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GLOBE QUARTOS

THE WITCHES OF LANCASHIRE

RICHARD BROME and THOMAS HEYWOOD

First printed: London, 1634

This edition prepared by Gabriel Egan

GLOBE EDUCATION

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NICK HERN BOOKS

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GLOBE QUARTOS

This edition of The Witches of Lancashire

first published in Great Britain

as a paperback original in 2001

by Nick Hern Books Limited

14 Larden Road, London W3 7ST

in association with

Globe Education

Shakespeare’s Globe, New Globe Walk

London SE1 9DT

International Shakespeare Globe Centre Ltd

Typeset in Aldine-401 by the editor

Printed by LSL Press, Bedford MK41 0TX

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from

the British Library

ISBN 1 85459 664 0

PREFACE

Over 400 plays written between 1567 and 1642 have survived in print. Few are now read and even fewer are performed. In 1995 Globe Education initiated a 30-year project to stage readings with professional casts of all the surviving texts so that audiences may once again hear plays by Barnes, Haughton, Shirley, Wilkins et al.

In 1997 Mark Rylance, Artistic Director of Shakespeare’s Globe, included full productions of Beaumont and Fletcher’s The Maid’s Tragedy and Middleton’s A Chaste Maid in Cheapside as part of the Globe Theatre’s opening season. Over 30,000 people came to hear and see the two plays.

The popularity of the readings and the productions prompted Globe Education to approach Nick Hern to publish the texts being revived at the Globe to enable more people to read, study and, ideally, to produce them. Developments in computer typesetting have enabled editions to be published economically and quickly as Globe Quartos.

The first Globe Quartos were edited in 1998 by Nick de Somogyi. In 1999 an Editorial Board, composed of David Scott Kastan, Gordon McMullan and Richard Proudfoot, was established to oversee the series.

Globe Education is indebted to all those who have helped give new life to old plays: production teams, actors, audiences, directors, editors, publishers and readers.

Patrick Spottiswoode

Director, Globe Education

EDITORIAL BOARD’S PREFACE

The aim of the series is to make once more available English plays of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries that have long been out of print in affordable form or have been available to readers only in scholarly editions in academic libraries. The Globe Quartos texts are based on the most reliable surviving forms of these plays (usually the first printed editions). These have been fully edited and modernized so as to make them easily usable by actors and readers today. Editorial correction and emendation are undertaken where required by the state of the original. Extra stage directions added by editors and needed to make the action clear are enclosed in square brackets. Apostrophes in verse speeches indicate elision of syllables and reflect the metrical pattern of the line. Prefatory matter includes notes from the director or co-ordinator of the production or reading of the play at the Globe and a brief factual introduction by the editor. Glossarial notes (keyed to the text by line numbers) explain difficult or obsolete usages and offer brief comment on other points of interest or obscurity. Departures from the wording of the original are recorded in textual notes that identify the source of corrections or editorial emendations. The opening page of the text in the original on which the edition is based is reproduced in reduced facsimile. Extra material relevant to the understanding of the play may occasionally be included in an Appendix.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The editor wishes to thank his postgraduate students on the Globe Education/King’s College London MA ‘Shakespearean Studies: Text and Playhouse’ for their seminar discussions of this play. The early modern performance expertise of the Globe Education practitioners led by James Wallace brought the play to life in a staged reading that illuminated hitherto murky parts of it. Editing those parts afresh after the performance, I was glad to include a number of Wallace’s suggestions. I am grateful to the British Library for permission to reprint the first text page of one of their two copies of the 1634 quarto. The Globe Quartos general editors, past and present, each helped with one or more of the problems I encountered. Most especially, David Scott Kastan and Gordon McMullan comprehensively mixed their labour with mine not only by advising on points of interpretation and editorial procedure, but also by indicating every occasion upon which I had failed to turn this seventeenth-century play script into proper modern English. What they missed, my student Alexandra London-Thompson caught. Having promised to absorb their lessons, I am grateful to be allowed pass off these people’s improvements as my own.

This edition is dedicated to my wife, Joan Fitzpatrick.

Gabriel Egan

A NOTE ON THE STAGED READING

My first impression of this play was of an excuse for spectacle and amusement and little else. The witches are not particularly diabolical, as they are in Macbeth, nor is witchcraft placed in a social context of small-town poverty with its attendant prejudice and ignorance, as in The Witch of Edmonton. It neither frightened nor enlightened. That the real women involved were, at the time of writing, still suffering in jail for these supposed crimes seemed to add little urgency to the drama. Nathaniel Tomkyns’s ‘review’ of an early performance at the Globe in 1634 appeared accurate enough: ‘there be not in it . . . any poetical genius, or art, or language . . . or tenet of witches’, but with its ‘ribaldry’, ‘fopperies’, and songs and dances, it is still a ‘merry and excellent . . . play’.

The preparation for, and the experience of, rehearsal and performance of a staged reading revealed much more. The prologue’s modest claim that a lack of foreign news was the occasion for a dramatization of domestic issues is disingenuous: Heywood was known for his domestic drama and, like his master Ben Jonson, Brome used realistic characters in contemporary local settings. Conscious art, not default, selected the dramatists’ material. In all likelihood the labour was divided thus: Heywood wrote the spectacles of witch mischief and ancient village ritual, and Brome wrote about the inversion of social order in the Seely household, which is similar to the fun he had in The Antipodes. Brome’s characteristic humour arising from character interplay is evident also in the subtly-executed scenes of the three young gallants. Whetstone is no caricature of a boasting fool but rather is fully developed, and the differing reactions to him from other characters and from the audience repay careful exploration. Master Generous too revealed more depth than expected. An audience is apt first to regard him as a pompous bore, but will become increasingly engaged with his struggle to think and act in accordance with God’s law for the preservation of a Christian soul. The repentance of Mistress Generous is genuinely moving and her subsequent betrayal is all the more shocking for the effect she produced by her plausible act of contrition. The play is full of ideas about belief and disbelief, lies and truth, appearance and reality, and honest speaking and flattery. Over-credulity can spring from vice (the foolish Whetstone) or virtue (the good-hearted Generous).

Not witchcraft but witch-hunting is the play’s serious matter. Doughty moves from scepticism to determination (his name suits both conditions) when frustrated in his lust for Moll Spencer, whose quarto name ‘Mal’ I kept for its connotation of maleficence. The play darkens with this witch-finder’s zeal to see all the witches ‘handsomely hanged’, and we should credit the dramatists’ observation of the psychosexual impulses underlying the witch-hunting craze.

Witchcraft shares with dramatic performance a concern for fortuitous timing, and our staged reading gained knife-edge immediacy by the presence, hot-foot from the Globe stage, of the First Witch from the Globe Theatre’s 2001 season production of Macbeth. This provided an appropriate analogue to the link between the two King’s men’s plays which was clearly in the dramatists’ conception of their work. The long theatrical tradition of bad luck associated with uttering the ‘Scottish play’ appears to have begun with The Witches of Lancashire: merely mentioning ‘the Scottish wayward sisters’ (as the quarto spelling has it) gives Winny Seely impaired vision and a ‘hiccup’ of the heart. Since they are all from Lancashire, the characters should logically all have northern accents, and I instructed the actors accordingly. The dramatists, however, chose to give only Lawrence and Parnell the necessary and nearly incomprehensible accents. Those wishing to reconstruct the early performances are referred for this detail to the 1634 quarto’s difficult but amusing representation of dialect.

In performance it becomes clear that this is not simply an anti-witch play, since their victims suffer little physical harm. Millers were notoriously corrupt and here one is tied naked to his sails (on a very cold night) and another is pinched and scratched; such indignities scarcely exceed the likely fantasies of their customers. For these misdemeanours the witches suffer a variety of excesses from beating and amputation to arrest and threatened execution. In performance the final scene chilled those on stage and in the audience as the historical reality became immediate. Brome and Heywood explicitly name ‘mercy’ in their epilogue and throughout they present witchcraft unseriously while attending to the excessive response of state power. Perhaps this made a difference: unlike their unfortunate predecessors of 1612, there is no evidence that these Pendle witches were executed.

James Wallace

THE WITCHES OF LANCASHIRE

Cast of the staged reading co-ordinated by James Wallace at the Globe Education Centre on 12 August 2001

Prologue	Liza Hayden
Arthur, a young gentleman	Nicholas Rowe
Tom Shakestone, a young gentleman	Tom Cornford
Bantam, a young gentleman	Dan Hawksford
Whetstone, nephew to Generous	Richard Lumsden
Generous, a wealthy squire	David Delve
Mistress Generous, Generous’s wife and a witch	Beverley Klein
Robert, Generous’s groom	Tony Bell
Mal Spencer, Robert’s sweetheart and a witch	Lou Gish
Meg Johnson, a witch	Cherry Morris
Mawd Hargreave, a witch	Olivia MacDonald
Gillian Dickinson, a witch	Caroline Harris
Doughty	Michael Cronin
Seely, a wealthy squire whose household is bewitched	Robert Wilby
Gregory Seely, his son	James Wallace
Lawrence, his servant	Mike Rogers
Joan Seely, his wife	Virginia Denham
Winny Seely, his daughter	Karen Hayley
Parnell, his serving-woman	Sabina Netherclift
Soldier	Karl Stimpson
Miller	James Marsh
Boy, the Miller’s son	Nicholas Kollgaard
Epilogue	Liza Hayden

Spirits, Musicians, Country Rustics and Officers played by members of the company

EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION

On 16 August 1634 Nathaniel Tomkyns wrote a business letter to his acquaintance Sir Robert Phelips, and to lighten the tone at the end Tomkyns turned to some ‘merriment’ which he thought might interest Phelips. In London, he wrote, ‘hath been lately a new comedy at the Globe called The Witches of Lancashire, acted by reason of the great concourse of people three days together’. For a repertory company like the King’s men to perform a play three times in succession indicates enormous popularity, and Tomkyns explained that the subject matter was sensational: ‘the slights and passages done or supposed to be done by these witches sent from thence hither’, and moreover the supposed witches were ‘still visible and in prison here’. Unlike most drama of the period, the play was about contemporary, indeed ongoing, events: the apprehension, conviction, and summoning to London for sentencing of four women from Pendle Forest in Lancashire found guilty of witchcraft at the Lancaster assizes. Tomkyns’s 400-word eyewitness account of the Globe performance is reproduced in Appendix 1.

While the Lancashire women languished in jail in London in the summer of 1634, two seasoned dramatists, Thomas Heywood and Richard Brome, planned a play based on the case. Somehow they obtained transcripts of the witness’s and defendants’ depositions which were intended only for privy council use, and they drew upon these for journalistic details. One of these depositions, as published in 1677, is Appendix 2. When their play was nearly ready, the King’s men successfully petitioned the lord chamberlain to prevent other companies performing witch plays, so preserving their ‘scoop’, and on 11, 12, or 13 August (we cannot be sure which), The Witches of Lancashire opened at the Globe.

In the autumn of 1634 a quarto of the play appeared under the title The Late Lancashire Witches, the word ‘late’ indicating that this was the recent story of Pendle witches, not a similar case originating from the same place in 1612. One of the British Library copies of this 1634 quarto, whose running header ‘The Witches of Lancashire’ confirms the play’s proper title, is the control text for this edition. Brome and Heywood’s play effectively takes the prosecution’s side in the case, showing the women to be guilty of witchcraft and showing those who doubt this or worse, doubt the existence of witchcraft altogether, to be naïve. The most sustained bewitching of which they are guilty is the inversion of social order within the Seely household so that son and daughter (Gregory and Winny) bully their parents but are in turn bullied by their servants (Lawrence and Parnell). Although all the characters are from Lancashire, the dramatists chose to give only Lawrence and Parnell distinctive northern, provincial accents, represented in the quarto by inconsistent use of almost indecipherably non-standard spelling. It seems that a London audience could be expected to delight in regional stereotyping, at least among low class characters.

The Witches of Lancashire is the only surviving collaboration by Brome. Heywood had been writing plays for more than thirty years but Brome’s rise was relatively recent, having had two hits in his first year writing for the stage, 1629: The Lovesick Maid and The Northern Lass, both for the King’s men. To the partnership Heywood brought not only his extensive dramatic experience (he claimed to already have written or contributed to some 220 plays) but also his knowledge of witch-lore. The topsy-turvydom of the Seely household is an exploration of the comedy of inversion which Brome was to develop fully in his The Antipodes.

The play is highly comic but for a modern spectator or reader, knowledge of the serious predicament of the real subjects – most of whom denied the charges – can darken the atmosphere of its reception. Such qualms seem not to have troubled Tomkyns, for whom it was merely ‘full of ribaldry’, ‘fopperies to provoke laughter’, and ‘diverse songs and dances’, making in all a ‘merry and excellent new play’. The historical record of the accused women fades into obscurity; although their accuser confessed to inventing his story, no pardon is recorded and the women were still in jail when they disappear from our view in 1637. Tomkyns’s end is better recorded: on 5 July 1643 he was hanged for counter-parliamentary treason.

Gabriel Egan

THE

WITCHES

LANCASHIRE

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

The Persons in the Play

[PROLOGUE]
ARTHUR
SHAKESTONE	three young gentlemen, and friends
BANTAM
GENEROUS	a wealthy and generous squire
MISTRESS GENEROUS	Generous’s wife, and a witch
WHETSTONE	her dimwitted young nephew
ROBERT	Generous’s groom
MOLL Spencer	Robert’s sweetheart, and a witch
GILLIAN Dickinson
MAWD Hargreave	three witches
MEG Johnson
SEELY	a wealthy squire whose household is bewitched
DOUGHTY	his friend
JOAN	Seely’s wife
GREGORY	Seely’s son
WINNY	Seely’s daughter
LAWRENCE	Gregory’s servant
PARNELL	Winny’s servant
MILLER
BOY	the Miller’s son
SOLDIER
RABBLE of hoydens
Piper, Drummer, Demon-child, Constable, and Officers

	[Enter] the PROLOGUE

	Corrantoes failing, and no foot-post late
	Possessing us with news of foreign state,
	No accidents abroad worthy relation
	Arriving here, we are forc’d from our own nation
	To ground the scene that’s now in agitation.
	The project unto many here well known,
	Those witches the fat jailer 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 rais’d,		10
	So may the scene pass pardon’d, though not prais’d . [Exit]

	ACT 1, SCENE 1

	Enter ARTHUR, SHAKESTONE, and
	BANTAM, as from hunting

Arthur	Was ever sport of expectation
	Thus cross’d in th’ height?
Shakestone	Tush, these are accidents
	All game is subject to.
Arthur	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	Oh, you speak this
	Because a hare hath cross’d you.
Arthur	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,		10
	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 ceas’d,
	And at the instant, when I durst have laid
	My life to gage my dog had pinch’d her, then
	To vanish into nothing?
Shakestone	Somewhat strange,
	But not as you enforce it.
Arthur	Make it plain
	That I am in an error! Sure I am
	That I about me have no borrow’d eyes;
	They are mine own and matches.
Bantam	She might find		20
	Some muse as then not visible to us
	And escape that way.
Shakestone	Perhaps some fox had
	Earth’d 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.
Arthur	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 toss’d or troubled,		30
	To that will I give credit.
Bantam	Come, come, all men
	Were never of one mind, nor I of yours.
Shakestone	To leave this argument, are you resolv’d
	Where we shall dine today?
Arthur	Yes, where we purpos’d.
Bantam	That was with Master Generous.
Arthur	True, the same,
	And where a loving welcome is presum’d,
	Whose liberal table’s never unprepar’d,
	Nor he of guests unfurnish’d. Of his means,
	There’s none can bear it with a braver port
	And keep his state unshaken. One who sells not		40
	Nor covets he to purchase, holds his own
	Without oppressing others, always press’d
	To endear to him any known gentleman
	In whom he finds good parts.
Bantam	A character
	Not common in this age.
Arthur	I cannot wind him up
	Unto the least part of his noble worth;
	’Tis far above my strength.

