou Bantam dost not hear of this with both thine ears, if thou hast them still, and not lost them by scribbling, instead of Whetstone call me Grindstone, and for Byblow, Bulfinch. Gentlemen, for two of you your company is fair and honest; but for you Bantam, remember and take notice also, that I am a bastard, and so much I'll testify to my Aunt and Uncle.  Exit. Arth. 
What have you done, 'twill grieve the good old Gentleman, to hear him baffled thus.  Bant. 

I was in a cold sweat ready to faint  
The time he stayed amongst us.   Shak. 

But come, now the Hare is found and started,  
She shall have Law, so to our sport.   Exit. Enter Boy with the Greyhouds. 
A Hare, a Hare, hallo, halloe, the Devil take these curs, will they not stir, halloe, halloe, there, there, there, what are they grown so lither and so lazy? Are Mr. Robinson's dogs turned tykes with a wanion? the Hare is yet in sight, halloe, halloe, marry hang you for a couple of mongrels (if you were worth hanging, & have you served me thus? nay then I'll serve you with the like sauce, you shall to the next bush, there will I tie you, and use you like a couple of curs as you are, & though not lash you, yet lash you whilst my switch will hold, nay since you have left your speed, I'll see if I can put spirit into you, and put you in remembrance what halloe, halloe means.  As he beats them, there appears before him, Goody Dickison, and the Boy upon the dogs, going in. 
Now bless me heaven, one of the Greyhounds turned into a woman, the other into a boy! The lad I never saw before, but her I know well; it is my gammer Dickison.  G. Dick. 

Sirrah, you have served me well to swinge me thus.  
You young rogue, you have used me like a dog.   Boy. 
When you had put yourself into a dog's skin, I pray how could I help it; but gammer are not you a Witch? if you be, I beg upon my knees you will not hurt me.  Dickis. 

Stand up my boy, for thou shalt have no harm,  
Be silent, speak of nothing thou hast seen.  
And here's a shilling for thee.   Boy. 
I'll have none of your money gammer, because you are a Witch: and now she is out of her four legged shape, I'll see if with my two legs I can outrun her.  Dickis. 
Nay sirrah, though you be young, and I old, you are not so nimble, nor I so lame, but I can overtake you.  Boy. 

But Gammer what do you mean to do with me  
Now you have me?   Dickis. 

To hug thee, stroke thee, and embrace thee thus,  
And teach thee twenty thousand pretty things.  
So thou tell no tales; and boy this night  
Thou must along with me to a brave feast.   Boy. 
Not I gammer indeed-la la, I dare not stay on't late, My father is a fell man, and if I be out long, will both chide and beat me.  Dickis. 

Not sirrah, then perforce thou shalt along,  
This bridle helps me still at need,  
And shall provide us of a steed.  
Now sirrah, take your shape and be  
Prepared to hurry him and me.  
Now look and tell me where's the lad become.   Exit. Boy. 

The boy is vanished, and I can see nothing in his stead  
But a white horse ready saddled and bridled.   Dickis. 

And that's the horse we must bestride,  
On which both thou and I must ride,  
Thou boy before and I behind,  
The earth we tread not, but the wind,  
For we must progress through the air,  
And I will bring thee to such fare  
As thou ne'er sawst, up and away,  
For now no longer we can stay.   She catches him up, & turning round. Exit Boy. 
Help, help.  Enter Robin and Mall. 
Thanks my sweet Mall for thy courteous entertainment, thy cream, thy cheesecakes, and every good thing, this, this, & this for all.  kiss. Mal. 
But why in such haste good Robin?  Robin. 
I confess my stay with thee is sweet to me, but I must spur Cut the faster for't, to be at home in the morning, I have yet to Lancaster to ride tonight, and this my bandileer of bottles, to fill tonight, and then half a score mile to ride by currycomb time, i'the morning, or the old man chides Mal.  Mal. 
He shall not chide thee, fear it not.  Robin. 
Pray Bacchus I may please him with his wine, which will be the hardest thing to do; for since he was last at London and tasted the Divinity of the Mitre, scarce any liquor in Lancashire will go down with him, sure, sure he will never be a Puritan, he holds so well with the Mitre.  Mal. 
Well Robert, I find your love by your haste from me, I'll undertake you shall be at Lancaster, & twice as far, & yet at home time enough, and be ruled by me.  Rob. 
Thou art a witty rogue, and thinkst to make me believe any thing, because I saw thee make thy broom sweep the house without hands tother day.  Mal. 
You shall see more than that presently, because you shall believe me; you know the house is all a-bed here: and I dare not be missed in the morning. Besides, I must be at the wedding of Lawrence and Parnell tomorrow.  Rob. 
I your old sweet heart Lawrence? Old love will not be forgotten  Mal. 
I care not for the loss of him, but if I fit him not hang me: but to the point, if I go with you tonight, and help you to as good wine as your master desires, and you keep your time with him, you will give me a pint for my company.  Rob. 
Thy belly full wench.  Mal. 
I'll but take up my milk pail and leave it in the field, till our coming back in the morning, and we'll away.  Rob. 
Go fetch it quickly then.  Mal. 
No Robert, rather than leave your company so long, it shall come to me.  Rob. 
I would but see that.  The Pail goes. Mal. 
Look yonder, what do you think on't.  Rob. 
Light, it comes; and I do think there is so much of the Devil in't as will turn all the milk shall come in't these seven years, and make it burn too, till it stink worse than the Proverb of the bishop's foot.  Mal. 
Look you sir, here I have it, will you get up and away.  Rob. 
My horse is gone, nay prithee Mal. thou hast set him away, leave thy Roguery.  Mal. 
Look again.  Rob. 
There stands a black long-sided jade: mine was a trussed grey.  Mal. 

Yours was too short to carry double such a journey.  
Get up I say, you shall have your own again i'th' morning.   Rob. 
Nay but, nay but.  Mal. 
Nay, and you stand butting now, I'll leave you to look your horse. Pail on afore to the field, and stay till I come.  Rob. 
Come away then, heigh for Lancaster: stand up.  Exeunt  

ACTVS, III. SCENA, I.  Enter old Seely and Ióane his Wife. Seely. 
COme away wife, come away, and let us be ready to break the Cake over the Bride's head at her entrance; we will have the honour of it, we that have played the Steward and Cook at home, though we lost Church by't, and saw not Parson Knit-knot do his office, but we shall see all the house rites performed; and.— oh what a day of jollity and tranquillity is here towards?  Ioane. 
You are so frolic and so crank now, upon the truce is taken amongst us, because our wrangling shall not wrong the Wedding, but take heed (you were best) how ye behave yourself, lest a day to come may pay for all.  Seel. 
I fear nothing, and I hope to die in this humour.  Joan. 
Oh how hot am I! rather than I would dress such another dinner this twelvemonth, I would wish Wedding quite out of this years' Almanac.  Seel. 
I'll fetch a Cup of Sack Wife—  Ioan. 
How brag he is of his liberty, but the holy day carries it.  Seel. 
Here, here sweetheart, they are lóng methinks a coming, the Bells have rung out this half hour, hark now the wind brings the sound of them sweetly again.  Ioan. 
They ring backwards methinks.  Seel. 
I fack they do, sure the greatest fire in the Parish is in our Kitchen, and there's no harm done yet, no 'tis some merry conceit of the stretch-ropes the Ringers, now they have done, and now the Wedding comes, hark, the Fiddlers and all, now have I lived to see a day, come, take our stand, and be ready for the bridecake, which we will so crack and crumble upon her crown: o they come, they come.  Enter Musicians, Lawrence, Parnell, Win. Mal. Spencer, two Country Lasses Doughty, Greg. Arthur, Shakton, Bantam, and Whetstone. All. 
joy, health; and children to the married pair.  Lawr. 
& Parn. We thank you all.  Lawr. 
So pray come in and fare.  Parn. 
As well as we and taste of every cate:  Lawr. 
With bonny Bridegroom and his love mate.  Arth. 
This begins bravely.  Doug. 
They agree better than the Bells e'en now, 'slid they sang tunably till we were all out of the Church, and then they clattered as the devil had been in the Belfry: on in the name of Wedlock, Fiddlers on.  Lawr. 
On with your melody.  Bant. 

Enter the Gates with joy,  
And as you enter play the sack of Troy.   The Fiddlers pass through, and play the battle. The Spirit appears. Ioan. 
Welcome Bride Parnell.  Seel. 

Bridegroom Lawrence eke,  
In you before, for we this cake must break.  
Over the Bride—  
Forgive me- what's become  
O' th' Cake wife!   Exit Lawrence. As they lift up the Cake, the Spirit snatches it, and powers down bran. Joan. 
It slipped out of my hand, and is fall'n into crumbs I think.  Dought. 
crumbs? the devil of crumb is here, but bran; nothing but bran, what prodigy is this?  Parn. 
Is my best Brides Cake come to this! oh uvea warth it.  Exit Parn Seely, Joan, and Maids. Whet. 
How daintily the Bride's hair is powdered with it.  Arth. 
My hair stands an end to see it.  Bant. 
And mine.  Shak. 
I was never so amazed!  Dougb. 
What can it mean?  Greg. 
Pax, I think not on't, 'tis but some of my Father and Mother's roguery, this is a Law-day with 'em, to do what they list.  Whet. 
I never fear any thing, so long as my Aunt has but bidden me think of her, and she'll warrant me.  Dough. 
Well Gentlemen, let's follow the rest in, and fear nothing yet, the house smells well of good cheer.  Seel. 
Gentlemen, will it please you draw near, the guests are now all come, and the house almost full, meat's taken up.  Dough. 
We were now coming.  Seel. 
But son Gregory, Nephew Arthur, and the rest of the young Gentlemen, I shall take it for a favour if you will (it is an office which very good Gentlemen do in this Country) accompany the Bridegroom in serving the meat.  All. 
With all our hearts.  Seely. 
Nay neighbour Doughty, your years shall excuse you.  Dough. 
Peugh, I am not so old but I can carry more meat than I can eat, if the young rascals could carry their drink as well, the Country would be quieter—  Knock within, as at dresser. Seel. 
Well fare your hearts,— the dresser calls in Gentlemen,  Exeunt Gentlemen. 
'Tis a busy time, yet will I review the Bill of fare, for this day's dinner— (Reads) for 40. people of the best quality, 4. messes of meat; viz. a leg of Mutton in plum-broth, a dish of Marrowbones, a Capon in white-broth, a Sirloin of beef, a Pig, a Goose, a turkey, and two Pies: for the second course, to every mess 4. Chickens in a dish, a couple of rabbits, Custard, Flawn, Florentines, and stewed prunes,— all very good Country fare, and for my credit,—  Enter musician playing before, Lawrence, Doughty, Arthur, Shakton Bantam, Whetstone, and Gregory, with dishes: A Spirit (over the door) does some action to the dishes as they enter. 
The service enters, O well said music, play up the meat to the Table till all be served in, I'll see it pass in answer to my bill.  Dough. 
Hold up your head Mr. Bridegroom.  Lawr. 
On afore Fiddlers, my double cewles in my honds.  Seely. 
Inprime, a leg of Mutton in plum-broth,— how now Mr. Bridegroom, what carry you?  Lawr. 
'Twere hot even now, but now it's cawed as a stone.  Seel. 
A stone, 'tis horn man.  Lawr. 
Awe—  Exit Fiddlers. Seely. 
It was Mutton, but now 'tis the horns on't.  Lawr. 
Awe where's my Bride—  Exit. Dough. 
'Zookes, I brought as good a sirloin of Beef from the Dresser as Knife could be put to, and see— I'll stay i' this house no longer.  Arth. 
And if this were not a Capon in white broth, I am one i' the Coop.  Shak. 
All, all's transformed, look you what I have!  Bant. 
And I.  Whet. 
And I! Yet I fear nothing thank my Aunt.  Greg. 
I had a Pie that is not opened yet, I'll see what's in that— live Birds as true as I live, look where they fly!  Exit Spirit. Dough. 
Witches, live Witches, the house is full of witches, if we love our lives let's out on't.  Enter Joane and Win. Ioan. 
O husband, O guests, O son, O Gentlemen, such a chance in a Kitchen was never heard of, all the meat is flown out o' the chimney top I think, and nothing instead of it, but Snakes, Bats, Frogs, Beetles, Hornets, and Humble-bees; all the Salads are turned to Jews-ears, Mushrooms, and Puck fists; and all the Custards into Cow shards!  Dought. 
What shall we do, dare we stay any longer?  Arth. 
Dare we! why not, I defy all Witches, and all their works; their power on our meat, cannot reach our persons.  Whet. 
I say so too, and so my Aunt ever told me, so long I will fear nothing; be not afraid Mr. Doughty.  Dough. 
zooks, I fear nothing living that I can see more than you, and that's nothing at all, but to think of these invisible mischiefs, troubles me I confess.  Arth. 
Sir I will not go about to overrule your reason, but but for my part I will not out of a house on a Bridal day, till I see the last man borne.  Dough. 
zooks thou art so brave a fellow that I will stick to thee, and if we come off handsomely, I am an old Bachelor thou know'st, and must have an heir, I like thy spirit, where's the Bride? where's the Bridegroom? where's the Music? where be the Lasses? ha' you any wine i' the house, though we make no dinner, let's try if we can make an afternoon.  Ioan. 
Nay sir if you please to stay, now that the many are frighted away, I have some good cold meats, and half a dozen bottles of Wine.  Seel. 
And I will bid you welcome.  Dough. 
Say you me so, but will not your son be angry, and your daughter chide you.  Greg. 
Fear not you that sir, for look you I obey my Father.  Win. 
And I my Mother.  Ioan. 
And we are all at this instant as well and as sensible of our former errors, as you can wish us to be.  Dough. 
nam, if the Witches have but robbed of your meat, and restored your reason, here has been no hurt done today, but this is strange, and as great a wonder as the rest to me.  Arth. 
It seems though these Hags had power to make the Wedding cheer a Deceptio visus, the former store has scaped 'em.  Dough. 
I am glad on't, but the devil good 'em with my sirloin, I thought to have set that by mine own Trencher— But you have cold meat you say?  Joan. 
Yes Sir.  Dought. 
And Wine you say?  Ioane. 
Yes sir.  Dought. 
I hope the Country wenches and the Fiddlers are not gone.  Win. 
They are all here, and one the merriest Wench; that makes all the rest so laugh and tickle.  Seel. 
Gentlemen will you in?  All. 
Agreed on all parts.  Dought, 
If not a Wedding we will make a Wake on't, and away with the Witch; I fear nothing now you have your wits again: but look you, hold 'em while you have 'em.  Exeunt. Enter Generous, and Robin, with a Paper. Gener. 
I confess thou hast done a Wonder in fetching me so good Wine, but my good Servant Robert, go not about to put a Miracle upon me, I will rather believe that Lancaster affords this Wine, which I thought impossible till I tasted it, then that thou couldst in one night fetch it from London.  Rob. 
I have known when you have held me for an honest fellow, and would have believed me.  Gener. 
Th' art a Knave to wish me to believe this, forgime, I would have sworn if thou hadst stayed but time answerable for the journey (to his that flew to Paris and back to London in a day) it had been the same Wine, but it can never fall within the compass of a Christian's belief, that thou couldst ride above three hundred miles in 8. hours: You were no longer out, and upon one Horse too, and in the Night too!  Rob. 
And carry a Wench behind me too, and did something else too, but I must not speak of her lest I be devil-torn.  Gen. 
And fill thy bottles too, and come home half drunk too, for so thou art, thou wouldst never ha' had such a fancy else!  Rob. 
I am sorry I have said so much, and not let Lancaster have the credit o' the Wine.  Gen. 
O are you so! and why have you abused me and yourself then all this while, to glorify the Myter in Fleetstreet?  Rob. 
I could say sir, that you might have the better opinion of the Wine, for there are a great many palates in the Kingdom that can relish no Wine, unless it be of such a Tavern, and drawn by such a Drawer—  Gen. 
I said, and I say again, if I were within ten mile of London, I durst swear that this was Mitre Wine, and drawn by honest Jack Pain.  Rob. 
Nay then sir I swore, and I swear again, honest jack Pain drew it.  Gener. 
Ha, ha, ha, if I could believe there were such a thing as Witchcraft, I should think this slave were bewitched now with an opinion.  Rob. 
Much good do you sir, your Wine and your mirth, and my place for your next Groom, I desire not to stay to be laughed out of my opinion.  Gen. 
Nay be not angry Robin, we must not part so, and how does my honest Drawer? ha, ha, ha; and what news at London, Robin? ha, ha, ha; but your stay was so short I think you could hear none, and such your haste home that you could make none: is't not so Robin? ha, ha, ha, what a strange fancy has good Wine begot in his head?  Rob. 
Now will I push him over and over with a piece of paper: Yes sir, I have brought you something from London.  Gen. 
Come on, now let me hear.  Rob. 
Your honest Drawer sir, considering that you considered him well for his good wine—  Gen. 
What shall we hear now?  Rob. 
Was very careful to keep or convey this paper to you, which it seems you dropped in the room there.  Gener. 
Bless me! this paper belongs to me indeed, 'tis an acquittance, and all I have to show for the payment of one hundred pound, I took great care for't, and could not imagine where or how I might lose it, but why may not this be a trick? this Knave may find it when I lost it, and conceal it till now to come over me withal. I will not trouble my thoughts with it further at this time, well Robin look to your business, and have a care of my Gelding.  Exit Generous. Robin. 
Yes Sir. I think I have nettled him now, but not as I was nettled last night, three hundred Miles a Night upon a Rawboned Devil, as in my heart it was a Devil, and then a Wench that shared more o' my back then the said Devil did oF my Bum, this is rank riding my Masters: but why had I such an itch to tell my Master of it, and that he should believe it; I do now wish that I had not told, and that he will not believe it, for I dare not tell him the means: 'Sfoot my Wench and her friends the Fiends, will tear me to pieces if I discover her; a notable rogue, she's at the Wedding now, for as good a Maid as the best o'em— O my Mistress.  Enter Mrs. Generous, with a Bridle. Mrs. 
Robin.  Rob. 
I Mistress.  Mrs. 
Quickly good Robin, the grey Gelding.  Rob. 
What other horse you please Mistress.  Mrs. 
And why not that?  Rob. 
Truly Mistress pray pardon me, I must be plain with you, I dare not deliver him you; my master has ta'en notice of the ill case you have brought him home in divers times.  Mrs. 
O is it so, and must he be made acquainted with my actions by you, and must I then be controlled by him, and now by you; you are a saucy Groom.  Rob. 
You may say your pleasure.  He turns from her, Mrs. 
No sir, I'll do my pleasure.  She Bridles him. Rob. 
Awe.  Mrs. 

Horse, horse, see thou be,  
And where I point thee carry me.   Exeunt Neighing. Enter Arthur, Shakston, and Bantam. Arth. 
Was there ever such a medley of mirth, madness, and drunkenness, shuffled together.  Shak. 
Thy Uncle and Aunt, old Mr. Silly and his wife, do nothing but kiss and play together like Monkeys.  Arth. 
Yes, they do overlove one another now.  Bant. 
And young Gregory and his sister do as much overdo their obedience now to their Parents.  Arth. 
And their Parents as much overdote upon them, they are all as far beyond their wits now in loving one another, as they were wide of them before in crossing.  Shak. 
Yet this is the better madness.  Bant. 
But the married couple that are both so daintily whittled, that now they are both mad to be a-bed before Suppertime, and by and by he will, and she wo' not; straight she will and he wo' not, the next minute they both forget they are married, and defy one another.  Arth. 
My sides e'en ache with laughter.  Shak. 
But the best sport of all is, the old Bachelor Master Doughty, that was so cautious, & feared every thing to be witchcraft, is now wound up to such a confidence that there is no such thing, that he dares the Devil do his worst, and will not out o'the house by all persuasion, and all for the love of the husbandman's daughter within, Mal Spencer.  Arth. 
There I am in some danger, he put me into half a belief I shall be his heir, pray love she be not a witch to charm his love from me. Of what condition is that wench dost thou know her?  Sha. 
A little, but Whetstone knows her better.  Arth. 
Hang him rogue, he'll belie her, and speak better than she deserves, for he's in love with her too. I saw old Doughty give him a box o'the ear for kissing her, and he turned about as he did by thee yesterday, and swore his Aunt should know it.  Bant. 
Who would ha'thought that impudent rogue would have come among us after such a baffle.  Sha. 
He told me, he had complained to his Aunt on us, and that she would speak with us.  Arth. 
we will all to her to patch up the business, for the respect I bear her husband, noble Generous.  Bant. 
Here he comes.  Enter Whetstone. Arth. 