	Enter WHETSTONE

Shakestone	See who comes yonder:
	A fourth to make us a full mess of guests
	At Master Generous’ table.
Arthur	Tush, let him pass.
	He is not worth our luring – a mere coxcomb.		50
	It is a way to call our wits in question
	To have him seen amongst us.
Bantam	He hath spied us;
	There is no way to evade him.
Arthur	That’s my grief.
	A most notorious liar: out upon him!
Shakestone	Let’s set the best face on’t.
Whetstone	What, gentlemen? All mine old acquaintance? A
	whole triplicity of friends together? Nay then, ’tis
	three to one we shall not soon part company.
Shakestone	Sweet Master Whetstone!
Bantam	Dainty Master Whetstone!		60
Arthur	Delicate Master Whetstone!
Whetstone	You say right! Master Whetstone I have been,
	Master Whetstone I am, and Master 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 Master Shakestone,
	dainty Master Bantam, and dainty Master
	Arthur! And how? And how? What, all lustick?
	All froligozone? I know you are going to my		70
	uncle’s to dinner, and so am I too. What, shall we
	all make one rendezvous there? You need not
	doubt of your welcome.
Shakestone	No doubt at all, kind Master 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?
Whetstone	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		80
	do I lie!
Arthur	[aside] I never heard that word proceed from him
	I durst call truth till now.
Whetstone	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?
Bantam	I think you are a witch, Master Whetstone.
Whetstone	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		90
	country. But I am sure I look like no such ugly
	creature.
Shakestone	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.
Whetstone	No such kind of people? I pray you tell me
	gentlemen, did never any one of you know my
	mother?
Arthur	Why, was your mother a witch?
Whetstone	I do not say as witches go nowadays, for they for		100
	the most part are ugly old beldams, but she was a
	lusty young lass and, by her own report, by her
	beauty and fair looks bewitched my father.
Bantam	It seems then your mother was rather a young
	wanton wench than an old withered witch.
Whetstone	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 By-blow by the father’s.
Arthur	It appears then, by your discourse, that you came
	in at the window.		110
Whetstone	I would have you think I scorn, like my
	grandam’s cat, to leap over the hatch.
Shakestone	[To ARTHUR] He hath confess’d himself to be a bastard.
Arthur	[To SHAKESTONE] And I believe’t as a notorious truth.
Whetstone	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?
Arthur	[To SHAKESTONE] Very probable, for as he was
	got without fear, so it is apparent he was born
	without wit.		120
Whetstone	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 twelve. 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?
Shakestone	We mean this day to see what fare he keeps.
Whetstone	And you know it is his custom to fare well, and in		130
	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.
Bantam	And so entire us to you.
Shakestone	Sweet Master Whetstone!
Arthur	Kind Master By-blow!
Whetstone	I see you are perfect both in my name and
	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		140
	*præsentes, and that I take to be presently. Exit*
Arthur	Farewell As in præsenti.
Shakestone	It seems he’s piece of a scholar.
Arthur	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.		150
Bantam	Are these then the best parts he can boast of?
Arthur	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 out.
Shakestone	And what might that be?
Arthur	Of the same affinity with rest: at every second
	word he is commonly boasting either of his aunt
	or his uncle.

	Enter GENEROUS

Bantam	You name him in good time; see where he comes.
Generous	Gentlemen, welcome! ’Tis a word I use;		160
	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 let 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		170
	With me you shall be troublesome or bold,
	But still provided for my worthy friends
	Amongst whom you are listed.
Arthur	Noble sir,
	You generously instruct us and to express
	We can be your apt scholars – in a word
	We come to dine with you.
Generous	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		180
	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 had not been sauc’d 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,		190
	Take what you find and so.
Arthur	Sir, without flattery
	You may be call’d the sole surviving son
	Of long since banish’d hospitality.
Generous	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.
Bantam	Wherein, good sir?
Generous	I ever studied plainness
	And truth withal.
Shakestone	I pray express yourself.
Generous	In few I shall.
	I know this youth to whom my wife is aunt		200
	Is, as you needs must find him, weak and shallow,
	Dull as his name and what for kindred 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.
Arthur	Presume it, sir.
Generous	Now when you please pray enter, gentlemen.		210
Arthur	Would these my friends prepare the way before.
	To be resolv’d of one thing before dinner
	Would something add unto mine appetite.
	[To BANTAM and SHAKESTONE] Shall I
	entreat you so much?
Bantam	Oh sir, you may command us.

	Exit BANTAM and SHAKESTONE

Generous	I’th’ meantime
	Prepare your stomachs with a bowl of sack;
	My cellar can afford it. Now, Master Arthur,
	Pray freely speak your thoughts.
Arthur	I come not, sir
	To press a promise from you – take’t not so –		220
	Rather to prompt your memory in a motion
	Made to you not long since.
Generous	Was’t not about
	A manor, the best part of your estate,
	Mortgag’d to one slips no advantages
	Which you would have redeem’d?
Arthur	True sir, the same.
Generous	And as I think, I promis’d 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. Was’t not so?		230
Arthur	It was to that purpose we discoursed.
Generous	Provided – To have the writings in my custody.
	Else how should I secure mine own estate?
Arthur	To deny that I should appear to th’ world
	Stupid and of no brain.
Generous	Your money’s ready.
Arthur	And I remain a man oblig’d to you
	Beyond all utterance.
Generous	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.
Arthur	Sir, he hath.		240
	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.
Generous	Why, I entreat you?
Arthur	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 govern’d family,
	The house – as if the ridge were fix’d below
	And groundsills lifted up to make the roof –		250
	All now turn’d topsy-turvy.
Generous	Strange! But how?
Arthur	In such a retrograde and preposterous way
	As seldom hath been heard of – I think never.
Generous	Can you discourse the manner?
Arthur	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 prepar’d curtsy. The girl she
	Expects it as a duty, chides her mother,
	Who quakes and trembles at each word she speaks.		260
	And, what’s as strange, the maid she domineers
	O’er her young mistress who is aw’d 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.
Generous	How think you might this come?
Arthur	’Tis thought by witchcraft.
Generous	They that think so dream,
	For my belief is no such thing can be;		270
	A madness you may call it. Dinner stays;
	That done the best part of the afternoon
	We’ll spend about your business. Exeunt
[1.2]
	Enter 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.
Seely	Alas, he is my child.
Doughty	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		10
	and kick my heels at the skies.

	Enter GREGORY

Seely	You do not know what an only son is. Oh see, he
	comes! Now if you can appease his anger toward
	me, you shall do an act of timely charity.
Doughty	It is an office that I am but weakly versed in, to
	plead to a son in the father’s behalf. [aside] Bless
	me what looks the devilish young rascal frights the
	poor man withal!
Gregory	I wonder at your confidence and how you dare
	appear before me.		20
Doughty	[aside] A brave beginning!
Seely	Oh son, be patient.
Gregory	It is right reverend counsel; I thank you for it. I
	shall study patience, shall I, while you practice
	ways to beggar me, shall I?
Doughty	[aside] Very handsome!
Seely	If ever I transgress in the like again –
Gregory	I have taken your word too often, sir, and neither
	can nor will forbear you longer.
Doughty	What, not your father, Master Gregory?
Gregory	What’s that to you, sir?		30
Doughty	Pray tell me then, sir, how many years has he to
	serve you?
Gregory	What, do you bring your spokesman now, your
	advocate? What fee goes out of my estate now for
	his oratory?
Doughty	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. You’re so beneath
	The title of a son you cannot claim		40
	To be a man, and let me tell you, were you mine,
		Thou shouldst not eat but on thy knees before me!
Seely	Oh, 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		50
	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.
Doughty	Alas poor man! [To GREGORY] Can you stand open-eyed
	Or dry-eyed either at this now in a father?
Gregory	Why, if it grieve you, you may look off on’t.
	I have seen more than this twice twenty times,		60
	And have as often been deceived by his
	Dissimulations. I can see nothing mended.
Doughty	He is a happy sire that has brought up his son to
	this!
Seely	All shall be mended. Son, content yourself.
	But this time forget but this last fault.
Gregory	Yes, for a new one tomorrow!
Doughty	Pray, Master 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		70
	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.
Gregory	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?
Seely	But I did it not, son!
Gregory	I know it very well, but your dotage had done it if		80
	my care had not prevented it.
Doughty	Is that the business? Why if he had done it, had he
	not been sufficiently secured in having the
	mortgage made over to himself?
Gregory	He does nothing but practice ways to undo
	himself and me. A very spendthrift, a prodigal sire,
	he was at the ale but t’other day and spent a
	fourpenny club.
Seely	’Tis gone and past, son.
Gregory	Can you hold your peace, sir? And not long ago at		90
	the wine he spent his tester and two pence to the
	piper. That was brave was it not?
Seely	Truly, we were civilly merry, but I have left it.
Gregory	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.
Doughty	Fie! Master 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		100
	a stroke and I’ll beat him!’ Bless me, they make me
	almost as mad as themselves.
Gregory	’Twere good you would meddle with your own
	matters, sir.
Seely	Son, son.
Gregory	Sir, sir, as I am not beholden to you for house or
	land – for it has stood in the name of my ancestry
	the Seelys above two hundred years – so will I
	look you leave all as you found it.

	Enter LAWRENCE

Lawrence	What is the matter, can you tell?		110
Gregory	O Lawrence, welcome, thou wilt make all well, I
	am sure.
Lawrence	Yea, which way, can you tell? But what the foul
	evil do you, here’s such a din?
Doughty	Art thou his man, fellow, ha, that talkest thus to
	him?
Lawrence	Yea sir, and what ma’ you o’ that? He maintains
	me to rule him ,and I’ll do’t – or ma’ the heart
	weary o’ the womb of him.
Doughty	[aside] This is quite upside down: the son controls		120
	the father and the man overcrows his master’s
	coxcomb – sure they are all bewitched.
Gregory	’Twas but so, truly Lawrence. The peevish old
	man vexed me, for which I did my duty in telling
	him his own, and Master Doughty here maintains
	him against me.
Lawrence	I forboden you to meddle with the old carl, and let
	me alone with him, yet you still be at him. He
	served you but well to baste ye for’t, an he were
	strong enough, but an I fall foul with ye, and I		130
	swaddle ye not savourly, may my guts brast.
Seely	Prithee, good Lawrence, be gentle and do not
	fright thy master so.
Lawrence	Yea, at your command anon!
Doughty	Enough, good Lawrence; you have said enough.
Lawrence	How trow you that? A fine world when a man
	cannot be quiet at home for busy-brained
	neighbours.
Doughty	[aside] I know not what to say to anything here;
	this cannot be but witchcraft.		140

	Enter JOAN and WINNY

Winny	I cannot endure it nor I will not endure it!
Doughty	[aside] Hey day! The daughter upon the mother,
	too!
Winny	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.
Joan	Daughter, I say –
Winny	Do you say the ‘daughter’? For that word I say the		150
	‘mother’! Unless you can prove me the eldest, as
	my discretion almost warrants 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.
Winny	Oh, will you so? In so doing I may chance to look		160
	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 weird sisters. Oh,
	my heart has got the hiccup and all looks green
	about me! A merry song now, mother, and thou
	shalt be my white girl.
Joan	Ha, ha, ha! She’s overcome with joy at my
	conversion.
Doughty	[aside] She is most evidently bewitched.
Joan	(sings) There was a deft lad and a lass fell in love,		170
	With a fa la la, fa la la, langtidown dilly.
	With kissing and toying this maiden did prove,
	With a fa la la, fa la la, langtidown dilly,
	So wide i’ th’ waist and her belly so high,
	That unto her mother the maiden did cry.
	Oh langtidown dilly, Oh langtidown dilly,
	Fa la la langtidown, langtidown dilly.

	Enter PARNELL

Parnell	Thus would you do an I were dead. But while I
	live you fadge not on it. Is this all the work you
	can find?		180
Doughty	[aside] Now comes the maid to set her mistresses
	to work!
Winny	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.
Doughty	[aside] Here’s a house well governed!
Parnell	Dress me no dressings, lessen I dress you both and
	learn a new lesson with a wanion right now. Ha’		190
	I been a servant here this half dozen o’ years, and
	can I see you idler than myself?
Joan & Winny	Nay, prithee, sweet Parnell, content and hark thee –
	[JOAN and WINNY talk to Parnell aside]
Doughty	[aside] 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.
Parnell	Yea, yea, ye shall, ye shall, another time but not		200
	now, I thank you. You shall as soon piss and
	paddle in’t as slap me in the mouth with an old
	petticoat or a new pair o’ shoen to be quiet. I
	cannot be quiet, nor I will not be quiet to see sicky
	doings, I.
Lawrence	Hold thy prattle, Parnell; all’s come about as ween
	’a’ had it. Wot’st thou what, Parnell? Wot’st thou
	what? Oh dear, wot’st thou what?
Parnell	What’s the fond waxen wild, trow I.
Lawrence	We ha’ been in love these three years, and ever		210
	we had not enough. Now is it come about that our
	love shall be at an end for ever and a day, for we
	mu’ wed, my honey, we mu’ wed.
Parnell	What the devil ails thee, limmer loon? Been thy
	brains broke loose, trow I.
Lawrence	Such a wedding was there never i’ Lancashire as
	we’ll couple at on Monday next.
Parnell	Aw, aw, say you this sickerly or done you but jam
	me?
Lawrence	I jam thee not nor flam thee not; ’tis all as true as		220
	book. [Shows a paper] Here’s both our masters
	have consented and concluded, and our mistresses
	mu’ yield to’t, to put all house and land and all
	they have into our hands.
Parnell	Aw, aw!
Lawrence	And we mu’ marry and be master and dame of
	all!
Parnell	Aw, aw!
Lawrence	And they be our sojourners, because they are
	weary of the world, to live in friendliness and see		230
	what will come on’t
Parnell	Aw, aw, go on!
Seely & Gregory		Nay, ’tis true, Parnell; here’s both our hands on’t,
	and give you joy!
Joan & Winny	And ours too, and ’twill be fine i’fackins.
Parnell	Aw, aw, aw, aw!
Doughty	[aside] Here’s a mad business towards!
Seely	I will bespeak the guests.
Gregory	And I the meat.
Joan	I’ll dress the dinner, though I drip my sweat.
Lawrence	My care shall sumptuous ’pparelments provide.		240
Winny	And my best art shall trickly trim the bride.
Parnell	Aw, aw, aw, aw!
Gregory	I’ll get choice music for the merriment.
Doughty	[aside] And I will wait with wonder the event!
Parnell	Aw, aw, aw, aw! Exeunt

	ACT 2, SCENE 1

	Enter four witches severally

All	Ho! Well met, well met.
Meg	What new device, what dainty strain,
	More for our mirth now than our gain,
	Shall we in practice put?
Moll	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.				10
Gillian	Therefore sing, Mawd, and call each sprite.