Hark you Mr. By-blow do you know the lass within?  
What do you call her, Mal Spencer?   Whet. 
Sir, what I know I'll keep to myself, a good civil merry harmless rogue she is, and comes to my Aunt often, and that's all I know by her.  Arth. 
You do well to keep it to yourself sir.  Whet. 
And you may do well to question her if you dare. For the testy old coxcomb that will not let her go out of his hand.  Sha. 
Take heed, he's at your heels.  Enter Doughty, Mal, two country Lasses Dough. 

Come away Wenches, where are you Gentlemen?  
Play Fiddlers: let's have a dance, ha my little rogue.  
zooks what ails thy nose.   Kisses Mal. Mal. 
My nose! Nothing sir.— turns about— Yet methought a fly touched it. Did you see any thing?  Dou. 
No, no, yet I would almost ha' sworn, I would not have sprite or goblin blast thy face, for all their kingdom. But hang't there is no such thing: Fiddlers will you play?  Selengers Round. 
Gentlemen will you dance?  All. 
With all our hearts.  Arth. 
But stay where's this household?  
This Family of love? Let's have them into the revels.  Dou. 
Hold a little then.  Sha. 
Here they come all  
In a True-love knot.  Enter Seely, joane, Greg, Win. Greg. 
O Father twenty times a day is too little to ask you blessing.  See. 
Go too you are a rascal: and you housewife teach your daughter better manners: I'll ship you all for new England else.  Bant. 
The knot's untied, and this is another change.  Ioane. 
Yes I will teach her manners, or put her out to spin two penny tow: so you dear husband will but take me into favour: I'll talk with you dame when the strangers are gone.  Greg. 
Dear Father.  Win. 
Dear Mother.  Greg. Win. 
Dear Father and Mother pardon us but this time.  See. Ioa. 
Never, and therefore hold your peace.  Dough. 
Nay that's unreasonable.  Greg. Win. 
Oh!— Weep.  See. 
But for your sake I'll forbear them, and bear with any thing this day.  Arth. 
Do you note this? Now they are all worse than ever they were, in a contrary vain: What think you of Witchcraft now?  Dou. 
They are all natural fool's man, I find it now.  
Art thou mad to dream of Witchcraft?  Arth. 
He's as much changed and bewitched as they I fear.  Dough. 
hay day! Here comes the pair of boiled Lovers in Sorrell sops.  Enter Lawrence and Parnell. Lawr. 
Nay dear honey, nay honey, but eance, eance.  Par. 
nam, na, I have swarm, I have swarm, not a bit afore bed, and look ye it's but now dancing time.  Dough. 
Come away Bridegroom, we'll stay your stomach with a dance. Now masters play a good: come my Lass we'll show them how 'tis  Music. Selengers round. As they begin to dance, they play another tune, then fall into many. Ar. Ban. Sha. 
Whether now, hoe?  Dou. 
hay day! why you rogues.  Whet. 
What does the Devil ride o' your fiddlesticks.  Dou. 
You drunken rogues, hold, hold, I say, and begin again soberly the beginning of the World  Music. Every one a several tune. Arth. Bant. Shak 
Ha, ha, ha, How's this?  Bant. 
Every one a several tune  Dou. 
This is something towards it. I bade them play the beginning o' the World, and they play, I know not what.  Arth. 
No 'tis running o' the country several ways.  
But what do you think on't.  Music cease. Dough 
Think! I think they are drunk Prithee do not thou think of Witchcraft; for my part, I shall as soon think this maid one, as that there's any in Lancashire.  Mal. 
Ha, ha ha.  Dough. 
Why dost thou laugh?  Mal. 
To think this Bridegroom should once ha' been mine, but he shall rue it, I'll hold him this point on't, and that's all I care for him.  Dough. 
A witty Rogue.  Whet. 
I tell you sir, they say she made a pail follow her tother day up two pair of stairs.  Dough. 
You lying Rascal.  Arth. 
O sir forget your anger.  Mal. 
Look you Mr. Bridegroom, what my care provides for you  Lawrence. 
What, a point?  Mal. 
Yes put it in your pocket it may stand you instead anon, when all your points be ta'en away, to truss up your trinkets, I mean your slopes withal.  Lawr. 
Mal for awed acquaintance I will ma' thy point a point of preferment. It shan be the Foreman of a haell jewry o'points, and right here will I wear it.  Par. 
Wy'a, wy'a, awed leove woe no be forgotten, but ay's never be jealous the mare for that.  Arth. 
Play fiddlers any thing.  Dou. 
ay, and let's see your faces, that you play fairly with us.  musician's show themselves above. Fid. 
We do sir, as loud as we can possibly.  Sha. 
Play out that we may hear you.  Fid. 
So we do sir, as loud as we can possibly.  Dough. 
Do you hear any thing?  All. 
Nothing not we sir.  Dough. 

'Tis so, the rogues are bribed to cross me,  
And their Fiddles shall suffer, I will break 'em as small as the  
Bride cake was today.   Arth. 
Look you sir, they'll save you a labour, they are doing it themselves.  Whet. 
Oh brave Fiddlers, there was never better scuffling for the Tudberry Bull.  Mal. 
This is mother johnson and Gooddy dickison's roguery, I find it but I cannot help it, yet I will have music: sir there's a Piper without, would be glad to earn money.  Whet. 
She has spoke to purpose, & whether this were witchcraft or not: I have heard my Aunt say twenty times, that no Witchcraft can take hold of a Lancashire Bagpipe, for itself is able to charm the Devil, I'll fetch him.  Dough. 
Well said, a good boy nów; come bride and bridegroom, leave your kissing and fooling, and prepare to come into the dance. we'll have a Hornpipe, and then a posset and to bed when you please. Welcome Piper, blow till thy bag crack again, a lusty Hornpipe, and all into the dance, nay young and old.  Dance. Lawrence and Parnell reel in the dance. At the end, Mal vanishes, & the piper. All. 
Bravely performed.  Dou. 
Stay, where's my lass?  Arth. Ban. Shak 
Vanished, she and the Piper both vanished, nobody knows how.  Dou. 
Now do I plainly perceive again, here has been nothing but witchery all this day; therefore into your posset, & agree among yourselves as you can, I'll out o'the house. And Gentlemen, if you love me or yourselves, follow me.  Ar. Bant. Sha. Whet. 
ay, ay, Away, away.  Exeunt. See. 
Now good son, wife, and daughter, let me entreat you be not angry.  Win. 
O you are a trim mother are you not?  Ioa. 
Indeed child, I'll do so no more.  Greg. 
Now sir, I'll talk with you, your champions are all gone.  Lawr. 
we'll sir, and what won ye deow than?  Par. 
Whay, whay, what's here to do? Come awaw, and whickly, and see us into our Brayd Chember, & delicately lodged together, or we'll whap you out o'dores i'th' morn to sojourn in the common, come away.  All. 
we follow ye.  Exeunt.  

ACTVS, IV. SCAENA, I.  Enter Mistress Generous and Robin. 
KNow you this gingling bridle, if you see't again? I wanted but a pair of gingling spurs to make you mend your pace, and put you into a sweat.  Robin. 
Yes, I have reason to know it after my hard journey, they say there be light women, but for your own part, though you be merry. Yet I may be sorry for your heaviness.  Mrs. Gener. 
I see thou art not quite tired by shaking of thyself, 'tis a sign that as thou hast brought me hither, so thou art able to bear me back, and so you are like good Robert. You will not let me have your master's gelding, you will not. Well fir, as you like this journey, so deny him to me hereafter.  Rob. 
You say well mistress, you have jaded me (a pox take you for a jade.) Now I bethink myself how damnably did I ride last night, and how devilishly have I been rid now.  Mrs. 
Do you grumble you groom? Now the bridle's of, I turn thee to grazing gramercy my good horse, I have no better provender for thee at this time, thou hadst best like Aesop's Ass to feed upon Thistles, of which this place will afford thee plenty. I am bid to a better banquet, which done, I'll take thee up from grass, spur cut, and take a short cut home. Farewell.  Robin. 
A pox upon your tail.  Enter all the Witches and Mal, at several doors. All. 
The Lady of the feast is come, welcome, welcome.  Mrs. 
Is all the cheer that was prepared to grace the wedding feast, yet come?  Gooddy Dick 

part of it's here.  
The other we must pull for. But what's he?   Mrs. 
My horse, my horse, ha, ha, ha.  All. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Exeunt Rob. 
My horse, my horse, I would I were now some country Major, and in authority, to see if I would not venture to rouse your Satanical sisterhood: Horse, horse, see thou be, & where I point thee, carry me: is that the trick on't? the devil himself shall be her carrier next if I can shun her: & yet my Mr. will not believe there's any witches: there's no running away; for I neither know how nor whether, beside to my thinking, there's a deep ditch, & a high quickset about me, how shall I pass the time? What place is this? it looks like an old barn: I'll peep in at some cranny or other, and try if I can see what they are doing. Such a bevy of beldames did I never behold; and cramming like so many Cormorants: Marry choke you with a mischief.  Gooddy Dickison. 
Whoop, whir, here's a stir, never a cat, never a cur, but that we must have this demur.  Mal. 
A second course.  Mrs. Gen. 

Pull, and pull hard  
For all that hath lately been prepared  
For the great wedding feast.   Mal. 

As chief.  
Of Doughtyes sirloin of roast Beef.   All. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Meg. 
'Tis come, 'tis come.  Mawd. 
Where hath it all this while been?  Meg 

Some  
Delay hath kept it, now 'tis here,  
For bottles next of wine and beer,  
The Merchant's cellars they shall pay for't.   Mrs. Gener. 

Well,  
What sod or roast meat more, pray tell.   Good. Dick 

Pull for the Poultry, Foul, & Fish,  
For empty shall not be a dish.   Robin. 
A pox take them, must only they feed upon hot meat, and I upon nothing but cold salads  Mrs. Gener. 

This meat is tedious, now some Fairy,  
Fetch what belongs unto the Dairy.   Mal. 

That's Butter, Milk, Whey, Curds and Cheese,  
we nothing by the bargain lose.   All. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Goody Dickison. 
Boy, there's meat for you.  Boy. 
Thank you.  Gooddy Dickis 
And drink too.  Meg. 
What Beast was by thee hither rid?  Mawd. 
A Badger nab.  Meg. 

And I bestrid  
A Porcupine that never pricked.   Mal. 

The dull sides of a Bear I kicked.  
I know how you rid Lady Nan,   Mrs. Gen, 
Ha, ha, ha, upon the knave my man.  Rob. 
A murrain take you, I am sure my hooves paid for't.  Boy. 
Meat lie there, for thou hast no taste, and drink there, for thou hast no relish, for in neither of them is there either salt or savour.  All. 
Pull for the posset, pull.  Robin. 
The Bride's posset on my life, nay if they come to their spoon meat once, I hope they'll break up their feast presently.  Mrs. Gen. 

So those that are our waiters near,  
Take hence this Wedding cheer.  
We will be lively all, and make this barn our hall.   Gooddy Dick. 

You our familiars, come.  
In speech let all be dumb,  
And to close up our Feast,  
To welcome every guest  
A merry round let's dance.   Meg. 

Some Music then i'th' air  
Whilst thus by pair and pair,  
We nimbly foot it; strike.   Music. Mal. 
We are obeyed.  Spirit. 
And we hell's ministers shall lend our aid.  Dance and Song together. In the time of which the Boy speaks. Boy. 
Now whilst they are in their jollity, and do not mind me, I'll steal away, and shift for myself, though I lose my life for't.  Exit. Meg. 

Enough, enough, now part,  
To see the brides vexed heart,  
The bridegrooms too and all,  
That vomit up their gall  
For lack o'th' wedding cheer.   Gooddy Dickison. 
But stay, where's the Boy, look out, if he escape us, we are all betrayed.  Meg. 

No following further, yonder horsemen come,  
In vain is our pursuit, let's break up court.   Gooddy Dickison. 
Where shall we next met?  Mawd. 
At Mill.  Meg. 
But when?  Mrs. 
At Night.  Meg. 

To horse, to horse.  
2. where's my Mamilian.  
1. And my Mamilian.  
3. My Tiger to bestride.   Robin stands amazed at this. Mal. 
My Puggy.  Mrs. Gen. 

My horse.  
The night we have Feasted, now comes on the day.   All. 
Away, away,  Mrs. 

Come sirrah, stoop your head like a tame jade,  
Whilst I put on your Bridle.   Rob. 
I pray Mistress ride me as you would be rid.  Mrs. 
That's at full speed,  Rob. 

Nay then I'll try Conclusions.  
Mare Mare, see thou be,  
And where I point thee carry me.   A great noise within at their parting. Exeunt. Enter Mr. Generous, making him ready. Gen. 

I see what Man is loath to entertain,  
Offers itself to him most frequently,  
And that which we most covet to embrace,  
Doth seldom court us, and proves most averse;  
For I, that never could conceive a thought  
Of this my woman worthy a rebuke,  
(As one that in her youth bore her so fairly  
That she was taken for a seeming Saint)  
To render me such just occasion,  
That I should now distrust her in her age;  
Distrust! I cannot, that would bring me in  
The poor aspersion of fond jealousy;  
Which even from our first meeting I abhorred.  
The Gentile fashion sometimes we observe  
To sunder beds; but most in these hot months  
june, july August, so we did last night.  
Now I (as ever tender of her health)  
And therefore rising early as I use,  
Entering her Chamber to bestow on her  
A customed Visit; find the Pillow swelled,  
Unbruised with any weight, the sheets unruffled,  
The Curtains neither drawn, nor bed laid down;  
Which shows, she slept not in my house tonight.  
Should there be any contract betwixt her  
And this my Groom, to abuse my honest trust;  
I should not take it well, but for all this  
Yet cannot I be jealous. Robin—   Enter Robin. Gen. 

Is my horse safe, lusty, and in good plight?  
What, feeds he well?   Rob. 
Yes sir, he's broad buttocked and full flanked, he doth not bate an ace of his flesh.  Gen. 
When was he rid last?  Rob. 
Not sir since you backed him.  Gen. 

Sirrah, take heed I find you not a Knave,  
Have you not lent him to your Mistress late?  
So late as this last Night?   Rob. 
Who I sir, may I die sir, if you find me in a lie sir.  Gener. 
Then I shall find him where I left him last.  Robin. 
No doubt Sir.  Gener. 
Give me the Key o'th' Stable.  Robin. 
There Sir.  Gen. 

Sirrah, your Mistress was abroad all night,  
Nor is she yet come home, if there I find him not,  
I shall find thee, what to this present hour  
I never did suspect; and I must tell there  
Will not be to thy profit.   Exit. Rob. 
Well sir, find what you can, him you shall find, and what you find else; it may before that, instead of Gramercy horse, you may say Gramercy Robin; you will believe there are no Witches! had I not been late bridled, I could have said more, but I hope she is tied to the rack that will confess something, and though not so much as I know, yet no more than I dare justify—  Enter Generous. 
Have you found your Gelding sir?  Gen. 
Yes, I have.  Rob. 
I hope not spurred, nor put into a sweat, you may see by his plump belly and sleek legs he hath not been sore travailed.  Gener. 

Y'are a saucy Groom to receive horses  
Into my Stable, and not ask me leave.  
Is't for my profit to buy Hay and Oats  
For every strangers jades?   Rob. 
I hope sir you find none feeding there but your own, if there be any you suspect, they have nothing to champion, but the Bridle.  Gener. 
Sirrah, whose jade is that tied to the Rack?  Rob. 
The Mare you mean sir?  Gener. 
Yes, that old Mare.  Rob. 
Old do you call her? You shall find the mark still in her mouth, when the Bridle is out of it? I can assure you 'tis your own Beast.  Gen. 

A beast thou art to tell me so, hath the wine  
Not yet left working? not the Mitre wine?  
That made thee to believe witchcraft?  
Prithee persuade me,  
To be a drunken Sot like to thyself;  
And not to know mine own.   Rob. 
I'll not persuade you to any thing, you will believe nothing but what you see, I say the Beast is your own, and you have most right to keep her, she hath cost you more the currying, than all the Combs in your Stable are worth. You have paid for her Provender this twenty years and upwards, and furnished her with all the Caparisons that she hath worn, of my Knowledge, and because she hath been ridden hard the last Night, do you renounce her now?  Gener. 

Sirrah, I fear some stolen jade of your own  
That you would have me keep.   Rob. 
I am sure I found her no jade the last time I rid her, she carried me the best part of a hundred Miles in less than a quarter of an hour.  Gener. 
The devil she did!  Robin. 
Yes so I say, either the devil or she did; an't please you walk in and take off her Bridle, and then tell me who hath more right to her, you or I.  Gen. 

Well Robert, for this once I'll play the Groom,  
And do your office for you.   Exit. Rob. 
I pray do Sir, but take heed lest when the Bridle is out of her mouth, she put it not into yours; if she do, you are a gone man: if she but say once— Horse, horse, see thou be. Be you rid (if you please) for me.  Enter Mr. Generous and Mrs. Generous, he with a Bridle. Gen. 

My blood is turned to Ice, and my all vitals  
Have ceased their working! dull stupidity  
Surpriseth me at once, and hath arrested  
That vigorous agitation; Which till now  
Expressed a life within me: I methinks  
Am a mere Marble statue, and no man;  
Unweave my age O time, to my first thread;  
Let me lose fifty years in ignorance spent:  
That being made an infant once again,  
I may begin to know, what? or where am I  
To be thus lost in wonder.   Mrs. Gen. 
Sir.  Gen. 

Amazement still pursues me, how am I changed  
Or brought ere I can understand myself,  
Into this new World.   Rob. 
You will believe no Witches?  Gen. 

This makes me believe all, I any thing;  
And that myself am nothing: prithee Robin  
Lay me to my self open, what art thou,  
Or this new transformed Creature?   Rob. 
I am Robin, and this your wife, my Mrs.  Gen, 

Tell me the Earth  
Shall leave its seat, and mount to kiss the Moon;  
Or that the Moon enamoured of the Earth,  
Shall leave her sphere, to stoop to us thus low.  
What? what's this in my hand, that at an instant  
Can from a four legged Creature, make a thing  
So like a wife?   Rob. 
A Bridle, juggling Bridle Sir.  Gen. 

A Bridle, hence enchantment,  
A Viper were more safe within my hand  
Then this charmed Engine   Casts it away. Robin takes it up. Rob. 
Take heed Sir what you do, if you cast it hence, and she catch it up, we that are here now, may be rid as far as the Indies within these few hours, Mistress down of your mare's bones, or your marrowbones whether you please, and confess yourself to be what you are; and that's in plain English a Witch, a grand notorious Witch.  Gen. 
A Witch! my wife a Witch!  Rob. 
So it appears by the story.  Gener. 

The more I strive to unwind  
myself from this Meander, I the more  
Therein am intricated; prithee woman  
Art thou a Witch?   Mrs. 
It cannot be denied, I am such a cursed Creature.  Gen. 

Keep aloof, and do not come too near me, O my trust;  
Have I since first I understood myself,  
been of my soul so chary, still to study  
What best was for its health, to renounce all  
The works of that black Fiend with my best force  
And hath that Serpent twined me so about,  
That I must lie so often and so long  
With a Devil in my bosom!   Mrs. 
Pardon sir.  Gen. 

Pardon! Can such a thing as that be hoped?  
Lift up thine eyes (lost woman) to yon Hills;  
It must be thence expected: look not down  
Unto that horrid dwelling, which thou hast sought  
At such dear rate to purchase, prithee tell me,  
(For now I can believe) art thou a Witch?   Mrs. 
I am.  Gen. 

With that word I am thunderstruck,  
And know not what to answer, yet resolve me  
Hast thou made any contract with that Fiend  
The Enemy of Mankind?   Mrs. 
O I have.  Gen. 
What? and how far?  Mrs. 
I have promised him my soul.  Gen. 