	Enter four spirits

Mawd	[Sings] Come away, and take thy duggy.
Meg	Come, my Mamilion, like a puggy.
Mawd	And come, my Puckling, take thy teat,
	Your travails have deserv’d your meat.
Meg	Now, upon the churl’s ground
	On which we’re met, let’s dance a round,
	That cockle, darnell, poppia wild
	May choke his grain and fill the field.
Gillian	Now spirits fly about the task				20
	That we projected in our masque. 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.				30
Gillian	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!
Gillian	But to be short,
	The wedding must bring on the sport
	Betwixt the hare-brain’d man and maid,
	Master and dame that oversway’d.				40
All	Ha, ha, ha!
Meg	Enough, enough!
	Our sides are charm’d or else this stuff
	Would laughter-crack them. Let’s away
	About the jig: we dance today
	To spoil the hunters’ sport.
Gillian	Ay, 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 foreswear				50
	And hang their dogs up.
Mawd	Stay, but where
	Must the long-threaten’d hare be found?
Gillian	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.
Gillian	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,				60
	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.
Gillian	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, Gillian, by your gaunt thin gut.				70
	But where will Mawd bestow herself today?
Mawd	O’ th’ steeple-top I’ll sit and see you play. Exeunt

[2.2]
	Enter GENEROUS, ARTHUR, BANTAM,
	SHAKESTONE, and WHETSTONE

Generous	At meeting and at parting, gentlemen,
	I only make use of that general word
	So frequent at all feasts, and that but once:
	You’re ‘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.
Bantam & Shakestone		We acknowledge it.
Whetstone	My hand is there too, for a man cannot set to his				10
	mark but it may be call’d 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.
Bantam	You write, sir, like yourself.
Generous	Pray take no notice of his ignorance;
	You know what I foretold you.
Arthur	’Tis confess’d.
	But for that word by you so seldom spoke,
	By us so freely on your part perform’d,
	We hold us much engag’d.
Generous	I pray, no compliment;
	It is a thing I do not use myself				20
	Nor do I love’t in others.
Arthur	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 supererogate,
	Supplying the defects of all your kindred,
	To ennoble your own name. I now have done, sir.				30
Whetstone	Hey day! This gentleman speaks like a country
	parson that had took his text out of Ovid’s
	Metamorphoses.
Generous	[To ARTHUR] 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.
Arthur	Your name proclaims
	To be such as it speaks you: generous.
Generous	Still in that strain!
Arthur	Sir, sir, whilst you persevere to be good				40
	I must continue grateful.
Generous	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?
Arthur	We are like travellers,
	And where such bait they do not use to inn.
	Our love and service to you.
Generous	The first I accept;
	The last I entertain not. Farewell, gentlemen.
Arthur	We’ll try if we can find in our way home,				50
	When hares come from their coverts to relieve,
	A course or two.
Whetstone	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,				60
	uncle.
Generous	Cousin, I wish you would consort yourself
	With such men ever and make them your precedent
	For a more gentle carriage.
Arthur	Good Master Generous – Exeunt all but Generous

	Enter ROBERT

Generous	Robin!
Robert	Sir?
Generous	Go call your mistress hither.
Robert	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.				70
Generous	Why, she’s not deaf, I hope. I am sure since dinner
	she had her hearing perfect.
Robert	And so she may have at supper too for ought I
	know, but I can assure you she is not now within
	my call.
Generous	Sirrah, you trifle. Give me the key o’ th’ stable,
	I will go see my gelding. I’ th’ meantime
	Go seek her out, say she shall find me there.
Robert	To tell you true, sir, I shall neither find
	My mistress here, nor you your gelding there.				80
Generous	Ha? How comes that to pass?
Robert	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.
Generous	Which of your fellows did she take along to wait
	on her?
Robert	None, sir.
Generous	None? Hath she us’d it often?
Robert	Oftener I am sure than she goes to church, and
	leave out Wednesdays and Fridays.				90
Generous	And still alone?
Robert	If you call that alone, when nobody rides in her
	company.
Generous	But what times hath she sorted for these journeys?
Robert	Commonly when you are abroad, and sometimes
	when you are full of business at home.
Generous	To ride out often and alone! What saith she
	When she takes horse, and at her back return?
Robert	Only conjures me that I shall keep it from you,
	then claps me in the fist with some small piece of				100
	silver, and then a fish cannot be more silent that I.
Generous	I know her a good woman and well bred,
	Of an unquestion’d carriage, well reputed
	Amongst her neighbours, reckon’d 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				110
	He be denied. If she be vex’d or mov’d,
	Do not thou feare: I’ll interpose myself
	Betwixt thee and her anger. As you tender
	Your duty and my service, see this done.
Robert	Now you have expressed your mind I know what
	I have to do: first, not to tell her what I have told
	you, and 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.
Generous	As oft as thou deny’st her, so oft claim				120
	That tester from me; ’t shall be roundly paid.
Robert	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!
Generous	So much for that. Sirrah, my butler tells me
	My cellar is drunk dry – I mean those bottles
	Of sack and claret are all empty grown				130
	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.
Robert	[aside] Good news for me! – I shall sir.
Generous	Oh Robin, it comes short of that pure liquor
	We drunk last term in London at the Mitre
	In Fleet Street – thou rememberest it? Methought
	It was the very spirit of the grape,
	Mere quintessence of wine!
Robert	Yes, sir, I so remember it that most certain it is I				140
	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?
Generous	What then? But vain are wishes. Take those bottles
	And see them fill’d where I command you, sir.
Robert	I shall. [aside] Never could I have met with such a				150
	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, Moll Spencer. Exit
Generous	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.				160

	Enter a SOLDIER

Soldier	You seem, sir, a gentlemen 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.
Generous	Though I could tax you friend, and 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				170
	Than to use power. Where hast thou served?
Soldier	With the Russian against the Polack, a heavy war
	and hath brought me to this hard fate. I was took
	prisoner by the Pole and, 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?
Generous	It shall not need. What countryman?
Soldier	Yorkshire, sir. Many a sharp battle by land, and
	many a sharp storm at sea, many a long mile, and				180
	many a short meal, I have travelled and suffered
	ere I could reach thus far. I beseech you, sir, take
	my poor and wretched case into your worship’s
	noble consideration.
Generous	Perhaps thou lov’st this wandering life,
	To be an idle loitering beggar, than
	To eat of thine own labour.
Soldier	I, 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, plough, thresh, dig, delve,				190
	anything: your worship shall find that I love
	nothing less than loitering.
Generous	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 bones to powder betwixt
	the millstones. ‘Cats’ do you call them? For their
	hugeness they might be cat o’ 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				200
	them. I’ll be sworn they have scratched where I
	am sure it itched not.
Generous	How camest thou in this pickle?
Miller	You see, sir, and what you see I have felt, and 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 millers 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,				210
	and 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
	torn into as many fitters as I have toes and fingers.
Soldier	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,			220
	Or dogs, or devils, shall so conjure them
	I’ll quiet my possession.
Generous	Well spoke, soldier!
	I like thy resolution. [To MILLER] Fellow, you then
	Have given the mill quite over?
Miller	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.
Soldier	I pray, sir, dare you trust your mill with me?
Generous	I dare, but I am loath, my reasons these:				230
	For many months scarce anyone hath lain there
	But have been strangely frighted in his sleep,
	Or from his warm bed drawn into the floor,
	Or claw’d and scratch’d as thou see’st this poor man,
	So much that it stood long untenanted,
	Till he late undertook it. Now thine eyes
	Witness how he hath sped.
Soldier	Give me the keys; I’ll stand it all danger.
Generous	’Tis a match. [To MILLER] Deliver them.
Miller	Marry, with all my heart, and I am glad I am so rid				240
	of ’em. Exeunt

[2.3]
	Enter BOY with a switch

Boy	Now I have gathered bullace 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 I love better than going to school,
	ten to one.

	Enter an invisible spirit (John Adson) with a brace
	of greyhounds

	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 Master				10
	Robinson’s dogs, that dwells some two miles off.
	I’ll take them up and lead them home to their
	master; it may be something in my way for he is
	as liberal a gentlemen as any is in our country. [To
	one of the dogs] 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
	bullace. Come, poor curs, along with me. Exeunt

[2.4]
	Enter ARTHUR, BANTAM, SHAKESTONE,
	and WHETSTONE

Arthur	My dog as yours.
Shakestone	For what?
Arthur	A piece.
Shakestone	’Tis done.
Bantam	I say the pied dog shall outstrip the brown.
Whetstone	And I’ll take the brown dog’s part against the pied.
Bantam	Yes, when he’s at his lap you’ll take his part.
Arthur	Bantam, forbear him prithee.
Bantam	He talks so like an ass; I have not patience to
	endure his nonsense!
Whetstone	The brown dog for two pieces.
Bantam	Of what?
Whetstone	Of what you dare! Name them from the last				10
	farthings, with the double rings, to the late-coined
	pieces which they say are all counterfeit.
Bantam	Well, sir, I take on. [Shows him coins] Will you
	cover these? Give them into the hands of either
	of those two gentlemen.
Whetstone	What needs that? Do you think my word and my
	money is not all one?
Bantam	And weigh alike – both many grains too light.
Shakestone	Enough of that. I presume, Master Whetstone,
	you are not ignorant what belongs to the sport of				20
	hunting?
Whetstone	I think I have reason, for I have been at the death
	of more hares –
Bantam	More than you shed the last fall of the leaf.
Whetstone	More than any man here I am sure. I should be
	loath at these years to be ignorant of haring or
	whoring. I knew a hare, close hunted, climb a tree.
Bantam	To find out birds’ nests!
Whetstone	Another leap into a river, nothing appearing above
	water save only the tip of her nose to take breath.				30
Shakestone	Nay that’s very likely, for no man can fish with an
	angle but his line must be made of hair.
Whetstone	You say right! I knew another who to escape the
	dogs hath taken a house and leapt in at a window.
Bantam	It is thought you came into the world that way.
Whetstone	How mean you that?
Bantam	Because you are a bastard.
Whetstone	Bastard? O, base!
Bantam	And thou art base all over.
Arthur	Needs must I now condemn your indiscretion,				40
	To set your wit against his!
Whetstone	‘Bastard’? That shall be tried. Well, gentlemen,
	concerning hare hunting, you might have heard
	more if he had had the grace to have said less. But
	for the word ‘bastard’, if I do not tell my uncle, ay,
	and my aunt too, either when I would speak ought
	or go off the score for anything, 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				50
	thine ears, if thou hast them still, and not lost
	them by scribbling, instead of Whetstone call me
	Grindstone, and for By-blow, Bullfinch.
	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
Arthur	What have you done? ’Twill grieve the good old
	gentleman to hear him baffled thus.
Bantam	I was in a cold sweat ready to faint				60
	The time he stayed amongst us.
Shakestone	But come; now the hare is found and started!
	She shall have law. So to our sport! Exeunt

[2.5]
	Enter BOY with the greyhounds

Boy	A hare, a hare! Halloo, halloo! The devil take these
	curs; will they not stir? Halloo, halloo! There,
	there, there! What, are they grown so lither and so
	lazy?Are Master Robinson’s dogs turned tykes
	with a wanion? The hare is yet in sight, halloo,
	halloo! Marry, hang you for a couple of mongrels
	(if you were worth hanging), and 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,				10
	and, 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 ‘halloo, halloo!’
	means.

	As he beats them, there appears before him [GILLIAN]
	Dickinson and [a small demon-child in place of the
	greyhounds]

	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 Dickinson.
Gillian	Sirrah, you have serv’d me well to swinge me thus!		20
	You young rogue, you have us’d 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? [He kneels] If you be, I beg upon my
	knees you will not hurt me.
Gillian	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! [aside] And now she is out of her				30
	four-legged shape, I’ll see if with my two legs I can
	outrun her! [He runs away]
Gillian	Nay, sirrah, though you be young, and I old,
	You are not so nimble, nor I so lame,
	But I can overtake you. [She seizes him]
Boy	But gammer, what do you mean to do with me
	now you have me?
Gillian	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				40
	Thou must along with me to a brave feast.
Boy	Not I, gammer, indeed, la. I dare not stay out late.
	My father is a fell man, and, if I be out long, will
	both chide and beat me.
Gillian	‘Not’, sirrah? Then perforce thou shalt along.
	This bridle helps me still at need,
	And shall provide us of a steed.
	[To the demon-child] Now, sirrah, take your shape and be
	Prepar’d to hurry him and me. –
	Now look and tell me what’s the lad become?				50
	[The demon-child] exit[s and BOY peers through the
	stage door after him]
Boy	The boy is vanished, and I can see nothing in his
	stead but a white horse, ready saddled and bridled.
Gillian	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.				60
Boy	Help! Help!
	She catches him up, and turning round, [they] exit

[2.6]
	Enter ROBERT and MOLL

Robert	Thanks, my sweet Moll, for thy courteous
	entertainment: thy cream, thy cheese-cakes, and
	every good thing. ([He] kiss[es her]) This, this, and
	this for all!
Moll	But why in such haste, good Robin?
Robert	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 bandolier of bottles to fill tonight, and
	then half a score mile to ride by curry-comb time				10
	in the morning, or the old man chides, Moll.
Moll	He shall not chide thee; fear it not.
Robert	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.
Moll	Well, Robert, I find your love by your haste from
	me. I’ll undertake you shall be at Lancaster, and				20
	twice as far, and yet at home time enough, an be
	ruled by me.
Robert	Thou art a witty rogue, and think’st to make me
	believe anything because I saw thee make thy
	broom sweep the house without hands t’other
	day!
Moll	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				30
	Lawrence and Parnell tomorrow.
Robert	Ay, your old sweetheart Lawrence! Old love will
	not be forgotten.
Moll	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?
Robert	Thy belly-ful, wench!
Moll	I’ll but take up my milk-pail and leave it in the				40
	field till our coming back in the morning, and
	we’ll away.
Robert	Go fetch it quickly, then.
Moll	No, Robert, rather than leave your company so
	long, it shall come to me.
Robert	I would but see that! (The pail goes [towards MOLL])
Moll	Look yonder, what do you think on’t?
Robert	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				50
	stink worse than the proverb of the bishop’s foot!
Moll	Look you, sir! [She grasps the pail] Here, I have it.
	Will you get up and away?
Robert	[Looking through doorway] My horse is gone! Nay,
	prithee, Moll, thou has set him away; leave thy
	roguery!
Moll	Look again.
Robert	There stands a black long-sided jade; mine was a
	trussed grey!
Moll	Yours was too short to carry double such a				60
	journey. Get up, I say, you shall have your own
	again i’ th’ morning.
Robert	Nay but, nay but –
Moll	Nay, an you stand butting now, I’ll leave you to
	look your horse. Pail, on afore to the field and stay
	till I come. [She puts down the pail and it goes out the door]
Robert	Come away, then. Hey for Lancaster. Stand up! Exeunt

	ACT 3, SCENE 1

	Enter SEELY and JOAN, 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
	tranquility is here towards!
Joan	You are so frolic and so crank now, upon the truce
	is taken amongst us because our wrangling shall		10
	not wrong the wedding. But take heed, you were
	best, how ye behave yourself, lest a day to come
	may pay for all!
Seely	I fear nothing, and I hope to die in this humour.
Joan	Oh, how hot am I! I’d rather than I would dress
	such another dinner this twelve month, I would
	wish ‘wedding’ quite out of this year’s almanac.
Seely	I’ll fetch a cup of sack, wife. [Exit]
Joan	How brag he is of his liberty, but the holiday
	carries it.		20

	[Enter SEELY with a cup]

Seely	[Hands her the cup] Here, here, sweetheart. They
	are long, methinks, a-coming. The bells have rung
	out this half hour; hark now the wind brings the
	sound of them sweetly again!
Joan	They ring backwards, methinks.
Seely	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		30
	have I lived to see a day! Come, take our stand and
	be ready for the bride-cake, which we will so crack
	and crumble upon her crown. Oh, they come,
	they come!

	Enter [fiddlers, leading the married couple]
	LAWRENCE [and] PARNELL, [attended by]
	WINNY, MOLL, [and] two country lasses, [then]
	DOUGHTY, GREGORY, ARTHUR,
	SHAKESTONE, BANTAM, and WHETSTONE

All	Joy, health, and children to the married pair!
Lawrence & Parnell		We thank you all.
Lawrence	So pray come in and fare.
Parnell	As well as we, and taste of every cate.
Lawrence	With bonny bridegroom and his lovely mate!
Arthur	This begins bravely.
Doughty	They agree better than the bells e’en now. ’Slid		40
	they rung tunably well 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!
Lawrence	On with your melody!
	The fiddlers pass through, and play the battle [as they exit]
Bantam	Enter the gates with joy,
	And as you enter play ‘The Sack of Troy’.

	[Enter a] spirit [above]

Joan	Welcome, bride Parnell.
Seely	Bridegroom Lawrence eke.
	[To LAWRENCE]
	In you before, for we this cake must break
	Over the bride – [Exit LAWRENCE]

	As they lift up the cake, the spirit snatches it and
	pours down bran

	Forgi’ me! What’s become o’ th’ cake, wife?		50
Joan	It slipped out of my hand and is fallen into
	crumbs, I think.
Doughty	[aside] ‘Crumbs?’ The devil of crumb is here – but
	bran, nothing but bran? What prodigy is this?
Parnell	Is my best bride’s cake come to this? Oh, woe
	worth it!
	Exit PARNELL, SEELY, JOAN, and maids
Whetstone	How daintily the bride’s hair is powder’d with it!
Arthur	My hair stands on end to see it!
Bantam	And mine!
Shakestone	I was never so amaz’d!
Doughty	What can it mean?
Gregory	Pax, I think not on’t! ’Tis but some of my father		60
	and mother’s roguery. This is a law-day with ’em,
	to do what they list.
Whetstone	I never fear anything so long as my aunt has but
	bidden me think of her, and she’ll warrant me.
Doughty	Well, gentlemen, let’s follow the rest in and fear
	Nothing yet. The house smells well of good cheer!

	Enter SEELY

Seely	Gentlemen, will it please you draw near? The
	guests are now all come and the house almost full,
	meat’s taken up –
Doughty	We were now coming.		70
Seely	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.
Doughty	Pah! I am not so old but I can carry more meat
	than I can eat. If the young rascals could carry		80
	their drink as well, the country would be quieter.
	Knocking within, as [upon a] dresser
Seely	Well, fare your hearts. The dresser calls in,
	gentlemen. Exeunt [all but SEELY]
	’Tis a busy time, yet will I review the bill of fare
	for this day’s dinner.
	[Taking a paper from his pocket, he] reads
	‘For forty people of the best quality, four 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 four chickens in		90
	a dish, a couple of rabbits, custard, flan,
	Florentines, and stewed prunes.’
	All very good country fare, and for my credit –

	Enter [fiddlers] playing [followed by] LAWRENCE,
	DOUGHTY, ARTHUR, SHAKESTONE,
	BANTAM, WHETSTONE, AND GREGORY,
	[all carrying covered] dishes. [The] spirit [above casts a
	spell on] the dishes as they enter.