Ten thousand times better thy Body had  
been promised to the Stake, I and mine too,  
To have suffered with thee in a hedge of flames:  
Then such a compact ever had been made. Oh—   Rob. 
What cheese sir, show yourself a man, though she appeared so late a Beast; Mistress confess all, better here than in a worse place, out with it.  Gen. 
Resolve me, how far doth that contract stretch?  Mrs. 

What interest in this Soul, myself could claim  
I freely gave him, but his part that made it  
I still reserve, not being mine to give.   Gen. 

O cunning Devil, foolish woman know  
Where he can claim but the least little part,  
He will usurp the whole; thou art a lost woman.   Mrs. 
I hope not so.  Gen. 
Why hast thou any hope?  Mrs. 
Yes Sir I have.  Gen. 
Make it appear to me.  Mrs. 

I hope I never bargained for that fire,  
Further than penitent tears have power to quench.   Gen. 
I would see some of them.  Mrs. 

You behold them now.  
(If you look on me with charitable eyes)  
Tinctured in blood, blood issuing from the heart,  
Sir I am sorry; when I look towards Heaven  
I beg a gracious Pardon; when on you  
methinks your Native goodness should not be  
Less pitiful than they: 'gainst both I have erred,  
From both I beg atonement.   Gener. 
May I presume't?  Mrs. 
I kneel to both your Mercies.  Gener. 
Know'st thou what a Witch is?  Mrs. 

Alas, None better,  
Or after mature recollection can be  
More sad to think on't.   Gen. 

Tell me, are those tears  
As full of true hearted penitence,  
As mine of sorrow, to behold what state  
What desperate state thouart fall'n in.   Mrs. 
Sir they are.  Gen. 

Rise, and as I do, so heaven pardon me;  
We all offend, but from such falling off,  
Defend us. Well, I do remember wife,  
When I first took thee, 'twas for good and bad;  
O change thy bad to good, that I may keep thee,  
As then we past our faiths, till Death us sever.  
I will not aggravate thy grief too much,  
By Needles iteration: Robin hereafter  
Forget thou hast a tongue, if the least Syllable  
Of what hath passed be rumoured, you lose me;  
But if I find you faithful, you gain me ever.   Rob. 

A match sir, you shall find me as mute as if I had the  
Bridle still in my mouth.   Gen. 

O woman thou hadst need to weep thyself  
Into a fountain, such a penitent spring  
As may have power to quench invisible flames  
In which my eyes shall aid; too little all,  
If not too little, all's forgiven, forgot;  
Only thus much remember, thou hadst extermined  
thyself out of the blessed society  
Of Saints and Angels, but on thy repentance  
I take thee to my Bosom, once again,  
My wife, sister, and daughter: saddle my Gelding,  
Some business that may hold me for two days  
Calls me aside.   Exeunt. Rob. 
I shall Sir, well now my Mistress hath promised to give over her Witchery, I hope though I still continue her man, yet she will make me no more her journeyman; to prevent which the first thing I do shall be to burn the Bridle, and then away with the Witch.  Exit. Enter Arthur and Doughty. Arth 
Sir you have done a right noble courtesy, which deserves a memory, as long as the name of friendship can bear mention.  Dough. 
What I have done, I ha'done, if it be well, 'tis well, I do not like the bouncing of good Offices, if the little care I have taken shall do these poor people good, I have my end in't, and so my reward.  Enter Bantam. Bant. 
Now Gentlemen, you seem very serious.  Arth. 
'Tis true we are so, but you are welcome to the knowledge of our affairs.  Bant. 
How does thine Uncle and Aunt, Gregory and his sister, the Families of Seelyes agree yet, can you tell?  Arth. 
That is the business, the Silly household is divided now.  Bant. 
How so I pray?  Arth. 

You know, and cannot but with pity know  
Their miserable condition, how  
The good old couple were abused, and how  
The young abused themselves; if we may say  
That any of 'em are their selves at all  
Which sure we cannot, nor approve them fit  
To be their own disposers, that would give  
The governance of such a house and living  
Into their Vassals hands, to thrust them out on't  
Without or Law or order, this considered  
This Gentleman and myself have taken home  
By fair entreaty, the old folks to his house,  
The young to mine, until some wholesome order  
By the judicious of the Commonwealth,  
Shall for their persons and estate be taken.   Bant. 

But what becomes of Lawrénce and his Parnell?  
The lusty couple, what do they now?   Dough. 
Alas poor folks, they are as far to seek of how they do, or what they do, or what they should do, as any of the rest, they are all grown Idiots, and till some of these damnable jades, with their devilish devices be found out, tod scharme them, no remedy can be found, I mean to lay the Country for their Hagships, and if I can anticipate the purpose, of their grand Mr. Devil to confound'em before their lease be out, be sure I'll do 't.  A shout within. Cry. 
A Skimington, a Skimmington, a Skimington.  Dough. 
What's the matter now, is Hell broke loose?  Enter Mr Shakstone. Arth. 
Tom Shakstone, how now, canst tell the news?  Sha. 
The news, ye hear it up i'th' air, do you not?  Within. 
A Skimington, a Skimington, a Skimington.  Sha. 
Hark ye, do you not hear it? there's a Skimington, towards gentlemen.  Dou. 
Ware Wedlock hoe.  Bant. 
At whose suit I prithee is Don Skimington come to town.  Sha. 
I'll tell you gentlemen, since you have taken home old Silly and his wife to your house, and you their son and daughter to yours, the housekeepers Lawrence, and his late bride Parnell are fallen out by themselves.  Arth. 
How prithee?  Sha. 
The quarrel began they say upon the wedding night, and in the bride bed.  Bant. 
For want of bedstaves?  Sha. 
No but a better implement it seems the bridegroom was unprovided of, a homely tale to tell.  Dou. 
Now out upon her she has a greedy worm in her, I have heard the fellow complained on, for an over mickle man among the maids.  Arth. 
Is his haste to go to bed at afternoon come to this now?  Dough. 
Witchery, witchery, more witchery still flat and plain witchery. Now do I think upon the codpiece point the young jade gave him at the wedding: she is a witch, and that was a charm, if there be any in the World.  Arth. 
A ligatory point.  Bant. 
Alas poor Lawrence.  Sha. 
He's coming to make his moan to you about it, and she too, since you have taken their masters & mistresses to your care, you must do them right too.  Dough. 
Marry but I'll not undertake her at these years, if lusty Lawrence cannot do't.  Bant. 
But has she beaten him?  Sha. 
Grievously broke his head in I know not how many places: of which the hoydens have taken notice, and will have a Skimmington on horseback presently. Look ye, here comes both plaintiff and defendant.  Enter Lawrence and Parnell. Dough 
How now Lawrence, what has thy wedlock brought thee already to thy nightcap?  Lawr. 
Yie gadwat sir, I ware wadded but awe to seun.  Par. 
Han ye reeson to complain or ay trow ye gaffer Downought? Wa warth the day that ever I wadded a Downought.  Ar. Ban. Sha. 
Nay hold Parnel hold.  Dough. 
We have heard enough of your valour already, wec know you have beaten him, let that suffice.  Parn. 
Ware ever poor maiden betrayed as ay ware unto a swag-bellied Carl that cannot awe waw that cannot.  Dou. 
What says she?  Dou. 
I know not, she caterwauls I think. Parnel be patient good Parnell, and a little modest too, 'tis not amiss, we know not the relish of every ear that hears us, let's talk within ourselves. What's the defect? What's the impediment? Lawrence has had a lusty name among the Bachelors.  Par. 
What he wore when he ware a Bachelor, I know better than the best maid i'th' tawn. I wad I had not.  Ar. Ba. Sha. 
Peace Parnell.  Par. 
'Twere that, that cozened me, he has not now as he had then?  Ar. Ba. Sha. 
Peace good Parnell.  Parn. 
For then he could, but now he cannot, he cannot.  Ar. Ba. Sha 
Fie Parnel fie.  Par. 
I say again and again, he cannot, he cannot.  Ar. Ba Sha. 
Alas poor Parnel.  Par. 
I am not a bit the better for him sin weigh ware wad. Cries  Dou. 
Here's good stuff for a jury of women to pass upon.  Arth. 

But Parnel, why have you beaten him so grievously?  
What would you have him do in this case?   Dou. 
He's out of a doing case it seems.  Par. 
Marry sir, and beat him will I into his grave, or back to the Priest, and be unwadded agone, for I won't be band to lig with him and live with him the laife of an honest woman for awe the layves good i' Loncoshire.  Dou. 
An honest woman: that's a good mind Parnel What say you to this Lawrence?  Law. 
Keep her of o'me, and I shan teln yeou, and she be by I am nobody: But keep her off and search me, let me be searched as never witch was searched, and find any thing mor or lass upon me than a sufficient mon should have, and let me be honked by't.  Art. 
Do you hear this Parnell?  Par. 
Ah leear, leear, mi tack the leear, troist ye and hung ye.  Dou. 

Alas it is too plain, the poor fellow is bewitched.  
Here's a plain Maleficium versus hanc now.   Ar. 
And so is she bewitched too into this immodesty.  Ban. 
She would never talk so else  Law. 
I prayn you gi' me the lere of'at Latin sir.  Dough. 
The meaning is, you must get half a dozen bastards Within this twelvemonth, and that will mend your next marriage.  Law. 
And I thought it would my Parnel, love me I'd be sure on't, and gang about it now right.  Sha. 
Y'are soon provided it seems for such a journey.  Dou 
Best tarry till thy head be whole Lawrence.  Pa. 

Nay, nay, ay's white casten away ent I be unwadded again▪  
And then ine undertake to find 3 better husbands in a bean cod.   Sha. 
Heark gentlemen, the show is coming.  Ar. 
What shall we stay & see't.  Ban. 
O by all means Gent.  Dou. 
'Tis best to have these away first.  Par. 
Nay marry shan eou not sir, I hear ye well enough, & I con the meaning o'the show well enough, & I stay not the show & see not the show, & ma'one i'the show, let me be honked up for a show I'll ware them to mell or ma with a woman that melts or maes with a testril a longie, a dow little lozel that cannot, & if I skim not their skimingtons cockskeam for't, ma that warplin boggle me a week lonker, & that's a curse eno' for any wife I trow. from the board, and yet for aught I can see I am never a whit the nearer What not one kiss at parting Mal?  Mrs. 

Well cousin this is all you have to do:  
Retire the Gallants to some private room,  
Where call for wine, and junkets what you please,  
Then thou shalt need to do no other thing  
Than what this note directs thee, observe that  
An trouble me no farther.   Whet. 
Very good, I like this beginning well: for where they slighted me before, they shall find me a man of note.  Exit. Mal. 
Of this the meaning  Mrs. 

Marry Lass  
To bring a new conceit to pass.  
Thy Spirit must borrow more,  
To fill the number three or four;  
Whom we will use to no great harm,  
Only assist me with thy charm.  
This night we'll celebrate to sport:  
'Tis all for mirth, we mean no hurt.   Mal. 

My Spirit and myself command;  
Mamillion, & the rest at hand, shall all assist.   Mrs. 

Withdraw then, quick,  
Now gallants, there's for you a trick.   Exeunt Enter Whetstone, Arthur, Shakstone, Bantam. Whet. 
here's a more private room gentlemen, free from the noise of the Hall. Here we may talk, and throw the chamber out of the casements. Some wine and a short banquet.  Enter with a boquet, Wine, and two Tapers. Whet. 
So now leave us.  Arth. 

we are much bound to you master Whetstone.  
For this great entertainment: I see you command  
The house in the absence of your uncle.   Whet. 
Yes, I thank my Aunt; for though I be but a daily guest yet I can be welcome to her at midnight.  Shak. 
How shall we pass the time?  Bant. 
In some discourse.  Whet. 
But no such discourse as we had last, beseech you.  Bant. 

Now master Whetstone you reflect on me.  
'Tis true, at our last meeting some few words  
Then past my lips, which I could wish forgot:  
I think I called you Bastard.   Whet. 
I think so too; but what's that amongst friends, for I would fain know which amongst you all knows his own father.  Bant. 
You are merry with your friends, good master By-Blow, and we are guests here in your uncle's house, and therefore privileged.  Enter Mistress Generous, Mal and Spirits. Whet. 
I presume you had no more privilege in your getting than I. But tell me gentlemen, is there any man here amongst you, that hath a mind to see his father?  Bant. 
Why, who shall show him?  Whet. 
That's all one; if any man here desire it, let him but speak the word, and 'tis sufficient.  Bant. 
Why, I would see my father.  Mistress Gener. 
Strike.  Music. Enter a Pedant dancing to the music; the strain done, he points at Bantam, & looks full in his face. Whet. 
Do you know him that looks so full in your face;  Bant. 

Yes well, a pedant in my father's house.  
Who being young, taught me my A, B, C.   Whet. 
In his house, that goes for your father you would say: For know one morning, when your mother's husband rid early to have a Nisi prius tried at Lancaster 'Sizes, he crept into his warm place, lay close by her side, and then were you got. Then come, your heels and tail together, and kneel unto your own dear father.  All. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Bant. 
I am abused.  Whet. 
Why laugh you Gentlemen? It may be more men's cases than his or mine. Bant. To be thus jeered.  Arth. 

Come, take it as a jest  
For presume 'twas meant no otherwise.   Whet. 
Would either of you two now see his father in earnest  Shak 
Yes, canst thou show me mine?  Mrs. Gen. 
Strike.  Enter a nimble tailor dancing, using the same posture to Shakstone. Whet 
He looks on you speak, do you know him?  Shak. 
Yes, he was my mother's tailor, I remember him ever since I was a child.  Whet. 
Who when he came to take measure of her upper parts had more mind to the lower, whilst the good man was in the fields hunting, he was at home whoring.  

Then, since no better comfort can be had,  
Come down, come down, ask blessing of your dad.   All 
Ha, ha, ha  Bant. 
This cannot be endured.  Arth. 

It is plain Witchcraft.  
Nay since we all are bid unto one feast,  
let's fare alike, come show me mine too.   Mrs Gener. 
Strike.  Enter Robin with a switch and a Currycombe, he points at Arthur. Whet 
He points at you.  Arth. 
What then?  Whet. 
You know him.  Arth. 
Yes, Robin the groom belonging to this house.  Whet. 
And never served your father?  Arth. 
In's youth I think he did.  Whet. 
Who when your supposed father had business at the Lord president's Court in York, stood for his Attorney at home, & so it seems you were got by deputy: what all a mort? if you will have but a little patience, stay & you shall see mine too:  

And know I show you him the rather,  
To find who hath the best man to his Father.   Mrs. 
Strike—  music. Enter a Gallant, as before to him. Whet. 
Now Gentlemen make me your precedent, learn your duties, and do as I do— A blessing Dad.  Whet. 

Come, come, let's home, we'll find some other time,  
When to dispute of these things—   Whet. 
: Nay Gent. no parting in spleen, since we have begun in mirth, let's not end in melancholy; you see there are more By-blows than bear the name; It is grown a great kindred in the Kingdom. Come, come, all friends; Let's into the Cellar and conclude our Revels in a lusty health.  Shak. 
I fain would strike, but cannot.  Bant. 
Some strange fate holds me.  Arth. 

Here then all anger end,  
Let none be mad at what they cannot mend.   Exeunt. Mal. 
Now say what's next?  Mrs. 

I'th' Mill there lies  
A Soldier yet with unscratched eyes,  
Summon the Sisterhood together  
For we with all our Spirits will thither;  
And such a caterwauling keepe,  
That he in vain shall think to sleep.  
Call Meg, and Doll, Tib, Nab, and jug,  
Let none appear without her Pug.  
We'll try our utmost Art and skill.  
To fright the stout Knave in the Mill.   Exeunt.  

ACTVS, V. SCENA, I.  Enter Doughty, Miller, Boy in a Cap. Doughty.. 
THou art a brave Boy, the honour of thy Country; thy Statue shall be set up in brass upon the Market Cross in Lancaster, I bless the time that I answered at the Font for thee: 'Zookes did I ever think that a Godson of mine should have fought hand to fist with the Devil!  Mil. 
He was ever an unhappy Boy Sir, and like enough to grow acquainted with him; and friends may fall out sometimes.  Dought. 
Thou art a dogged Sire, and doest not know the virtue of my Godson, my son now; he shall be thy son no longer: he and I will worry all the Witches in Lancashire.  Mil. 
You were best take heed though.  Dough. 
I care not, though we leave not above three untainted women in the Parish, we'll do it.  Mil. 
Do what you please Sir, there's the Boy stout enough to justify any thing he has said. Now 'tis out, he should be my Son still by that: Though he was at Death's door before he would reveal any thing, the damnable jades had so threatened him, and as soon as ever he had told he mended.  Dought. 
'Tis well he did so, we will so swing them in twopenny halter's Boy.  Mil. 
For my part I have no reason to hinder any thing that may root them all out; I have tasted enough of their mischief, witness my usage i' th' Mill, which could be nothing but their Roguery. One night in my sleep they set me a stride stark naked atop of my Mill, a bitter cold night too; 'twas day light before I woke, and I durst never speak of it to this hour, because I thought it impossible to be believed.  Dought. 
Villainous Hags  Mil. 
And all last Summer, my Wife could not make a bit of butter.  Dough. 
It would not come, would it?  Mill. 
No Sir, we could not make it come, though she and I both together, churned almost our hearts out, and nothing would come, but all ran into thin waterish gear: the Pigs would not drink it.  Dought. 
Is't possible?  Mil. 
None but one, and he ran out of his wits upon't, till we bound his head, and laid him asleep, but he has had a wry mouth ever since.  Dought. 
That the Devil should put in their hearts to delight in such Villainies! I have sought about these two days, and heard of a hundred such mischievous tricks, though none mortal, but could not find whom to mistrust for a Witch till now this boy, this happy boy informs me.  
And they should ne'er have been sought for me if their affrightments and devilish devices, had not brought my Boy into such a sickness; Whereupon indeed I thought good to acquaint your worship, and bring the Boy unto you being his Godfather, and as you now stick not to say his Father.  Dought. 
After you I thank yon Gossip. But my Boy thou hast satisfied me in their names, and thy knowledge of the women, their turning into shapes, their dog-tricks, and their horse tricks, and their great Feast in the barn (a pox take them with my sirloin, I say still.) But a little more of thy combat with the Devil, I prithee; he came to thee like a Boy thou sayest, about thine own bigness?  Boy. 
Yes Sir, and he asked me where I dwelled, and what my name was.  Dough. 
Ah Rogue!  Boy. 
But it was in a quarrelsome way; Whereupon I was as stout, and asked him who made him an examiner?  Dough. 
Ah good Boy.  Mil. 
In that he was my Son.  Boy. 

He told me he would know or beat it out of me,  
And I told him he should not, and bid him do his worst;  
And to't we went.   Dough. 
In that he was my son again, ha boy; I see him at it now.  Boy. 
We fought a quarter of an hour, till his sharp nails made my ears bleed.  Dough. 
O the grand Devil pare 'em.  Boy. 
I wondered to find him so strong in my hands, seeming but of mine own age and bigness, till I looking down, perceived he had clubbed cloven feet like Ox feet; but his face was as young as mine.  Dought. 
A pox, but by his feet, he may be the Club-footed Horse-coursers father, for all his young looks.  Boy. 
But I was afraid of his feet, and ran from him towards a light that I saw, and when I came to it, it was one of the Witches in white upon a Bridge, that scared me back again, and then met me the Boy again, and he struck me and laid me for dead.  Mil. 
Till I wondering at his stay, went out and found him in the Trance; since which time, he has been haunted and frighted with Goblins, 40. times, and never durst tell any thing (as I said) because the Hags had so threatened him till in his sickness he revealed it to his mother.  Dough. 
And she told nobody but folks on't. Well Gossip Gretty, as thou art a Miller, and a close thief, now let us keep it as close as we may till we take 'em, and see them handsomely hanged o' the way: Ha my little Cuss-devil, thou art a made man. Come, away with me.  Exeunt. Enter Soldier. Sould. 