	The service enters – Oh, well said music!
	Play up the meat to’ th’ table till all be serv’d in;
	I’ll see it pass in answer to my bill.
Doughty	Hold up you head, Master Bridegroom!
Lawrence	On afore, fiddlers, my doubler cools in my hands.
Seely	[Reading his bill] ‘Imprimis: A leg of mutton in
	plum broth’ – How now, Master Bridegroom,		100
	what carry you?
Lawrence	’Twere hot e’en now, but now it’s cold as a stone!

	[SEELY uncovers LAWRENCE’s dish to reveal a
	ram’s horn]
Seely	A stone? ’Tis horn, man!
Lawrence	Aw! Exit Fiddlers
Seely	It was mutton, but now ’tis the horns on’t.
Lawrence	Aw, where’s my bride? Exit
	[DOUGHTY, ARTHUR, SHAKESTONE,
	BANTAM, AND WHETSTONE uncover their
	dishes]
Doughty	’Zooks, 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!
Arthur	And if this were not a capon in white broth, I am			110
	one i’ the coop!
Shakestone	All, all’s transform’d! Look you what I have!
Bantam	And I!
Whetstone	And I! Yet I fear nothing, thank my aunt.
Gregory	I had a pie that is not open’d yet.
	I’ll see what’s in that –
	[He lifts the pie-crust and birds fly out]
	Live birds, as true as I live – look where they fly! Exit spirit
Doughty	Witches, live witches! The house is full of witches!
	If we love our lives, let’s out on’t.

	Enter JOAN and WINNY

Joan	O husband! O guests! O son! O gentlemen!			120
	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 Jew’s-ears, mushrooms, and
	puckfists, and all the custards into cow-shards!
Doughty	What shall we do? Dare we stay any longer?
Arthur	‘Dare we’? Why not? I defy all witches,
	And all their works; their power on our meat
	Cannot reach our persons.
Whetstone	I say so too,			130
	And so my aunt ever told me, so long
	I will fear nothing. Be not afraid, Master Doughty.
Doughty	’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.
Arthur	Sir, I will not go about to over-rule your reason,
	but for my part I will not out of a house on a
	bridal day, till I see the last man borne.
Doughty	’Zooks! Thou art so brave a fellow that I will stick			140
	to thee, and if we come off handsomely – I am an
	old bachelor, thou knowst, 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.
Joan	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.			150
Seely	And I will bid you welcome.
Doughty	Say you me so, but will not your son be angry and
	your daughter chide you?
Gregory	Fear not you that, sir, for look you I obey my
	father.
Winny	And I my mother.
Joan	And we are all at this instant as well and as
	sensible of our former errors as you can wish us to
	be.
Doughty	Nay, if the witches have but robbed of your meat,			160
	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.
Arthur	It seems though these hags had power to make the
	wedding cheer a deceptio visus, the former store
	has ’scaped ’em.
Doughty	I am glad on’t, but the devil good ’em with my
	sirloin. [aside] I thought to have set that by mine
	own trencher – But you have cold meat, you say?
Joan	Yes, sir!			170
Doughty	And wine, you say?
Joan	Yes, sir!
Doughtly	I hope the country wenches and the fiddlers are
	not gone?
Winny	They are all here, and one the merriest wench that
	makes all the rest so laugh and tickle.
Seely	Gentlemen, will you in?
All	Agreed on all parts!
Doughty	If not a wedding, we will make a wake on’t, and
	away with the witch. I fear nothing now you have			180
	your wits again. But look you hold ’em while you
	have ’em! Exeunt

[3.2]
	Enter GENEROUS, and ROBERT with a paper

Generous	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 – than that thou
	couldst in one night fetch it from London.
Robert	I have known when you have held me for an
	honest fellow, and would have believed me.
Generous	Th’art a knave to wish me to believe this. Forgi’
	me. I would have sworn, if thou hadst stayed but			10
	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 eight hours:
	you were no longer out, and upon one horse too,
	and in the night too!
Robert	[aside] And carry a wench behind me too, and did
	something else too, but I must not speak of her
	lest I be devil-torn.			20
Generous	And fill thy bottles too, and come home half
	drunk too, for so thou art, thou wouldst never ’a’
	had such a fancy else!
Robert	I am sorry I have said so much, and not let
	Lancaster have the credit o’ the wine.
Generous	Oh, are you so? And why have you abused me and
	yourself, then, all this while to glorify The Mitre
	in Fleet Street?
Robert	I could say, sir, that you might have the better
	opinion of the wine, for there are a great many			30
	palates in the kingdom that can relish no wine
	unless it be of such a tavern, and drawn by such a
	drawer –
Generous	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 Paine.
Robert	Nay then, sir, I swore, and I swear again: honest
	Jack Paine drew it.
Generous	Ha, ha, ha! If I could believe there were such a
	thing as witchcraft, I should think this slave were			40
	bewitched now with an opinion.
Robert	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.
Generous	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!			50
	[aside] What a strange fancy has good wine begot
	in his head?
Robert	[aside] Now will I push him over and over with a
	piece of paper. – Yes, sir, I have brought you
	something from London.
Generous	Come on, now, let me hear.
Robert	Your honest drawer, sir, considering that you
	considered him well for his good wine –
Generous	[aside] What shall we hear now?
Robert	Was very careful to keep or convey this paper to			60
	you, which it seems you dropped in the room
	there.
Generous	[aside] 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. –			70
	Well, Robin, look to your business, and have a
	care of my gelding. Exit
Robert	Yes, sir. I think I have nettled him now, but not as
	I was nettled last night: three hundred miles a
	night upon a raw-boned devil (as, in my heart, it
	was a devil), and then a wench that shared more o’
	my back than the said devil did o’ 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			80
	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 –

	Enter MISTRESS GENEROUS with a bridle

	Oh, my mistress!
Mrs Generous	Robin?
Robert	Ay, mistress?
Mrs Generous	Quickly, good Robin, the grey gelding.
Robert	What other horse you please, mistress.			90
Mrs Generous	And why not that?
Robert	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 diverse times.
Mrs Generous	Oh, 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!
Robert	You may say your pleasure. (He turns from her)			100
Mrs Generous	No, sir, I’ll do my pleasure. (She bridles him)
Robert	Aw!
Mrs Generous	‘Horse, horse, see thou be,
	And where I point thee carry me.’
	Exeunt, [he] neighing

[3.3]
	Enter ARTHUR, SHAKESTONE, AND
	BANTAM

Arthur	Was there ever such a medley of mirth, madness,
	and drunkenness shuffled together?
Shakestone	Thy uncle and aunt, old Master Seely and his
	wife, do nothing but kiss and play together like
	monkeys.
Arthur	Yes, they do over-love one another now.
Bantam	And young Gregory and his sister do as much
	overdo their obedience now to their parents.
Arthur	And their parents as much over-dote upon them.
	They are all as far beyond their wits now in loving			10
	one another as they were wide of them before in
	crossing.
Shakestone	Yet this is the better madness.
Bantam	But the married couple that are both so daintily
	whittled, that now they are both mad to be a-bed
	before supper-time – And by and by he will, and
	she won’t, straight she will and he won’t; the next
	minute they both forget they are married and defy
	one another.
Arthur	My sides e’en ache with laughter!			20
Shakestone	But the best sport of all is, the old bachelor Master
	Doughty, that was so cautious and 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, Moll Spencer.
Arthur	[aside] 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			30
	condition is that wench? Dost thou know her?
Shakestone	A little, but Whetstone knows her better.
Arthur	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.
Bantam	Who would ha’ thought that impudent rogue
	would have come among us after such a baffle?
Shakestone	He told me he had complained to his aunt on us,			40
	and that she would speak with us.
Arthur	We will all to her to patch up the business, for the
	respect I bear her husband, noble Generous.
Bantam	Here he comes.

	Enter WHETSTONE

Arthur	Hark you, Master By-blow, do you know the lass
	within? What do you call her, Moll Spencer?
Whetstone	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.
Arthur	You do well to keep it to yourself, sir!			50
Whetstone	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.
Shakestone	Take heed, he’s at your heels.

	Enter DOUGHTY, MOLL, and two country lasses

Doughty	Come away, wenches – where are you, gentlemen?
	Play, fiddlers, [To MOLL] let’s have a dance, ha,
	my little rogue! (Kisses MOLL) ’Zooks, what ails
	thy nose?
Moll	My nose? Nothing sir. (Turns about) Yet me
	thought a fly touched it. Did you see anything?			60
Doughty	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?
	[Fiddlers above begin] ‘Sellenger’s Round’
	Gentlemen, will you dance?
All	With all our hearts.
Arthur	But stay, where’s this household,
	This family of love? Let’s have them into the
	revels.
Doughty	[To the fiddlers] Hold a little, then.
Shakestone	Here they come all
	In a true-love knot.			70

	Enter SEELY, JOAN, GREGORY, [and] WINNY

Gregory	O father, twenty times a day is too little to ask
	you blessing.
Seely	Go to, you are a rascal! (To JOAN) And you,
	housewife, teach your daughter better manners. –
	I’ll ship you all for New England else.
Bantam	The knot’s untied, and this is another change.
Joan	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. (To WINNY) I’ll talk
	with you, dame, when the strangers are gone.			80
Gregory	Dear father.
Winny	Dear mother.
Gregory & Winny		Dear father and mother, pardon us but
	This time.
Seely & Joan	Never, and therefore hold your peace!
Doughty	Nay, that’s unreasonable.
Gregory & Winny		Oh! ([They] weep)
Seely	But for your sake I’ll forbear them, and bear with
	anything this day.
Arthur	[To DOUGHTY] Do you note this? Now they
	are all worse than ever they were, in a contrary
	vein. What think you of witchcraft now?			90
Doughty	They are all natural fools, man, I find it now. Art
	thou mad, to dream of witchcraft?
Arthur	[aside] He’s as much changed and bewitched as
	they, I fear.
Doughty	Hey day! Here comes the pair of boiled lovers in
	sorrel sops.

	Enter LAWRENCE and PARNELL

Lawrence	Nay, dear honey, nay honey, but once, once.
Parnell	No, no, I ha’ sworn, I ha’ sworn: not a bit afore
	bed. And look you, it’s but now dancing time.
Doughty	Come away, bridegroom, we’ll stay your stomach			100
	with a dance. [To the fiddlers above] Now,
	masters, play a-good. [To MOLL] Come, my lass,
	we’ll shown them how ’tis.

	[Fiddlers above begin] ‘Sellenger’s Round’ [again]. As
	[the guests] begin to dance, they play another tune, then
	[each plays a different tune]
Arthur, Bantam,
& Shakestone	Whither now, ho!
Doughty	Hey day! Why, you rogues.
Whetstone	What, does the devil ride o’ your fiddlesticks?
Doughty	You drunken rogues, hold, hold I say, and begin
	again soberly ‘The Beginning of the World’.

	[The fiddlers start again, each playing a different tune]
Arthur, Bantam,
& Shakestone	Ha, ha, ha, how’s this?
Bantam	Every one a several tune!			110
Doughty	This is something towards it. I bade them play
	‘The Beginning of the World’, and they play I
	know not what.
Arthur	No, ’tis ‘The Running o’ the Country’ several ways.
	But what do you think on’t? (Music cease[s])
Doughty	‘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.
Moll	Ha, ha, ha!			120
Doughty	Why dost thou laugh?
Moll	To think this bridegroom should once ha’ been
	mine, but he shall rue it. [She produces a point]
	I’ll hold him this point on’t, and that’s all I care for
	him.
Doughty	A witty rogue.
Whetstone	I tell you sir, they say she made a pail follow her
	t’other day up two pair of stairs.
Doughty	You lying rascal!
Arthur	O sir, forget your anger.			130
Moll	Look you, Master Bridegroom, what my care
	provides for you.
Lawrence	What, a point?
Moll	Yes, put it in your pocket. It may stand you in
	stead anon, when all your points are ta’en away, to
	truss up your trinkets, I mean your slops, withal.
Lawrence	Moll, for old acquaintance I will ma’ thy point a
	point of preferment. [He attaches it to his cod-piece]
	It sha’ be the foreman of a whole jury o’ points,
	and right here will I wear it.			140
Parnell	Wi’ ya? Wi’ ya? Old love wi’ no be forgotten, but
	I’s never be jealous the more for that!
Arthur	Play, fiddlers, anything!
Doughty	Ay, and let’s see your faces, that you play fairly
	with us.
	Musicians show themselves above
Fiddler	We do, sir, as loud as we can possibly.
Shakestone	Play out, that we may hear you.
Fiddler	So we do sir, as loud as we can possibly.
Doughty	Do you hear anything?
All	Nothing, not we, sir.			150
Doughty	’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.
	[The fiddlers begin to smash their instruments]
Arthur	Look you, sir, they’ll save you a labour: they are
	doing it themselves.
Whetstone	Oh, brave fiddlers! There was never better
	scuffling for the Tutbury bull.
Moll	[aside] This is Mother Johnson and Goody
	Dickinson’s roguery. I find it but I cannot help it,
	yet I will have music. – Sir, there’s a piper			160
	without, would be glad to earn money.
Whetstone	She has spoke to purpose, and 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. [Exit]
Doughty	Well said; a good boy now. 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			170
	please.
	[Enter WHETSTONE with a piper]

	Welcome, piper. Blow till thy bag crack again, a
	lusty hornpipe, and all into the dance – nay, young
	and old.

	[Piper plays and all join in the] dance [in which]
	LAWRENCE and PARNELL reel. At the end,
	MOLL and the piper [vanish]

All	Bravely performed.
Doughty	Stay, where’s my lass?
Arthur, Bantam,
& Shakestone	Vanished! She and the piper both vanished,
	nobody knows how.
Doughty	Now do I plainly perceive again: here has been
	nothing but witchery all this day. Therefore, in to			180
	your posset and agree among yourselves as you
	can. I’ll out o’ the house, and gentlemen, if you
	love me or yourselves, follow me.
Arthur, Bantam,
Shakestone, & Whetstone			Ay, ay, away, away! Exeunt
Seely	Now, good son, wife, and daughter, let me entreat
	you be not angry.
Winny	Oh, you are a trim mother, are you not?
Joan	Indeed, child; I’ll do so no more.
Gregory	[To LAWRENCE] Now, sir, I’ll talk with you,
	your champions are all gone.			190
Lawrence	Well, sir, and what wi’ you do then?
Parnell	Why, why, what’s here to do? Come away, and
	quickly, and see us into our bride-chamber, and
	delicately lodged together, or we’ll whip you out
	o’ doors i’th’ morn to sojourn in the common!
	Come away.
All	We follow ye. Exeunt

	ACT 4, SCENE 1

	Enter MISTRESS GENEROUS [carrying a bridle]
	and ROBERT

Mrs Generous	Know you this jingling bridle, if you see’t again? I
	wanted but a pair of jingling spurs to make you
	mend your pace and put you into a sweat.
Robert	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 Generous	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			10
	good Robert. You will not let me have your
	master’s gelding, you will not? Well, sir, as you
	like this journey, so deny him to me hereafter.
Robert	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 Generous	Do you grumble, you groom? Now the bridle’s
	off, I turn thee to grazing. Gramercy, my good
	horse. I have no better provender for thee at this			20
	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 make a short-
	cut home. Farewell.
Robert	A pox upon your tail!

	Enter all the witches and MOLL, at several doors

Witches	The lady of the feast is come. Welcome, welcome.
Mrs Generous	Is all the cheer that was prepar’d to grace
	The wedding feast yet come?
Gillian	Part of it’s here.
	The other we must pull for.
	[Observing Robert] But what’s he?			30
Mrs Generous	My horse, my horse, ha, ha, ha!
Witches	Ha, ha, ha! Exeunt
Robert	‘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. [He
	walks around the stage] ‘Horse, horse, see thou be,
	and 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, and yet my master will not believe
	there’s any witches. There’s no running away, for
	I neither know how nor whither. Besides, to my			40
	thinking there’s a deep ditch and a high quick-set
	about me.