These two nights I have slept well and heard no noise  
Of Cats, or Rats; most sure the fellow dreamt,  
And scratched himself in 's sleep. I have travelled Deserts,  
Beheld Wolves, Bears, and lions: Indeed what not?  
Of horrid shape; And shall I be afraid  
Of Cats in mine own Country? I can never  
Grow so Mouse-hearted. It is now a Calm  
And no wind stirring, I can bear no sail;  
Than best lie down to sleep. Nay rest by me  
Good Morglay, my comrade and Bedfellow  
That never failed me yet; I know thou didst not.  
If I be waked, see thou be stirring too;  
Then come a Gib as big as Ascapart  
we'll make him play at Leapfrog. A brave soldier's lodging,  
The floor my Bed, a Millstone for my Pillow,  
The Sails for Curtains. So good night.   Lies down. Enter Mrs. Generous, Mall, all the Witches and their Spirits (at several doors.) Mrs. 
Is Nab come?  Mal. 
Yes.  Mrs. 
Where's Jug?  Mal. 
On horseback yet,  
Now lighting from her Broomstaff.  Mrs. 
But where's Peg?  Mal. 
Entered the Mill already.  Mrs. 
Is he fast?  Mal. 
As senseless as a Dormouse.  Mrs. 
Then to work, to work my pretty Lapland's  
Pinch, here, scratch,  
Do that within, without we'll keep the watch.  The Witches retired: the Spirits come about him with a dreadful noise: he starts. Sold. 

Am I in Hell, then have amongst you devils;  
This side, and that side, what behind, before?  
I'll keep my face unscratched despite you all:  
What, do you pinch in private, claws I feel  
But can see nothing, nothing pinch me thus?  
Have at you then, I and have at you still;  
And still have at you.  Beates them off, follows them in, and Enters again. 
One of them I have paid  
In leaping out o'th' hole a foot or ear  
Or something I have light on. What all gone?  
All quiet? not a Cat that's heard to mew?  
Nay then I'll try to take another nap,  
Though I sleep with mine eyes open.   Exit. Enter Mr. Generous, and Robin. Gen. 

Robin, the last night that I lodged at home  
My Wife (if thou remember'st) lay abroad,  
But no words of that.   Rob. 
You have taught me silence.  Gen. 

I rose thus early much before my hour,  
To take her in her bed; 'Tis yet not five:  
The Sun scarce up. Those horses take and lead'em  
Into the Stable, see them rubbed and dressed,  
We have rid hard. Now in the interim I  
Will step and see how my new Miller fares,  
Or whether he slept better in his charge,  
Than those which did precede him.   Rob. 
Sir I shall.  Gen. 
But one thing more—  Whispers. Enter Arthur. Arth. 

Now from the last night's witchcraft we are freed,  
And I that had not power to clear myself  
From base aspersion, am at liberty  
For vowed revenge: I cannot be at peace  
(The night-spell being took of) till I have met  
With noble Mr. Generous: in whose search  
The best part of this morning I have spent,  
His wife now I suspect.   Rob. 
By your leave Sir.  Arth. 

O y'are well met, pray tell me how long is't  
Since you were first my Father?   Rob 
Be patient I beseech you, what do you mean Sir?  Arth. 

But that I honour  
Thy Master, to whose goodness I am bound,  
And still must remain thankful, I should prove  
Worse than a Murderer, a mere Parricide  
By killing thee my Father.   Rob. 

I your Father? he was a man I always loved  
And honoured. He bred me.   Arth. 
And you begot me? oh you used me finely last night?  Gen. 
Pray what's the matter Sir?  Arth. 

My worthy friend, but that I honour you  
As one to whom I am so much obliged,  
This Villain could not stir a foot from hence  
Till perished by my sword.   Gener. 

How hath he wronged you?  
Be of a milder temper I entreat,  
Relate what and when done?   Arth. 

You may command me,  
If ask me what wrongs, know this Groom pretends  
He hath strumpeted my mother, if when, blazed  
Last night at midnight. If you ask me further  
Where, in your own house; when he pointed to me  
As had I been his Bastard.   Rob. 
I do this? I am a horse again if I got you, Master, why Master.  Gen. 

I know you Mr. Arthur, for a Gentleman  
Of fair endowments, a most solid brain,  
And settled understanding. Why this fellow  
These two days was scarce sundered from my side,  
And for the last night I am most assured  
He slept within my Chamber, 12. miles off,  
We have ne'er parted since.   Arth, 

You tell me wonders.  
Since all your words to me are Oracles,  
And such as I most constantly believe.  
But Sir, shall I be bold and plain withal,  
I am suspicious all's not well at home;  
I dare proceed no farther without leave,  
Yet there is something lodged within my breast  
Which I am loath to utter.   Gen. 

Keep it there,  
I pray do a season (O my fears)   Whet. 

In my Uncle's absence who but I should comfort my Aunt,  
Am I not of the Blood, am not I next of Kin?  
Why Aunt?   Mrs. Gen 
Good Nephew leave me.  Whet. 
The Devil shall leave you ere I'll forsake you, Aunt, you know, Sic is So, and being so sick do you think I'll leave you, what know I but this Bed may prove your deathbed, and and then I hope you will remember me, that is, remember me in your Will.  (Knock within.) 
Who's that knocks with such authority. Ten to one my uncle's come to town.  Mrs. Gen. 
If it be so, excuse my weakness to him, say I can speak with none.  Mal. 
I will, and scape him if I can; by this accident all must come out, and here's no stay for me  (Knock again) 
Again, stay you here with your Aunt, and I'll go let in your Uncle.  Whet. 
Do good Mal, and how, and how sweet Aunt?  Enter Mr. Gener. Mal, Arthur, Soldier, and Robin. Gen. 

Y'are well met here, I am told you oft frequent  
This house as my wife's choice companion,  
Yet have I seldom seen you.   Mal. 

Pray, by your leave Sir,  
Your wife is taken with a sudden qualm  
She hath sent me for a Doctor.   Gen. 

But that labour I'll save you, Soldier take her to your charge.  
And now where's this sick woman.   Whet. 
O Uncle you come in good time, my Aunt is so suddenly taken as if she were ready to give up the spirit.  Gen. 

'Tis almost time she did, speak how is't wife  
My Nephew tells me you were took last night  
With a shrewd sickness, which this Maid confirms.   Mrs. 

Yes sir, but now desire no company.  
Noise troubles me, and I would gladly sleep.   Gener. 

In company there's comfort, prithee wife  
Lend me thy hand, and let me feel thy pulse,  
Perhaps some Fever, by their beating I  
May guess at thy disease.   Mrs. Gen. 
My hand, 'tis there.  Gen. 

A dangerous sickness, and I fear t death,  
'Tis odds you will not scape it. Take that back  
And let me prove the tother, if perhaps  
I there can find more comfort.   Mrs. Gen. 
I pray excuse me.  Gener. 

I must not be denied,  
Sick folks are peevish, and must be o'erruled, and so shall you.   Mrs. Gen. 
Alas I have not strength to lift it up.  Gener. 

If not thy hand Wife, show me but thy wrist,  
And see how this will match it, here's a Testate  
That cannot be outfaced.   Mrs. Gener. 
I am undone.  Whet. 
Hath my Aunt been playing at handy dandy, nay then if the game go this way I fear she'll have the worst hand on't.  Arth. 

'Tis now apparent  
How all the last night's business came about,  
In this my late suspicion, is confirmed.   Gen. 

My heart hath bled more for thy cursed relapse  
Than drops hath issued from thy wounded arm.  
But wherefore should I preach to one past hope?  
Or where the devil himself claims right in all,  
Seek the least part or interest? Leave your Bed,  
Up, make you ready; I must deliver you  
Into the hand of justice. O dear friend  
It is in vain to guess at this my grief  
'Tis so inundant. Soldier take away that young  
But old in mischief.  
And being of these Apostates rid so well,  
I'll see my house no more be made a Hell.  
Away with them.   Exeunt. Enter Bantam, and Shakston. Ban. 
I'll out o'the Country, and as soon live in Lapland as Lancashire hereafter.  Shak. 
What for a false illusive apparition? I hope the devil is not able to persuade thee thou art a Bastard.  Bant 
No, but I am afflicted to think that the devil should have power to put such a trick upon us, to countenance a Rascal, that is one.  Shak 
I hope Arthur has taken a course with his Uncle about him by this time, who would have thought such a fool as he could have been a Witch?  Bant. 
Why do you think there's any wise folks of the quality; Can any but fools be drawn into a Covenant with the greatest enemy of mankind? yet I cannot think that Whetstone is the Witch? The young Quean that was at the Wedding was i'th' house ye know.  Enter Lawrence and Parnell, in their first Habits. Shak. 
See Lawrence and Parnell civilly accorded again it seems, and accoutred as they were wont to be when they had their wits.  Lawr. 
Blessed be the hour I say may honey, may sweet Pall, that Ay's becomed thaine agone, and thou's becomed main agone, and may this ea kiss ma us tway become both eane for ever and a day.  Parn. 
Yie marry Lall, and thus shadden it be, there is nought gotten by fawing out, we must favu in or we get nought.  Bant. 
The world's well mended here; we cannot but rejoice to see this, Lawrence.  Lawr. 
And you been welcome to it Gentlemen.  Parn. 
And we been glad we han it for you.  Shak. 
And I protest I am glad to see it.  Parn. 
And thus shan ye see't till our deeing hour.  
Ween eon leove now for a laife time, the Dewle shouldn't ha' the poor to put us to pieces agone.  Bant. 
Why now all's right and straight and as it should be.  Lawr. 
Yie marry that is it, the good hour be blessed for it, that put the wit into may head, to have a mistrust of that pestilent Codpiece-point, that the witched worch Mal Spencer go me, ah woe worth her, that were it that made awe so nought.  Bant. & Shak. 
Is't possible?  Parn. 
Yie marry it were an Enchantment, and about an hour since it come until our hearts to do, what ye think, and we did it.  Bant. 
What Parnell?  Parn. 
Marry we take the point, and we casten the point into the fire, and the point spittered and spattered in the fire, like an it were (love bless us) a laive thing in the fair; and it hopped and skippet, and wriggled, and frisket in the fair, and crept about laike a worm in the fair, that it were work enough for us both with all the Chimney tools to keep it into the fair, and it stinket in the fair, worsen than any brimstone in the fair.  Bant. 
This is wonderful as all the rest.  Lawr. 
It would ha' scared any that hadden their wits till a seen't, and we werne mad eoht it were deone.  Parn. 
And this were not above an hour since, and you cannot devise how we han loved t'one tother by now, ye would e'en bliss your self to see't.  Lawr. 
Yie an han pit on our working gear, to swink and serve our Master and Mistress like until painful servants agone, as we shudden.  Bant. 
'Tis wondrous well.  Shak. 
And are they well again?  Parn. 
Yie and weel's laike heane bliss them, they are awas we'll becomed as none ill had ever been aneast'hem; Lo ye, lo ye, as they come.  Enter Seely, joane, Gregory and Win. Greg. 