	[Enter MISTRESS GENEROUS, MOLL,
	GILLIAN, MEG, MAWD, and BOY. A table
	holding the remains of a feast is brought in, and ropes
	hang from above]

	How shall I pass the time? [He peers around a
	stage-post] 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
	beldams did I never behold, and cramming like so
	many cormorants. Marry, choke you with a
	mischief!			50
Gillian	Whoop! Whurr! Here’s a stir,
	Never a cat, never a cur,
	But that we must have this demur.
Moll	A second course!
Mrs Generous	Pull, and pull hard,
	For all that hath lately been prepar’d
	[The witches pull on the ropes]
	For the great wedding feast.
Moll	As chief,
	Of Doughty’s sirloin of roast beef.
All the witches	Ha, ha, ha!
	[A joint of meat from above lands in a dish on the table]
Meg	’Tis come, ’tis come!			60
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 merchants’ cellars they shall pay for’t.
	[Bottles from above land on the table]
Mrs Generous	Well,
	What sod or roast meat more, pray tell?
Gillian	Pull for the poultry, fowl, and fish,
	For empty shall not be a dish.
	[More meats come from above]
Robert	[aside] A pox take them; must only they feed upon
	hot meat, and I upon nothing but cold salads?
Mrs Generous	This meat is tedious; now some fairy			70
	Fetch what belongs unto the dairy.
	[Plates and vessels come from above]
Moll	That’s butter, milk, whey, curds, and cheese;
	We nothing by the bargain leese.
All the witches	Ha, ha, ha!
Gillian	Boy, there’s meat for you.
Boy	Thank you.
Gillian	And drink, too.
Meg	What beast was by thee hither rid?
Mawd	A badger nab.
Meg	And I bestrid
	A porcupine that never prick’d.			80
Moll	The dull sides of a bear I kick’d.
	I know how you rid, Lady Nan.
Mrs Generous	Ha, ha, ha! Upon the knave my man.
Robert	[aside] A murrain take you; I am sure my hooves
	paid for’t.
Boy	[Putting down the food and drink given him] 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 the witches		Pull for the posset, pull!		90
Robert	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 Generous	So those that are our waiters near,
	Take hence this wedding cheer.
	We will be lively all, and make this barn our hall.

	[Enter several spirits who clear away the banquet]

Gillian	You, our familiars, come.
	In speech let all be dumb,
	And to close up our feast,
	To welcome every guest,			100
	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 [plays from above])
Moll	We are obey’d.
A spirit	And we hell’s ministers shall lend our aid.
	[Each witch dances with her familiar spirit, singing a
	song]
Mawd	Come Mawsy, come Puckling,
Moll	And come, my sweet suckling,
Meg	My pretty Mamilion, my joy.
All the witches	Fall each to his duggy,			110
	While kindly we huggy
	As tender as nurse over boy.
	Then suck our bloods freely
	And with it be jolly,
	While merrily we sing, hey trolly lolly.
Mawd	We’ll dandle and clip ye,
Moll	We’ll stroke ye, and leap ye,
Meg	And all that we have is your due.
All the witches	The feats you do for us,
	And those which you store us			120
	Withal, ties us only to you.
	Then suck our bloods freely
	And with it be jolly,
	While merrily we sing, hey trolly lolly.
	[While they sing, the BOY speaks]
Boy	[aside] 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 bride’s vex’d heart,
	The bridegroom’s too and all,			130
	That vomit up their gall
	For lack o’th’ wedding cheer.
Gillian	But stay, where’s the boy? Look out, if he escape
	us we are all betrayed.
	[The witches chase after the BOY, as far as the door]
Meg	No following further; yonder horsemen come. In
	vain is our pursuit. Let’s break up court.
Gillian	Where shall we next meet?
Mawd	At mill.
Meg	But when?
Mrs Generous	At night.
Meg	To horse, to horse! Where’s my Mamilion?
Mawd	And my incubus?
Gillian	My tiger to bestride?
Moll	My puggy?
Mrs Generous	My horse?
All the witches	Away, away!			140
	The night we have feasted, now comes on the day.

	ROBERT stands amazed [as MEG, MAWD,
	GILLIAN, and MOLL each mount a spirit]

Mrs Generous	[To ROBERT]
	Come, sirrah, stoop your head like a tame jade.
	Whilst I put on your bridle.
Robert	I pray, Mistress, ride me as you would be rid.
Mrs Generous	That’s at full speed.
Robert	[aside] Nay, then, I’ll try conclusions.
	[He snatches the bridle and puts on her]
	‘Mare, mare, see thou be,
	And where I point thee carry me.’
	A great noise within at their parting. Exeunt.

[4.2]
	Enter GENEROUS, making himself ready
	[for a journey]

Generous	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 –			10
	‘Distrust’? I cannot: that would bring me in
	The poor aspersion of fond jealousy,
	Which even from our first meeting I abhorr’d.
	The genteel 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,
	Ent’ring her chamber to bestow on her
	A custom’d visit, find the pillow swelled,			20
	Unbruis’d 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. [He calls] Robin!

	Enter ROBERT

Generous	Is my horse safe, lusty, and in good plight?
	What, feeds he well?
Robert	Yes, sir, he’s broad buttock’d
	And full flank’d; he doth not bate an ace of his flesh.		30
Generous	When was he rid last?
Robert	Not, sir, since you back’d him.
Generous	Sirrah, take heed I find you not a knave!
	Have you not lent him to your mistress late?
	So late as this last night?
Robert	Who, I, sir?
	May I die, sir, if you find me in a lie, sir!
Generous	Then I shall find him where I left him last?
Robert	No doubt, sir.
Generous	Give me the key o’th’ stable.
Robert	[He hands over the key] There, sir.
Generous	Sirrah, your mistress was abroad all night,
	Nor is she yet come home. If there I find him not,			40
	I shall find thee what to this present hour
	I never did suspect, and, I must tell thee,
	Will not be to thy profit. Exit
Robert	Well, sir, find what you can, him you shall find.
	And what you find else, it may be for 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,			50
	yet no more than I dare justify –

	Enter GENEROUS

	Have you found your gelding, sir?
Generous	Yes, I have.
Robert	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.
Generous	You’re 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 stranger’s jades?
Robert	I hope, sir, you find none feeding there but your			60
	own. If there be any you suspect, they have
	nothing to champ on but the bridle.
Generous	Sirrah, whose jade is that tied to the rack?
Robert	The mare you mean, sir?
Generous	Yes, that old mare.
Robert	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.
Generous	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,			70
	Persuade me to be a drunken sot
	Like to thyself, and not to know mine own.
Robert	I’ll not persuade you to anything. 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			80
	been ridden hard the last night, do you now
	renounce her?
Generous	Sirrah, I fear some stolen jade of your own
	That you would have me keep.
Robert	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.
Generous	The devil she did!
Robert	Yes, so I say, either the devil or she did. An’t
	please you walk in and take off her bridle, and			90
	then tell me who hath more right to her, you or I.
Generous	Well, Robert, for this once I’ll play the groom
	And do your office for you. Exit
Robert	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 GENEROUS and MISTRESS
	GENEROUS, he with a bridle

Generous	My blood is turn’d to ice, and all my vitals
	Have ceas’d their working! Dull stupidity			100
	Surpriseth me at once and hath arrested
	That vigorous agitation which till now
	Express’d 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 Generous	Sir –			110
Generous	Amazement still pursues me: how am I chang’d,
	Or brought ere I can understand myself
	Into this new world?
Robert	You will believe no witches?
Generous	This makes me believe all, ay anything,
	And that myself am nothing. Prithee, Robin,
	Lay me to myself open: what art thou,
	Or this new transform’d creature?
Robert	I am Robin, and this your wife, my mistress.
Generous	Tell me the Earth			120
	Shall leave its seat and mount to kiss the moon,
	Or that the moon, enamour’d 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?
Robert	A bridle, a jingling bridle, sir.
Generous	A bridle? Hence enchantment!
	[He] casts it away. ROBERT takes it up
	A viper were more safe within my hand
	Than this charm’d engine.			130
Robert	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.
	[To MISTRESS GENEROUS] Mistress, down
	on 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!
Generous	A witch? My wife a witch?
Robert	So it appears by the story.			140
Generous	The more I strive to unwind
	Myself from this meander, I the more
	Therein am intricated. Prithee, woman,
	Art thou a witch?
Mrs Generous	It cannot be denied,
	I am such a curs’d creature.
Generous	Keep aloof,
	And do not come too near me! Oh 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)			150
	And hath that serpent twin’d me so about
	That I must lie so often and so long
	With a devil in my bosom?
Mrs Generous	Pardon, sir –
Generous	‘Pardon’? Can such a thing as that be hop’d?
	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?			160
Mrs Generous	I am.
Generous	With that word I am thunderstuck
	And know not what to answer. Yet resolve me,
	Hast thou made any contract with that fiend,
	The enemy of mankind?
Mrs Generous	Oh, I have.
Generous	What, and how far?
Mrs Generous	I have promis’d him my soul.
Generous	Ten thousand times better thy body had
	Been promis’d to the stake, ay and mine too,
	To have suffer’d with thee in a hedge of flames,
	Than such a compact ever had been made. Oh –
Robert	What cheer, sir? Show yourself a man, though			170
	she appeared so late a beast. Mistress, confess all:
	better here than in a worse place. Out with it!
Generous	Resolve me, how far doth that contract stretch?
Mrs Generous	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.
Generous	Oh, cunning devil! Foolish woman, know
	Where he can claim but the least little part
	He will usurp the whole. Thou’rt a lost woman.
Mrs Generous	I hope not so.
Generous	Why, hast thou any hope?			180
Mrs Generous	Yes, sir, I have.
Generous	Make it appear to me.
Mrs Generous	I hope I never bargain’d for that fire
	Further than penitent tears have power to quench.
Generous	I would see some of them!
Mrs Generous	You behold them now,
	If you look on me with charitable eyes,
	Tinctur’d 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 err’d;			190
	From both I beg atonement.
Generous	May I presume’t?
Mrs Generous	I kneel to both your mercies. [She kneels, crying]
Generous	Know’st thou what a witch is?
Mrs Generous	Alas, none better,
	Or after mature recollection can be
	More sad to think on’t.
Generous	Tell me, are those tears
	As full of true-hearted penitence
	As mine of sorrow, to behold what state,
	What desperate state, thou’rt fall’n in?
Mrs Generous	Sir, they are.
Generous	Rise, and as I do, so heaven pardon me.
	We all offend, but from such falling off			200
	Defend us. [She rises] Well, I do remember wife,
	When I first took thee ’twas for good and bad.
	Oh, change thy bad to good that I may keep thee,
	As then we passed our faiths, till death us sever.
	I will not aggravate thy grief too much
	By needless iteration. Robin, hereafter
	Forget thou hast a tongue: if the least syllable
	Of what hath pass'd be rumour’d, you lose me,
	But if I find you faithful, you gain me ever.
Robert	A match, sir: you shall find me as mute as			210
	If I had the bridle still in my mouth.
Generous	Oh, 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 extermin’d
	Thyself out of the bless’d society
	Of saints and angels, but on thy repentance
	I take thee to my bosom, once again			220
	My wife, sister, and daughter.
	[To ROBERT] Saddle my gelding;
	Some business that may hold me for two days
	Calls me aside.
	[Exeunt GENEROUS and MISTRESS GENEROUS]
Robert	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 journey-man. To prevent which, the first
	thing I do shall be to burn the bridle, and then
	away with the witch. Exit

[4.3]
	Enter ARTHUR and DOUGHTY

Arthur	Sir, you have done a right noble courtesy, which
	deserves a memory as long as the name of
	friendship can bear mention.
Doughty	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

Bantam	Now, gentlemen, you seem very serious.
Arthur	’Tis true we are so, but you are welcome to the			10
	knowledge of our affairs.
Bantam	How does thine uncle and aunt, Gregory and his
	sister, the families of Seelys, agree yet? Can you
	tell?
Arthur	That is the business: the Seely household is
	divided now.
Bantam	How so, I pray?
Arthur	You know, and cannot but with pity know,
	Their miserable condition: how
	The good old couple were abus’d, and how			20
	The young abus’d 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 consider’d,
	This gentleman and myself have taken home,
	By fair entreaty, the old folks to his house,
	The young to mine, until some wholesome order			30
	By the judicious of the commonwealth
	Shall for their persons and estate be taken.
Bantam	But what becomes of Lawrence and his Parnell,
	The lusty couple? What do they now?
Doughty	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 to discharm them, no
	remedy can be found. I mean to lay the country			40
	for their hagships, and, if I can anticipate the
	purpose of their grand Master Devil, to confound
	’em before their lease be out. Be sure I’ll do’t.
(Cry within)	‘A skimmington, a skimmington, a skimmington!’
Doughty	What’s the matter now! Is hell broke loose?

	Enter SHAKESTONE

Arthur	Tom Shakestone! How now, canst tell the news?
Shakestone	The news? Ye hear it up i’th’air, do you not?
(Cry within)	‘A skimmington, a skimmington, a skimmington!’
Shakestone	Hark ye, do you not hear it? There’s a
	skimmington towards, gentlemen.			50
Doughty	Ware wedlock, ho!
Bantam	At whose suit, I prithee, is Don Skimmington
	come to town?
Shakestone	I’ll tell you, gentlemen. [To DOUGHTY and
	ARTHUR] Since you have taken home old Seely
	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.
Arthur	How, prithee?
Shakestone	The quarrel began, they say, upon the wedding			60
	night and in the bride bed.
Bantam	For want of bedstaves?
Shakestone	No, but a better implement, it seems, the
	bridegroom was unprovided of, a homely tale to
	tell.
Doughty	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.
Arthur	Is his haste to go to bed at afternoon come to this
	now?			70
Doughty	Witchery, witchery, more witchery! Still flat and
	plain witchery! Now do I think upon the cod-
	piece 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.
Arthur	A ligatory point.
Bantam	Alas, poor Lawrence.
Shakestone	[To DOUGHTY and ARTHUR] He’s coming to
	make his moan to you about it, and she, too. Since
	you have taken their masters and mistresses to			80
	your care, you must do them right too.
Doughty	Marry, but I’ll not undertake her at these years, if
	lusty Lawrence cannot do’t!
Bantam	But has she beaten him?
Shakestone	Grievously broke his head in I know not how
	many places, of which the hoydens have taken
	notice and will have a skimmington on horse-
	back presently. Look ye, here comes both plaintiff
	and defendant.

	Enter LAWRENCE AND PARNELL

Doughty	How now, Lawrence. What, hast thy wedlock			90
	brought thee already to thy night-cap?
Lawrence	Yea, God wot, sir. I were wedded but all too soon.
Parnell	Ha’ you reason to complain or I, trow you, Gaffer
	Do-Nought? Woe worth the day that ever I
	wedded a Do-Nought!
Arthur, Bantam,
& Shakestone	Nay, hold, Parnell, hold!
Doughty	We have heard enough of your valour already. We
	know you have beaten him; let that suffice.
Parnell	Were ever poor maiden betrayed as I were unto a
	swag-bellied churl, that cannot, aw, aw, that			100
	cannot –
Lawrence	What says she?
Doughty	I know not. She caterwauls, I think. Parnell, 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.
Parnell	What he were when he were a bachelor, I know
	better than the best maid i’th’ town. I would I had			110
	not.
Arthur, Bantam,
& Shakestone	Peace, Parnell!
Parnell	’Twere that that cozened me. He has not now as
	he had then!
Arthur, Bantam,
& Shakestone	Peace, good Parnell!
Parnell	For then he could, but now he cannot, he cannot.
Arthur, Bantam,
& Shakestone	Fie, Parnell, fie!
Parnell	I say again and again, he cannot, he cannot.
Arthur, Bantam,
& Shakestone	Alas, poor Parnell!
Parnell	I am not a bit the better for him sin’ we were			120
	wed. ([She] cries)
Doughty	Here’s good stuff for a jury of women to pass
	upon.
Arthur	But Parnell, why have you beaten him so
	grievously? What would you have him do in this
	case?
Doughty	[aside] He’s out of a doing case, it seems!
Parnell	Marry, sir, and beat him will I into his grave, or
	back to the priest, and be unwedded again, for I
	wi’ not be bound to lie with him, and live with			130
	him the life of an honest woman, for all the life’s
	good in Lancashire.
Doughty	‘An honest woman’, that’s a good mind, Parnell.
	What say you to this, Lawrence?
Lawrence	Keep her off o’ me, and I sha’ tell you. An she be
	by I am nobody. But keep her off and search me,
	let me be searched as never witch was searched,
	and find anything more or less upo’ me than a
	sufficient man should have, and let me be hanged
	by’t.			140
Arthur	Do you hear this, Parnell?
Parnell	Ah, liar, liar, de’il take the liar. Truss ye and hang
	ye!
Doughty	Alas, it is too plain: the poor fellow is bewitched.
	Here’s a plain maleficium versus hanc now.
Arthur	And so is she bewitched too into this immodesty.
Bantam	She would never talk so else.
Lawrence	I pray you, gi’ me the lere o’ that Latin, sir.
Doughty	The meaning is, you must get half a dozen
	bastards within this twelvemonth, and that will			150
	mend your next marriage.
Lawrence	An I thought it would ma’ Parnell love me, I’d be
	sure on’t and go about it now right.
Shakestone	You’re soon provided, it seems, for such a journey.
Doughty	Best tarry till thy head be whole, Lawrence.
Parnell	Nay, nay, nay, I’s quite casten away an’t I be
	unwedded again, and then I undertake to find
	three better husbands in a bean-cod.
Shakestone	Hark, gentlemen, the show is coming.
Arthur	What, shall we stay and see’t?			160
Bantam	Oh, by all means, gentlemen.
Doughty	’Tis best to have these away first.
Parnell	Nay, marry, sha’ you not sir! I hear you well
	enough, and I con the meaning o’ the show well
	enough. An I stay not the show and see not the
	show and ma’ one i’ the show, let me be hanged
	up for a show. I’ll ware them to mell or ma’ with a
	woman that mells or ma’s with a testril, a longie, a
	do-little losel that cannot, and if I skim not their
	skimmington’s coxcomb for’t, ma’ that warplin			170
	boggle me a week longer, and that’s a curse eno’
	for any wife, I trow.
Doughty	Agreed. Perhaps ’twill mend the sport.

	Enter [a] drum[mer] beating before a skimmington and
	his wife on a horse [followed by] diverse country rustics.
	As they pass, PARNELL pulls [the] skimmington off
	the horse and LAWRENCE [likewise the]
	skimmington’s wife, [and] they beat them. [The]
	drum[mer] beats [an] alarm [and the] horse comes
	away. The hoydens at first oppose the gentlemen, who
	draw [their swords, at which] the clowns vail bonnet.
	[They all] make a ring [while]PARNELL and [the]
	skim[mington] fight.
Doughty	Beat, drum, alarum! Enough, enough, here my
	masters! [PARNELL drops the skimmington]
	[To the RABBLE of hoydens] Now patch up your
	show if you can, and catch your horse again. And
	when you have done, drink that. [He gives them
	money]
Rabble	Thank your worship. Exeunt [with a] shout
Parnell	Let them, as they like this, gang a procession with			180
	their idol skimmington again.
Arthur	Parnell, thou didst bravely.
Parnell	I am sure I ha’ drawn blood o’ their idol.
Lawrence	And I think I tickled his wife.
Parnell	Yea, to be sure, you be one of the old ticklers!
	But with what, can you tell?
Lawrence	Yea, with her own ladle.
Parnell	Yea, marry, a ladle is something!
Doughty	Come, you have both done well. Go into my
	house, see your old master and mistress, while I			190
	travel a course to make ye all well again. I will now
	a-witch-hunting.
Parnell	No course for us but to be unwedded again.
Arthur, Bantam,
& Shakestone	We are for Whetstone and his aunt, you know.
Doughty	Farewell, farewell.

	Exeunt [DOUGHTY, PARNELL, and
	LAWRENCE through one door, and ARTHUR,
	BANTAM, and SHAKESTONE through the other]

[4.4]
	Enter MISTRESS GENEROUS and MOLL

Mrs Generous	Welcome, welcome, my girl. What, hath thy puggy
	Yet suck’d upon thy pretty duggy?
Moll	All’s well at home and abroad too.
	What e’er I bid my pug, he’ll do.
	You sent for me?
Mrs Generous	I did.
Moll	And why?
Mrs Generous	Wench, I’ll tell thee, thou and I
	Will walk a little. How doth Meg,
	And her Mamilion?
Moll	Of one leg
	She’s grown lame.
Mrs Generous	Because the beast
	Did miss us last Good Friday feast,	10
	I guessed as much.
Moll	But All Saints’ night
	She met, though she did halt downright.
Mrs Generous	Dickinson and Hargreave, prithee tell,
	How do they?
Moll	All about us well.
	But puggy whisper’d in mine ear
	That you of late were put in fear.
Mrs Generous	The slave, my man.
Moll	Who, Robin?
Mrs Generous	He,
Moll	My sweetheart?
Mrs Generous	Such a trick serv’d me.
Moll	About the bridle, now alack!
Mrs Generous	The villain brought me to the rack.	20
	Tied was I both to rack and manger.
Moll	But thence how ’scap’d you?
Mrs Generous	Without danger,
	I thank my spirit.
Moll	Ay, but then
	How pacified was your good man?
Mrs Generous	Some passionate words mix’d with forc’d tears
	Did so enchant his eyes and ears,
	I made my peace, with promise never
	To do the like. But once and ever
	A witch, thou knowst. Now, understand,
	New business we took in hand.	30
	My husband pack’d out of the town,
	Know that the house and all’s our own.

	Enter WHETSTONE

Whetstone	Naunt, is this your promise, Naunt? What, Moll!
	How dost thou, Moll? [To MISTRESS
	GENEROUS] You told me you would put a trick
	upon these gentlemen, whom you made me invite
	to supper, who abused and called me bastard.
	[aside to MOLL] And when shall I get one upon
	thee, my sweet rogue? – And that you would do I
	know not what, for you would not tell me what	40
	you would do. [aside to MOLL] And shall you and
	I never have any doing together? – Supper is done
	and the table ready to withdraw, and I am risen
	the earliest from the board, and yet for ought I can
	see I am never a whit the nearer.
	[aside to MOLL] What, not one kiss at parting, Moll?
Mrs Generous	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	50
	Than what this note directs thee.
	[She hands him a paper] Observe that,
	And trouble me no farther.
Whetstone	Very good!
	I like this beginning well, for where they slighted
	me before, they shall find me a man of note. Exit
Moll	Of this, the meaning?
Mrs Generous	Marry, lass,
	To bring a new conceit to pass.
	Thy spirit I must borrow more,
	To fill the number three or four,
	Whom we will use to no great harm,
	Only assist me with thy charm.	60
	This night we’ll celebrate to sport:
	’Tis all for mirth, we mean no hurt.
Moll	My spirit and myself command,
	Mamilion and the rest at hand
	Shall all assist.
Mrs Generous	Withdraw then quick,
	Now, gallants, there’s for you a trick. Exeunt

[4.5]
	Enter WHETSTONE, ARTHUR,
	SHAKESTONE [and] BANTAM

Whetstone	Here’s a more private room, gentlemen, free from
	the noise of the hall. Here we may talk, and throw
	the chamber out the casements. [He calls to servants
	within] Some wine and a short banquet!

	Enter [servants] with a banquet, wine, and two tapers

Whetstone	So now leave us. [Exit servants]
Arthur	We are much bound to you, Master Whetstone,
	For this great entertainment. I see you command
	The house in the absence of your uncle.
Whetstone	Yes, I thank my aunt, for though I be but a daily
	guest, yet I can be welcome to her at midnight.	10
Shakestone	How shall we pass the time?
Bantam	In some discourse.
Whetstone	But no such discourse as we had last, I beseech
	you.
Bantam	Now, Master Whetstone, you reflect on me.
	’Tis true, at our last meeting some few words
	Then passed my lips which I could wish forgot.
	I think I call’d you ‘bastard’.
Whetstone	I think so too.
	But what’s that amongst friends? For I would fain
	know which amongst you all knows his own
	father.	20
Bantam	You are merry with your friends, Master By-blow,
	and we are guests here in your uncle’s house and
	therefore privileged.

	Enter [unseen] MISTRESS GENEROUS, MOLL,
	and spirits

Whetstone	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?
Bantam	Why? Who shall show him?
Whetstone	That’s all one. If any man here desire it, let him
	but speak the word and ’tis sufficient.	30
Bantam	Why, I would see my father.
Mrs Generous	Strike! (Music [plays])

	Enter [a spirit like] a pedant dancing to the music. The
	strain done, he points at BANTAM and looks full in his
	face.

Whetstone	Do you know him that looks so full in your face?
Bantam	Yes, well: a pedant in my father’s house,
	Who, being young, taught me my A, B, C.
Whetstone	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,	40
	come, your heels and tail together, and kneel unto
	your own dear father.
Arthur, Shakestone
& Whetstone	Ha, ha, ha!
Bantam	I am abused!
Whetstone	Why laugh you, gentlemen? It may be more men’s
	cases than his or mine.
Bantam	To be thus jeer’d!
Arthur	Come, take it as a jest,
	For I presume ’twas meant no otherwise.
Whetstone	Would either of you two now see his father in
	earnest?	50
Shakestone	Yes, canst thou show me mine?
Mrs Generous	Strike! [Music plays]

	Enter [a spirit like] a nimble tailor, dancing. [The strain
	done, he points at SHAKESTONE and looks full in
	his face.]

Whetstone	He looks on you! Speak, do you know him?
Shakestone	Yes, he was my mother’s tailor. I remember him
	ever since I was a child.
Whetstone	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.	60
	Come down, come down, ask blessing of your dad.
Arthur &
Whetstone	Ha, ha, ha!
Bantam	This cannot be endur’d!
Arthur	It is plain witchcraft.
	Nay, since we all are bid unto one feast,
	Let’s fare alike: come, show me mine too.
Mrs Generous	Strike! [Music plays]

	Enter ROBERT with a switch and a curry-comb,
	[dancing. The strain done,] he points at ARTHUR
	[and looks full in his face].

Whetstone	He points at you.
Arthur	What then?
Whetstone	You know him?
Arthur	Yes,
	Robin, the groom belonging to this house.
Whetstone	And never served your father?
Arthur	In’s youth I think he did.	70
Whetstone	Who, when your supposed father had business at
	the Lord President’s court in York, stood for his
	attorney at home, and so it seems you were got by
	deputy. What, all amort? If you will have but a
	little patience, stay and you shall see mine, too.
	And know I show you him the rather,
	To find who hath the best man to his father.
Mrs Generous	Strike! [Music plays]

	Enter [a spirit like] a gallant, [dancing. The strain done,
	he points at WHETSTONE and looks full in his face.]

Whetstone	Now, gentlemen, make me your precedent.
	Learn your duties and do as I do. [He kneels to the	80
	spirit-as-gallant] A blessing, Dad.
Arthur	Come, come, let’s home. We’ll find some other time
	When to dispute of these things –
Whetstone	Nay, gentlemen, 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.
Shakestone	[Struggling to raise his arms] I fain would strike,	90
	but cannot.
Bantam	Some strange fate holds me.
Arthur	Here then all anger end.
	Let none be mad at what they cannot mend.

	[Exit ARTHUR, SHAKESTONE, BANTAM,
	and WHETSTONE]

Moll	Now say, what’s next?
Mrs Generous	I’th’ mill there lies
	A soldier yet with unscratch’d eyes.
	Summon the sisterhood together,
	For we with all our spirits will thither.
	And such a caterwauling keep,
	That he in vain shall think to sleep.
	Call Meg and Doll, Tib, Nab, and Jug,	100
	Let none appear without her pug.
	We’ll try our utmost art and skill,
	To fright the stout knave in the mill. Exeunt

ACT 5, SCENE 1

Enter DOUGHTY, MILLER, and BOY [wearing]

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. ’Zooks, did I ever think that a

godson of mine should have fought hand to fist

with the Devil!

Miller

He was ever an unhappy boy, sir, and like enough

to grow acquainted with him; and friends may fall

out sometimes.

Doughty

Thou art a dogged sire, and dost 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.

Miller

You were best take heed, though.

Doughty

I care not. Though we leave not above three

untainted women in the parish, we’ll do it.

Miller

Do what you please, sir, there’s the boy stout

enough to justify anything 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

anything, the damnable jades had so threatened

him. And as soon as ever he had told, he mended.

Doughty

’Tis well he did so. We will so swing them in two-

penny halters, boy!

Miller

For my part, I have no reason to hinder anything

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 astride, stark naked, atop of

my mill, a bitter cold night too. ’Twas daylight

before I was waked, and I durst never speak of it to

this hour, because I thought it impossible to be

believed.

Doughty

Villainous hags!

Miller

And all last summer, my wife could not make a bit

of butter.

Doughty

It would not come, would it?

Miller

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.

Doughty

Is’t possible?

Miller

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.

Doughty

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.

Miller

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.

Doughty

After you; I thank you, 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 dwelt, and what

my name was.

Doughty

Ah, rogue!

Boy

But it was in a quarrelsome way, whereupon I was

as stout, and asked him who made him an

examiner.

Doughty

Ah, good boy.

Miller

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.

Doughty

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.

Doughty

Oh, 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.

Doughty

A pox, but by his feet he may be the club-footed

horse-courser’s 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.

Miller

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 forty times,

and never durst tell anything, as I said, because the

hags had so threatened him, till in his sickness he

revealed it to his mother.

Doughty

And she told nobody but folks on’t. Well, gossip

Gritty, as thou art a miller and a close thief, now

100

let us keep it as close as we may till we take ’em

and see them handsomely hanged o’ the way. Ha,

my little cuff-devil, thou art a made man. Come,

away with me.

[Exit MILLER by one door and DOUGHTY and

BOY by the other]

[5.2]

Enter SOLDIER

Soldier

These two nights I have slept well and heard no noise

Of cats or rats. Most sure the fellow dreamt,

And scratch’d 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;

Then best lie down to sleep. Nay, rest by me

Good Morglay, my comrogue and bedfellow

That never fail’d me yet; I know thou didst not.

If I be wak’d, see thou be stirring too,

Then come a Gib as big as Askapart

We’ll make him play at leap-frog.

A brave soldier’s lodging:

The floor my bed, a millstone for my pillow,

The sails for curtains. So, good night. (Lies down)

Enter MISTRESS GENEROUS, MOLL,

GILLIAN, MEG, and MAWD, and their spirits, at

several doors

Mrs Generous

Is Nab come?

Moll

Yes

Mrs Generous

Where’s Jug?

Moll

On horseback yet.

Now lighting from her broomstaff.

Mrs Generous

But where’s Peg?

Moll

Enter’d the mill already.

Mrs Generous

Is he fast?

Moll

As senseless as a dormouse.

Mrs

Then to work,

To work, my pretty Laplands: pinch, here scratch,

Do that within, without we’ll keep the watch.

The witches [exeunt]. The spirits come about [the

SOLDIER] with a dreadful noise. He starts.

Soldier

Am I in hell? Then have amongst you, devils!

[He swings his sword at spirits surrounding him]

This side and that side! What, behind? Before?

I’ll keep my face unscratch’d despite you all.

[The spirits scratch and pinch him]

What, do you pinch in private? Claws I feel,

But can see nothing, nothing. Pinch me thus?

Have at you then, ay, and have at you still!

And still have at you!

[He] beats them off [and the spirits exeunt. He] follows

them in [to the tiring house] and enters again [with his

sword bloodied]

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

[5.3]

Enter GENEROUS and ROBERT

Generous

Robin, the last night that I lodg’d at home,

My wife, if thou remember’st, lay abroad,

But no words of that.

Robert

You have taught me silence.

Generous

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 rubb’d and dress’d;

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.

Robert

Sir, I shall.

Generous

But one thing more – ([He takes

ROBERT aside and] whispers [to him])

Enter ARTHUR

Arthur

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 vow’d revenge. I cannot be at peace,

The night-spell being took off, till I have met

With noble Master Generous, in whose search

The best part of this morning I have spent.

His wife now I suspect.

Robert

By your leave, sir.

Arthur

Oh, you’re well met! Pray tell me, how long is’t

Since you were first my father?

Robert

Be patient, I beseech you! [ARTHUR menaces

him] What do you mean, sir?

Arthur

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!

Robert

I, your father? He was a man I always loved and

honoured. He bred me.

Arthur

And you begot me! Oh, you us’d me

Finely last night!

Generous

Pray, what’s the matter, sir?

Arthur

My worthy friend, but that I honour you

As one to whom I am so much oblig’d,

This villain could not stir a foot from hence

Till perish’d by my sword.

Generous

How hath he wrong’d you?

Be of a milder temper, I entreat.

Relate what, and when done.

Arthur

You may command me.

If ask me what wrongs, know this groom pretends

He hath strumpeted my mother; if when: blaz’d

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.

Robert

I, do this?

I am a horse again, if I got you.

Master, why, master –

Generous

I know you, Master Arthur, for a gentleman

Of fair endowments, a most solid brain,

And settled understanding. Why, this fellow

These two day was scarce sunder’d from my side,

And for the last night, I am most assur’d

He slept within my chamber, twelve miles off.