Sir, if a contrite heart struck through with sense  
Of its sharp errors, bleeding with remorse  
The black polluted stain it had conceived  
Of foul unnatural disobedience  
May yet by your fair mercy find Remission;  
You shall upraise a Son out o'the gulf  
Of horror and despair, unto a bliss  
That shall for ever crown your goodness, and  
Instructive in my after life to serve you,  
In all the duties that be fit a son.   Seel. 

Enough, enough, good boy, 'tis most apparent  
We all have had our errors, and as plainly  
It now appears, our judgements, yea our reason  
Was poisoned by some violent infection,  
Quite contrary to Nature.   Bant. 
This sounds well.  Seely. 

I fear it was by Witchcraft: for I now  
(Blessed be the power that wrought the happy means  
Of my delivery) remember that  
Some 3. months since I crossed a way ward woman  
(One that I now suspect) for bearing with  
A most unseemly disobedience,  
In an untoward ill-bred son of hers,  
When with an ill look and an hollow voice  
She muttered out these words. Perhaps erelong  
thyself shalt be obedient to thy son.  
She has played her prank it seems.   Greg. 
Sir I have heard, that Witches apprehended under hands of lawful authority, do lose their power; And all their spells are instantly dissolved.  Seel. 

If it be so, then at this happy hour,  
The Witch is ta'en that over us had power.   Joane. 
Enough Child, thou art mine and all is well.  Win. 

Long may you live the wellspring of my bliss,  
And may my duty and my fruitful Prayers,  
Draw a perpetual stream of blessings from you.   Seely. 

Gentlemen welcome to my best friends house,  
You know the unhappy cause that drew me hither.   Bant. 
And cannot but rejoice to see the remedy so near at hand.  Enter Doughty, Miller, and boy. Dought. 
Come Gossip, come Boy— Gentlemen you are come to the bravest discovery— Mr. Silly and the rest, how is't with you? you look reasonable well methinks.  Seely. 
Sir, we do find that we have reason enough to thank you for your Neighbourly and pious care of us.  Doughty. 
Is all so well with you already? go to, will you know a reason for't Gentlemen: I have catched a whole Kennel of Witches. It seems their Witch is one of 'em, and so they are discharmed, they are all in Officers hands, and they will touch here with two or three of them for a little private parley, before they go to the justices. Master Generous is coming hither too, with a supply that you dream not of, and your Nephew Arthur.  Bant. 
You are beholden Sir to Master Generous in behalf of your Nephew for saving his land from forfeiture in time of your distraction.  Seely. 
I will acknowledge it most thankfully.  Shak. 
See he comes.  Enter Mr. Generous, Mrs. Generous, Arthur, Wherstone, Mal, Soldier, and Robin. Seel. 

O Mr. Generous, the noble favour you have showed  
My Nephew for ever binds me to you.   Gener. 

I pitied then your misery, and now  
Have nothing left but to bewail mine own  
In this unhappy woman.   Seel. 
Good Mistress Generous—  Arth. 
Make a full stop there Sir, sides, sides, make sides, You know her not as I do, stand aloof there Mistress with your darling Witch, your Nephew too if you please, because though he be no witch, he is a well-willer to the infernal science.  Gener. 

I utterly discard him in her blood  
And all the good that I intended him  
I will confer upon this virtuous Gentleman.   Whet. 
Well Sir, though you be no Uncle, yet mine Aunt's mine Aunt, and shall be to her dying day.  Doug. 
And that will be about a day after next Sizes I take it,  Enter Witches, Constable, and Officers. 
O here comes more o'your Naunts, Naunt Dickenson & Naunt Hargrave, ods fish and your Granny Johnson too; we want but a good fire to entertain 'em.  Arth. 
See how they lay their heads together?  Witches charm together. Gill. 
No succour.  Maud. 
No relief.  Peg. 
No comfort!  All. 
Mawsy, my Mawsy, gentle Mawsy come,  Maud. 
Come my sweet Puckling.  Peg. 
My Mamilion.  Arth. 
What do they say?  Bant. 
They call their Spirits I think.  Dought. 
Now a shame take you for a farthel of fools, have you known so many of the devil's tricks, and can be ignorant of that common feat of the old juggler; that is, to leave you all to the Law, when you are once seized on by the talons of Authority? I'll undertake this little Demigorgon Constable with these Commonwealth Characters upon his staff here, is able inspite of all your bugs-words, to stave off the grand Devil for doing any of you good till you come to his Kingdom to him, and there take what you can find.  Arth. 
But Gentlemen, shall we try if we can by examination get from them something that may abbreviate the cause unto the wiser in Commission for the peace before we carry them before 'em.  Gen. & Seel. 
Let it be so.  Dought. 
Well say, stand out Boy, stand out Miller, stand out Robin, stand out Soldier, and lay your accusation upon 'em.  Bant. 
Speak Boy do you know these Creatures, women I dare not call 'em?  Boy. 
Yes Sir, and saw them all in the barn together, and many more at their Feast and Witchery.  Rob. 
And so did I, by a Devilish token, I was rid thither, though I rid home again as fast without switch or spur.  Mill. 
I was ill handled by them in the Mill.  Sold. 
And I sliced off a cat's foot there, that is since a hand, whoever wants it.  Seel. 
How I and all my family have suffered you all know.  Lawr. 
And how I were bewitched my Pall. here knows.  Parn. 
Yie Lall, and the Witch I knaw, an I prayen ye go me but leave to scrat her well-favouredly.  Bant. 
Hold Parnell.  Parn. 
ye can blame no honest woman, I trow, to scrat for the thing she loves.  Mal. 
Ha, ha, ha.  Dough. 
Do you laugh Gentlewoman? what say you to all these matters?  Mrs. Gen. 

I will say nothing, but what you know you know,  
And as the law shall find me let it take me.   Gil. 
And so say I.  Mawd. 
And I.  Mal. 
And I, other confession you get none from us.  Arth. 
What say you Granny?  Peg. 
Mamilion, ho Mamilion, Mamilion.  Arth. 
Who's that you call?  Peg. 
My friend, my Sweetheart, my Mamilion.  Witches. 
You are not mad?  Dought. 
Ah ha, that's her Devil, her Incubus I warrant; take her off from the rest they'll hurt her. Come hither poor old woman. I'll dandle a Witch a little, thou wilt speak, and tell the truth, and shalt have favour doubt not. Say art not thou a Witch?  They storm. Peg. 
'Tis folly to dissemble eye sir, I am one.  Dought. 

And that Mamilion which thou call'st upon  
Is thy familiar Devil is't not? Nay prithee speak.   Peg. 
Yes Sir.  Dough. 
That's a good woman, how long hast had's acquaintance, ha?  Peg. 
A matter of six years' Sir.  Dought. 
A pretty matter. What was he like a man?  Peg. 
Yes when I pleased.  Dought. 
And then he lay with thee, did he not sometimes?  Peg. 
'tis folly to dissemble; twice a Week he never failed me.  Dough. 
Humh— and how? and how a little? was he a good Bedfellow?  Peg. 
'tis folly to speak worse of him than he is.  Dough. 
I trust me is't. Give the Devil his due.  Peg. 
He pleased me well Sir, like a proper man.  Dought. 
There was sweet coupling.  Peg. 
Only his flesh felt cold.  Arth. 
He wanted his great fires about him that he has at home.  Dough. 
Peace, and did he wear good clothes?  Peg. 
Gentleman like, but black black points and all.  Dought. 
ay, very like his points were black enough. But come we'll trifle wi'ye no longer. Now shall you all to the justices, and let them take order with you till the Sizes, and then let Law take his course, and Uivat Rex. Mr. Generous I am sorry for your cause of sorrow, we shall not have your company?  Gener. 

No sir, my Prayers for her soul's recovery.  
Shall not be wanting to her, but mine eyes  
Must never see her more.   Rob. 
Mal, adieu sweet Mal, ride your next journey with the company you have there.  Mal. 
Well Rogue I may live to ride in a Coach before I come to the Gallows yet.  Rob. 
And Mrs. the horse that stays for you rides better with a Halter than your gingling bridle.  Exeunt Gen. & Robin. Dought. 
Mr. Seely I rejoice for your Family's atonement.  Seel. 
And I praise heaven for you that were the means to it.  Dough. 
On afore Drovers with your untoward Cattle.  Exeunt severally Bant. 

Why do not you follow Mr. byblow. I thank your  
Aunt for the trick she would have fathered us withal.   Whet. 
Well Sir, mine Aunt's mine Aunt, and for that trick I will not leave her till I see her do a worse.  Bant. 
Y'are a kind Kinsman.  Exeunt. Flourish. 
FINIS.   

Song. II. Act.  

1 Come Mawsy, come Puckling,  
And come my sweet Suckling,  
My pretty Mamillion, my joy,  
Fall each to his Duggy,  
While kindly we buggy,  
As tender as Nurse over Boy.  
Then suck our bloods freely, and with it be jolly,  
While merrily we sing, heigh Trolly-lolly.   

2 We'll dandle and clip ye,  
We'll stroke ye, and leap ye,  
And all that we have is your due;  
The feats you do for us,  
And those which you store us  
Withal, ties us only to you.  
Then suck our bloods freely, and with it be jolly,  
While merrily we sing, heigh Trolly-lolly.    

THE epilogue.  

NOw while the Witches must expect their due  
By lawful justice, we appeal to you  
For favourable censure; what their crime  
May bring upon'em, ripeness yet of time  
Has not revealed. Perhaps great Mercy may  
After just condemnation give them day  
Of longer life. We represent as much  
As they have done, before law's hand did touch  
Upon their guilt; But dare not hold it fit,  
That we for justices and Judges sit.  
And personate their grave wisdoms on the Stage  
Whom we are bound to honour; No, the Age  
Allows it not. Therefore unto the Laws  
We can but bring the Witches and their cause,  
And there we leave'em, as their Devils did,  
Should we go further with'em? Wit forbid;  
What of their story, further shall ensue,  
We must refer to time, ourselves to you.