We have ne’er parted since.

Arthur

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 lodg’d within my breast

Which I am loath to utter.

Generous

Keep it there,

I pray do, a season. [aside] Oh, my fears! –

No doubt ere long my tongue may be the key

To open that your secret.

[To ROBERT] Get you gone sir,

And do as I commanded.

Robert

I shall, sir.

[aside] ‘Father’, quoth he?

I should be proud indeed of such a son. Exit

Generous

Please you now walk with me to my mill. I fain

would see how my bold soldier speeds. It is a place

hath been much troubled. [They cross the stage]

Enter SOLDIER

Arthur

I shall wait on you. See, he appears.

Generous

Good morrow, soldier.

Soldier

A bad night I have had.

A murrain take your mill-sprites!

Generous

Prithee, tell me,

Hast thou been frighted, then?

Soldier

How, frighted, sir!

A dung-cart full of devils could not do’t,

But I have been so nipp’d, and pull’d, and pinch’d

By a company of hell-cats.

Arthur

Fairies, sure.

Soldier

Rather foul fiends; fairies have no such claws.

Yet I have kept my face whole thanks my scimitar,

My trusty bilbo, but for which I vow,

I had been torn to pieces. But I think

I met with some of them. One, I am sure,

I have sent limping hence.

Generous

Didst thou fasten upon any?

Soldier

Fast or loose, most sure I made them fly

And skip out of the port-holes. But the last

I made her squeak; she had forgot to mew;

I spoil’d her caterwauling.

Arthur

Let’s see thy sword.

Soldier

To look on, not to part with from my hand;

’Tis not the soldiers’ custom.

Arthur

Sir, I observe ’tis bloody towards the point.

Soldier

If all the rest ’scape scot-free, yet I am sure

There’s one hath paid the reckoning.

Generous

Look well about.

Perhaps there may be seen some tract of blood.

[They search and the SOLDIER] finds the hand

Soldier

What’s here? Is’t possible cats should have hands

And rings upon their fingers?

Arthur

Most prodigious!

Generous

Reach me that hand.

Soldier

There’s that of the three I can best spare. [He gives

the hand to GENEROUS]

Generous

[aside] Amazement upon wonder, can this be?

I needs must know’t by most infallible marks.

Is this the hand once plighted holy vows?

And this the ring that bound them? Doth this last age 100

Afford what former never durst believe?

Oh, how have I offended those high powers

That my great incredulity should merit

A punishment so grievous, and to happen

Under mine own roof, mine own bed, my bosom?

Arthur

Know you the hand sir?

Generous

Yes, and too well can read it.

Good Master Arthur, bear me company

Unto my house; in the society

Of good men there’s great solace.

Arthur

Sir, I’ll wait on you.

Generous

And soldier, do not leave me. Lock thy mill:

110

I have employment for thee.

Soldier

I shall, sir.

I think I have tickled some of your tenants

At will, that thought to revel here rent-free.

The best is, if one of the parties shall

Deny the deed, we have their hand to show. Exeunt

[5.4]

A bed thrust out [with] MISTRESS GENEROUS in

it. [Enter] WHETSTONE [and] MOLL [to stand]

by her

Whetstone

Why aunt, dear aunt, honey aunt, how do you?

How fare you, cheer you, how is’t with you? You

Have been been a lusty woman in your time,

But now you look as if you could not do

Withal.

Mrs Generous

Good Moll, let him not trouble me.

Moll

Fie, Master Whetstone, you keep such a noise

In the chamber that your aunt is desirous

To take a little rest and cannot.

Whetstone

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 Generous

Good nephew, leave me.

Whetstone

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? [aside] What know I but this

bed may prove your death-bed, 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 Generous

If it be so, excuse my weakness to him; say I can

speak with none.

Moll

I will, [aside] and ’scape him if I can. By this

accident all must come out, and here’s no stay for

me. – (Knock again) Again! [To WHETSTONE] Stay

you here with your aunt, and I’ll go let in your

uncle. [Exit]

Whetstone

Do, good Moll. And how, and how, sweet aunt?

Enter GENEROUS, MOLL, ARTHUR,

SOLDIER, and ROBERT

Generous

[To MOLL]

You’re well met here! I am told you oft frequent

This house as my wife’s choice companion.

Yet have I seldom seen you.

Moll

Pray, by your leave, sir,

Your wife is taken with a sudden qualm;

She hath sent me for a doctor.

Generous

But that labour

I’ll save you. Soldier, take her to your charge.

[SOLDIER seizes MOLL]

And now where’s this sick woman?

Whetstone

Oh, uncle, you come in good time! My aunt is so

suddenly taken as if she were ready to give up the spirit.

Generous

’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 Generous

Yes sir, but now desire no company.

Noise troubles me, and I would gladly sleep.

Generous

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 Generous

My hand, ’tis there.

[GENEROUS feels her pulse]

Generous

A dangerous sickness and, I fear’t, death.

’Tis odds you will not ’scape it. Take that back

And let me prove the t’other if perhaps

I there can find more comfort.

Mrs Generous

I pray excuse me.

Generous

I must not be denied. Sick folks are peevish

And must be o’errul’d, and so shall you.

Mrs Generous

Alas, I have not strength to lift it up.

Generous

If not thy hand, wife, show me but thy wrist,

[He shows her the hand found at the mill]

And see how this will match it. Here’s a testate

That cannot be outfac’d.

Mrs Generous

I am undone.

Whetstone

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.

Arthur

’Tis now apparent

How all the last night’s business came about.

In this my late suspicion is confirm’d.

Generous

My heart hath bled more for thy curs’d 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. [To ARTHUR] Oh, 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

[5.5]

Enter BANTAM and SHAKESTONE

Bantam

I’ll out o’ the country, and as soon live

In Lapland as Lancashire hereafter.

Shakestone

What, for a false illusive apparition?

I hope the devil is not able to

Persuade thee thou art a bastard?

Bantam

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.

Shakestone

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?

Bantam

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 [proper]

habits

Shakestone

See Lawrence and Parnell civilly accorded

Again, it seems, and accoutred as they

Were wont to be when they had their wits.

Lawrence

Blessed be the hour, I say my honey, my sweet

Poll, that’s I become thine again, and thou’s

become mine again. And may this one kiss ma’

us two become both one for ever and a day.

Parnell

Yea, marry, Loll, and thus should it be. There is

nought gotten by falling out; we mu’ fall in or we

get nought.

Bantam

The world’s well mended here; we cannot but

rejoice to see this, Lawrence.

Lawrence

And you been welcome to it, gentlemen.

Parnell

And we been glad we ha’ it for you.

Shakestone

And I protest I am glad to see it.

Parnell

And thus sha’ you see’t till our dying hour. We’ve

one love now for a lifetime. The devil sha’ not ha’

the power to put us to pieces again.

Bantam

Why, now all’s right, and straight, and as it should be.

Lawrence

Yea, marry, that is it. The good hour be blessed for

it, that put the wit into my head to have a mistrust

of that pestilent cod-piece point that the wicked

witch Moll Spencer ga’ me, ah woe worth her,

that were it that made all so nought

Bantam & Shakestone

Is’t possible?

Parnell

Yea, marry, it were an enchantment, and about an

hour since it come into our hearts to do, what you

think, and we did it!

Bantam

What, Parnell?

Parnell

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 live

thing in the fire, and it hopped and skipped and

wriggled and frisked in the fire, and crept about

like a worm in the fire, that it were work enough

for us both with all the chimney tools to keep it

into the fire, and it stinked in the fire, worsen than

any brimstone in the fire.

Bantam

This is wonderful as all the rest!

Lawrence

It would ha’ scared any that had their wits to ha’

seen’t, and we were mad only it were done.

Parnell

And this were not above an hour since, and you

cannot devise how we ha’ loved t’one t’other by

now. You would e’en bless yourselves to see’t.

Lawrence

Yea, and ha’ put on our working gear, to swink

and serve our master and mistress like unto

painful servants again, as we should.

Bantam

’Tis wondrous well.

Shakestone

And are they well again?

Parnell

Yea, and well as like hea’en bless them, they are

a-was well becomed as none ill had ever been

anenst ’em. Lo ye, lo ye, as they come.

Enter SEELY, JOAN, GREGORY, and WINNY

Gregory

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 forever crown your goodness, and

Instructive in my after life to serve you

In all the duties that befit a son.

Seely

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 poison’d by some violent infection,

Quite contrary to nature.

Bantam

This sounds well.

Seely

I fear it was by witchcraft, for I now –

Bless’d be the power that wrought the happy means

Of my delivery – remember that

Some three months since I cross’d a weird 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 mutter’d out these words: ‘Perhaps ere long

Thyself shalt be obedient to thy son.’

She has play’d her prank, it seems.

Gregory

Sir, I have heard

That witches apprehended under hands

Of lawful authority do lose their power,

And all their spells are instantly dissolv’d.

Seely

If it be so then at this happy hour

The witch is ta’en that over us had power.

100

[WINNY makes obeisance to JOAN]

Joan

Enough, child; thou art mine and all is well.

Winny

Long may you live the well-spring 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 friend’s house.

You know the unhappy cause that drew me hither.

Bantam

And cannot but rejoice to see the remedy

So near at hand.

Enter DOUGHTY, MILLER, and BOY

Doughty

Come, gossip; come, boy. Gentlemen, you are

come to the bravest discovery. Master Seely and

110

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! [He indicates the Seelys]

It seems their witch is one of ’em, and so they are

discharmed; they are all in officers’ hands and they

120

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 [to SEELY]

your nephew Arthur.

Bantam

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.

Shakestone

See, he comes.

130

Enter GENEROUS, MISTRESS GENEROUS,

ARTHUR, WHETSTONE, MOLL, SOLDIER,

and ROBERT

Seely

Oh, Master Generous, the noble favour you have

showed my nephew forever binds me to you.

Generous

I pitied then your misery, and now

Have nothing left but to bewail mine own

In this unhappy woman.

Seely

Good Mistress Generous –

Arthur

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,

140

he is a well-willer to the infernal science.

Generous

I utterly discard him in her blood,

And all the good that I intended him

I will confer on this [indicates Arthur] virtuous gentleman.

Whetstone

Well, sir, though you be no uncle, yet mine

Aunt’s mine aunt, and shall be to her dying day.

Doughty

And that will be about a day after next ’sizes, I take

it.

Enter [GILLIAN, MAWD, MEG], Constable, and

Officers

Oh, here comes more o’ your naunts: naunt

Dickinson and naunt Hargreave, ’od’s fish, and

150

your granny Johnson too! We want but a good fire

to entertain ’em.

Witches charm together

Arthur

See how they lay their heads together?

Gillian

No succour!

Mawd

No relief!

Meg

No comfort!

Mrs Generous, Moll,

Gillian, Mawd, & Meg

Mawsy, my Mawsy, gentle Mawsy, come!

Mawd

Come my sweet Puckling!

Meg

My Mamilion!

Arthur

What do they say?

Bantam

They call their spirits, I think.

Doughty

Now, a shame take you for a fardel of fools. Have

you known so many of the devil’s tricks and can

be ignorant of that common feat of the old juggler,

160

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 in spite 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.

Arthur

But gentlemen, shall we try if we can by

examination get from them something that may

170

abbreviate the cause unto the wiser in commission

for the peace before we carry them before ’em?

Generous & Seely

Let it be so.

Doughty

Well, say: stand out boy, stand out miller, stand

out Robin, stand out soldier, and lay your

accusation upon ’em.

Bantam

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

180

Robert

And so did I, by a devilish token. I was rid thither,

though I rid home again as fast without switch or

spur.

Miller

I was ill-handled by them in the mill.

Soldier

And I sliced off a cat’s foot there, that is since a

hand, whoever wants it. [Shows the hand]

Seely

How I and all my family have suffered, you all

know.

Lawrence

And how I were bewitched my Poll here knows.

Parnell

Yea, Loll, and [indicates MOLL] the witch I know,

190

and I prayen you gi’ me but leave to scratch her

well-favourly.

Bantam

Hold, Parnell.

Parnell

You can blame no honest woman, I trow,

To scratch for the thing she loves.

Moll

Ha, ha, ha!

Doughty

Do you laugh, gentlewoman? [To MISTRESS

GENEROUS] What say you to all these matters?

Mrs Generous

I will say nothing, but what you know, you know,

And as the law shall find me let it take me.

Gillian

And so say I!

Mawd

And I!

Moll

And I!

200

Other confession you get none from us.

Arthur

[To MEG] What say you, granny?

Meg

Mamilion, ho!

Mamilion, Mamilion!

Arthur

Who’s that you call?

Meg

My friend, my sweetheart, my Mamilion.

Mrs Generous,

Moll, Gillian, & Mawd

You are not mad?

Doughty

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. [aside] 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

210

witch?

[MISTRESS GENEROUS, MOLL, GILLIAN,

and MAWD] storm

Meg

’Tis folly to dissemble. Yea, sir, I am one.

Doughty

And that Mamilion which thou call’st upon

Is thy familiar devil, is’t not? Nay, prithee speak.

Meg

Yes, sir.

Doughty

That’s a good woman. How long hast

Had’s acquaintance, ha?

Meg

A matter of six years, sir.

Doughty

A pretty matter. What, was he like a man?

Meg

Yes, when I pleas’d.

Doughty

And then he lay with thee,

Did he not sometimes?

Meg

’Tis folly to dissemble:

Twice a week he never fail’d me.

Doughty

Hmm, and how,

220

And how a little? Was he a good bedfellow?

Meg

’Tis folly to speak worse of him than he is.

Doughty

Ay, trust me is’t. Give the devil his due.

Meg

He pleas’d me well, sir, like a proper man.

Doughty

There was sweet coupling?

Meg

Only his flesh felt cold.

Arthur

He wanted his great fires about him that

He has at home.

Doughty

Peace! And did he wear good clothes?

Meg

Gentleman like, but black, black points and all.

Doughty

Ay, very like his points were black enough. But

come, we’ll trifle wi’ ye no longer. Now shall you

230

all to the Justices, and let them take order with

you till the ’sizes, and then let law take his course,

and Vivat Rex! Master Generous, I am sorry for

your cause of sorrow; we shall not have your

company?

Generous

No, sir, my prayers for her soul’s recovery

Shall not be wanting to her, but mine eyes

Must never see her more.

Robert

Moll, adieu sweet Moll! Ride your next journey

with the company you have there.

240

Moll

Well, rogue, I may live to ride in a coach before I

come to the gallows yet.

Robert

[To MISTRESS GENEROUS] And mistress, the

horse that stays for you rides better with a halter

than your jingling bridle. Exit with GENEROUS

Doughty

Master Seely, I rejoice for your family’s atonement.

Seely

And I praise heaven for you that were the means

to it.

Doughty

[To the Constable and Officers] On afore, drovers,

with your untoward cattle.

250

Exit [Constable, Officers, MISTRESS

GENEROUS, MOLL, GILLIAN, MAWD, and

MEG] severally

Bantam

[To WHETSTONE] Why do not you follow,

Master By-blow? I thank your aunt for the trick

she would have fathered us withal.

Whetstone

Well, sir, mine aunt’s mine aunt, and for that trick

I will not leave her till I see her do a worse. Exit

Bantam

You’re a kind kinsman!

Exeunt. Flourish

FINIS

	[Enter 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 reveal’d. 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,	10
	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. [Exit]

	GLOSSARIAL NOTES

	In these notes the label ‘Barber’ indicates that a gloss derives from Thomas Heywood and Richard Brome, The Late Lancashire Witches edited by Laird H. Barber (New York: Garland, 1979).

	Dramatis Personae
3-4	SHAKESTONE & BANTAM The names of Arthur’s two friends indicate their youthful vigour. To ‘shake’ an animal is to worry it (OED shake v. 8c) and Shakestone’s prey is Whetstone. Shakestone's name also suggests genital waving (‘a testicle’ OED stone n. 11a). A bantam is a small aggressive cock.
8	ROBERT also called Robin, a diminutive or familiar version of the same name.

	Prologue
1	Corrantoes early newspapers, prohibited 1632-38, hence ‘failing’
1	*no foot-post late* no recent news
5	*ground the scene* set this play
	agitation preparation for performance
7	*fat jailor* apparently a topical reference, now unknown

	1.1
1-2	*Was ever crossed . . . in th’ height?* Was ever exciting sport so deprived of its climax?
20	matches of equal acuity
21	muse a gap in a fence or hedge
23	earth’d hidden in a hole
39	braver more impressive
	port manner of behaving
40	state financial prosperity
	unshaken steadfast
45	wind talk (to rhyme with ‘sinned’ not ‘bind’)
48	mess group
50	*coxcomb* fool (from the name of a professional fool’s cap)
54	out upon him an expression of disgust
69	lustick merry
70	froligozone frolicsome
82-83	I never heard . . . truth till now. Although Whetstone’s name evokes the punishment of liars (who had whetstones placed around their necks), and despite’s Arthur’s accusation here, Whetstone’s character develops as a simpleton, not a liar. Possibly Heywood and Brome had not settled this.
87	I think you are a witch conventional response to someone who has guessed one’s intentions
101	beldams mannish hags
108	By-blow a bastard (‘one who comes into the world by a side-stroke’ OED by-blow n. 3), hence in claiming this as his father’s family name Whetsone impugns his mother’s virtue
109-12	*you came in at the window . . . like my grandam’s cat, to leap over the hatch* stealthy methods of entry implying an illegitimate start in life (as the Bastard in Shakespeare’s King John puts it, ‘In at the window, or else o’er the hatch’ 1.1.171)
134	entire affectionately attach
138	surname By-blow is Whetstone’s sire-name from his father
139-41	noverint universi per praesentes the formulaic first words of a writ (‘let all men know by these presents’), from which noverint had come to mean a scrivener
142	As in praesenti ‘As in the present tense’, the beginning of a well-known Latin verse used as a mnemonic for verse forms, and here with a possible pun on asinine
146	Accidence the first part of a Latin grammar book, dealing with inflections (‘accidents’) of word
	Mentiri nonest meum ‘it is not for me to lie’ (Latin)
149	Ignaro ignorant
153	strain characteristic way of behaving
224	one slips no advantages one who misses no opportunities for gain

	[1.2]
59	look off on’t look away from it
87	at the ale at the alehouse
87-88	a fourpenny club Seely’s portion of a shared bill
91	tester a teston, worth sixpence
96	double ringed tokens privately issued tokens worth a farthing, hence Seely’s loss was just two pence (Barber)
	rubbers best of three sets (or five, seven, etc.)
113-14	what the foul evil equivalent to ‘what the devil?’
119	weary o’ the womb of him tired of being inside him
124-25	telling him his own telling him some home truths
127	carl a base fellow, a churl
128-29	He served you but well to baste ye for’t You deserve to be beaten for it
130-31	but an I fall foul with ye, and I swaddle ye not savourly but if you incur my displeasure and I do not beat you soundly
131	brast burst
136	trow suppose/think
146	law in Lancashire Lancashire kept its own legal system until the middle of the nineteenth century
149	Daughter, I say – Joan is interrupted by Winny, who then misinterprets these first three words as an answer.
153	take such courses behave in such a way
163	the Scottish weird sisters the three witches in Shakespeare’s Macbeth (so named at 1.3.30, 2.1.19, 3.4.132, and 4.1.152)
164	hiccup ‘A spasmodic affection of some other organ [than the diaphragm]’ (OED hiccup n. b, citing this usage). Her allusion to Shakespeare’s Macbeth seems to increase the intensity of the spell working upon Winny: her vision is disturbed and she explicitly swaps roles with her mother. The greening of Winny’s vision might be an allusion to green-sickness, an adolescent anaemia thought to be caused by sexual longing, hence Joan’s song on the theme of unwanted pregnancy.
166	white girl darling daughter (apparently invented here by analogy with OED white boy 1)
170	deft handsome
171	langtidown dilly a meaningless refrain
179	fadge proceed
187	list like
189	lessen unless
190	with a wanion with a vengeance (OED wanion)
201-202			You shall as soon . . . in the mouth with There’s nothing you can do to shut me up with
203			shoen shoes
204			sicky suchlike (OED sic-like)
206-207			ween ’a’ we would have
207	Wot’st thou what? what do you know?
209	the fond waxen wild, trow I the affectionate turned aggressive, I suppose (referring to Lawrence’s harsh words to her)
211-12	our love shall be at an end our courtship must end (because we shall marry), with unintentional comic suggest of loveless marriage
213	mu’ must (Q’s ‘mun’ carries overtones of may)
214	limmer loon mad rogue
215	trow think
218	sickerly with certainty
	jam abuse
220	flam mock
235	i’fackins i’ faith (a mild oath)
238	bespeak arrange for
240	’pparelments equipment and fittings (OED apparelment) and not confined to apparel
241	trickly Neatly, smartly

	2.1
0 SD	severally one by one but not necessarily from different directions
4 SP	Meg. Four witches are called for in the opening stage direction but only three are named in the scene (Meg, Mawd, and Gillian). The fourth (whom the audience would not have seen before in any case) may be Mistress Generous or Moll; possibly this matter was not settled in the manuscript. Q’s repeated speech prefix for Meg is clearly wrong, and it is easier to imagine this as a compositorial misreading of ‘Moll’ than of ‘Mrs Generous’ or ‘Goody Dickinson’.
11	It is possible that ‘Mawd’ was a speech prefix which the printer, mistaking its terminal period for a comma, misread as part of Gillian’s line. Weighing against this interpretation, however, is the printed line’s consistency with the iambic tetrameters that surround it.
13	puggy an affectionate form of pug meaning a small demon (also spelt puck)
15	meat nourishment, not confined to animal flesh
17	a round ‘a dance in which the performers move in a circle or ring’ (OED round n¹ 11a)
18	cockle a weed with black seeds which thrives in wheat fields (OED cockle n¹) or a similar looking disease of wheat caused by worms (OED cockle n⁷), or possibly, by confusion, both
	darnel another weed common in corn fields
	poppia a dialect name for the cockle weed (OED poppy n. 2)
21	our masque the dance the witches have just completed
54	wat hare (OED wat²)
63	The devil on Dun the devil on horseback, from ‘Dun’, a quasi-proper name for any horse
69	Peg a pet form of Margaret, as is Meg
	grizzled grey coloured (the hare will have fur the colour of Meg’s hair)
70	gaunt thin gut as befits a greyhound

	[2.2]
47	bait ‘To set on dogs to bite and worry’ (OED baite v² 2)
51	relieve feed (Barber)
52	course ‘a race of dogs (after a hare, etc.)’ (OED course n. 7a)
54-59	’Tis said hares . . . Pliny lies too In Naturalis Historia Book 8 Pliny attributes this idea to Archelaus (Barber)
56-57	that which begets this year brings young ones the next the male begeter becomes female
66	Robin a familiar form of his proper name, Robert
119	tester a teston, worth sixpence
147	Ipsitate Barber suggests ‘perhaps a superlative of Latin ipse meaning "the very thing," "Mere quintessence of wine."’ (as Generous called it at line 139)
154-55	be with thee to bring be with you to achieve a determined result. Here the sense is sexual but other outcomes may be implied by ‘to bring’.
166	country native region (OED country 4), here Yorkshire (see line 179)
168	in that name pretending to be a soldier
172	Polack a native of Poland, used (like ‘Russian’) to mean the nation
178	What countryman? Of where are you a countryman (native)?
196	Q's reading of grinding ‘flesh’ to powder is absurd, and the obvious intended opposition is ‘flesh’ and ‘bones’.
198	cat o’ mountains a large feline animal such as leopard, panther, or tiger
199	in red-and-white a variation on the figurative ‘in black-and-white’ (writing) also meaning ‘attested by indisputable evidence’, his bloodied flesh
214	fitters fragments
238	stand it all danger withstand it whatever the dangers

	[2.3]
0 SD	switch ‘a thin flexible shoot cut from a tree’ (OED switch n. 2a)
1	bullace wild plums
3	coursing chasing hares with dogs
5.1 SD				invisible how this was indicated to the audience (costume?, demeanour?) is uncertain
				John Adson musician and composer (1587-1640), a specialist in wind instruments and masque music. Adson’s ‘new airs’ are mentioned in 4.1 of Cavendish’s The Country Captain, another King’s men play.
5.1-2 SD				a brace of greyhounds Gillian and her Puckling in the guise of dogs, as promised at 2.1.56-7
8	slips quick-release leashes arranged to free two dogs at once when coursing (OED slip n³ 3a)

	[2.4]
1	piece a gold sovereign coin, worth 11 shillings (OED piece n 13b). This sense Whetstone seems not to know (see lines 9-10) and is teased for it.
2	pied of more than one colour
11	double rings see note to 1.2.96
13	take on accept the bet
14	cover these match these coins with your own
24	More than . . . fall of leaf suggesting that Whetstone is losing hair, a sign of venereal disease. There follows a series of sexual puns on hare and pubic hair.
28	birds’ nests women’s pubic hair. The Nurse makes the same joke in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet 2.4.74.
32	angle fishing hook, and by extension the line and rod also
	angle...line...hare possibly sexual puns on female pubic delta (angle), penis (line), and pubic hair (hare)
47	off the score ‘break out suddenly into impetuous speech or action’ (OED score 3b)
50-52	thine ears . . . lost them by scribbling the punishment for seditious writing was the cropping of an ear, as happened to William Prynne for his Histriomastix (1633)
53	Bullfinch an attractive bird easily trained for singing (hence Whetstone will ‘sing’, complain, to his aunt and uncle)
56	I am a bastard Like Shakespeare’s Dogberry, Whetstone makes the comic error of repeating an insult (‘I am an ass’, Much Ado About Nothing 4.2.74 and 5.1.248)
58-59	good old gentleman that is, Generous
59	baffled disgraced
63	law ‘An allowance in time or distance made to an animal that is to be hunted’ (OED law n¹ 20a)

	[2.5]
1	Halloo a cry to excite dogs
3	lither ‘lazy, sluggish, spiritless’ (OED lither a.)
4	tykes low-bred, coarse, dogs
5	with a wanion with a vengeance (OED wanion)
11-12	not lash . . . switch will hold a moderate, not a thorough, lashing with merely a switch (see 2.3.0n). The first ‘lash’ might also carry the punning senses of ‘rebuke’ (OED lash v.¹ 6c) or ‘comb’ (OED lash v.³).
15 SD	Gillian was the witch who said she would become a greyhound (2.1.56-57), and appears to be the character Q hereafter identifies as Goody Dickinson. Q’s direction indicates the ‘disappearing’ part of the magical transformation (the dogs exit) but leaves no clue how the ‘appearing’ was managed.
19	gammer ‘A rustic title for an old woman’ (OED). The Boy says ‘my gammer’ (a corruption of ‘grandmother’) because small communities use kin terms even where no biological connection is implied.
42	la ‘An exclamation formerly used to introduce or accompany a conventional phrase or an address, or to call attention to an emphatic statement’ (OED la int.). In Shakespeare The Merry Wives of Windsor Slender uses a similar construction: ‘You do yourself wrong, indeed, la’ (1.1.292-3).
50 SD	The simplest staging of the transformation of the demon-child into a white horse is a mere report of it happening off stage.

	[2.6]
7	Cut ‘A familiar expression for a common or labouring horse’ (OED cut n² 29)
10	curry-comb time ] the early morning rubbing down (currying) of a horse with a comb
15-16	the divinity of the Mitre the fine wine of The Mitre tavern in London
18	a puritan . . . the Mitre the tavern’s name comes from the headgear of a bishop, reviled by puritans for its sumptuousness
19	Robert Moll uses the proper name to sound formal and reproving
21-22	an be ruled if you’ll be ruled
27	because so that
34	fit punish (OED fit v¹ 12)
48	Light like ’Slight, an abbreviation of God’s light, a mild oath
49	all the milk shall all the milk which shall
51	the proverb of the bishop’s foot a pot of burnt food was said to have had the bishop’s foot in it (Barber)
59	trussed ‘Knit together, compactly framed or formed’ (OED trussed ppla. 1b)
65	look your horse look for your horse
67	Stand up! a cry to urge on a horse (OED stand v. 103h)

	3.1
2	break the cake over the bride’s head a Northern wedding tradition (Barber)
5	lost the church missed the church ceremony
9	frolic frolicsome
	crank high-spirited
19	brag cheerful
	carries it promotes it
25	ring backwards from bass to treble, usually reserved for an emergency warning (Barber)
26	I’fack I’faith, a mild oath
28	merry conceit of the stretch-ropes Seely interprets the emergency signal as the bell-ringers’ joke about the enormous fire in his kitchen (which is cooking the feast)
36	fare be entertained with food (OED fare v¹ 8)
37	cate delicacy
40	’Slid abbreviation of God’s lid, a mild oath
45 SD	the battle apparently a musical style used to represent or accompany fighting. That the instruments need not be noisy is indicated by the opening direction of Marston’s Antonio and Mellida ‘The cornets sound a battle within’
46 SD	The spirit cannot be seen by the guests, hence their amazement
55-56	woe worth it a curse on it (OED woe int. 4a)
60	Pax Latin for peace, hence ‘be quiet’
61	law-day day of meeting of court of law, used by vaguely-aggrieved Gregory to mean ‘day for settling scores’
64	warrant protect
74	country native region, here Lancashire
82	The dresser calls in A servant signals that the food is ready by knocking upon the table (the ‘dresser’) from which it is served.
	fare be entertained with food (OED fare v¹ 8)
86	messes groups of persons sitting together and served from the same dishes. Here each mess is ten persons, hence the large quantities.
92	Florentines a kind of pie or tart, possibly of meat
98	doubler a large plate or dish
107	’Zooks short for gadzooks, a mild oath
124	humble-bees bumble-bees (an alternative name)
125	Jew’s-ears An edible fungus growing on the roots and trunks of trees
126	puckfists puff-balls, a fungus with ball-shaped spore cases
	cow-shards cow-pats (solidified puddles of dung)
139	borne carried (that is, out of the house because drunk)
165	cheer provisions (OED cheer n1 6a)
	deceptio visus deceptive spectacle
165-66	the former store has ’scaped ’em the food set aside earlier is unaffected
167	good ’em do good to them

	[3.2]
9	forgi’ forgive
11-12	to his . . . in a day apparently a topical allusion, now lost
22	’a’ ha’ (meaning, ‘have’)
29	that you might so that you might
58	considered paid (OED consider v. 8)
64	acquittance receipt for the repayment of a debt
67-69	lose it . . . find it . . . conceal it an archaic form of the subjunctive mood equivalent to ‘have lost it . . . have found it . . . concealed it’
73-74	nettled . . . nettled irritated . . . aroused (OED nettle v. 2 and 3)
75	raw-boned having projecting bones
78	rank riding reckless fast riding of a horse (OED rank a. 3b), with connotation of sexual ‘riding’ via ‘ramp rider’ (OED ramp a.) and ‘lustful, licentious; in heat’ (OED rank a. 13)
82	’Sfoot shortened form of God’s foot, a mild oath
94	case physical condition (OED case n¹ 5b)

	[3.3]
27	husbandman farmer
39	baffle disgrace
57	’Zooks short for gadzooks, a mild oath
60	a fly touched it if Moll’s intention was to trivialize what he saw, the association of flies with the devil ironically heightens Doughty’s suspicion
62	blast blight (OED blast v. 8a)
64 SD	Sellenger’s Round music to a popular country dance, also known as ‘The Beginning of the World’. The music is reproduced in William Chappell, Popular Music of the Olden Time (New York: Dover, 1965) 1:69-71.
67	family of love alluding to a reactionary Dutch religious sect of that name, popular in England, which advocated absolute obedience to established authorities
78	spin two-penny tow the kind of processing of flax which might be done in a workhouse, hence a strong threat (Barber)
96	sorrel sops pieces of bread soaked in a sauce made from sorrel, a sour herb
100	stomach lustful desire (OED stomach n. 1g, 5b)
102	a-good heartily
108	‘The Beginning of the World’ another name for ‘Sellenger’s Round’; see 3.3.64 SDn above.
114	‘The Running o’ the Country’ ‘presumably one of the old dance tunes’ (Barber)
123	point a lace for the tying together parts of clothing (such as a doublet and breeches) where buttons would now be used (OED point n¹ B5). Like a button, a point could stand for something of little value, hence Lawrence and Doughty think Moll is making a joke, lines 126 and 133.
135	when all your points are ta’en away ‘At the end of a wedding day the bridegroom’s friends undressed him and took away his points by way of preparing him for the bride’ (Barber)
136	slops wide loose trousers (OED slop n¹ 4)
142	I’s never be jealous the more for that I shall never be more jealous for that reason
157	scuffling for the Tutbury bull alluding to a minstrels’ sport in Tutbury on the Staffordshire/Derbyshire border in which one team tried to drive a bull across the river Dove and the other team tried to prevent it (Barber)
170	hornpipe a vigorous dance to the accompaniment of a wind instrument
	posset a hot drink of milk, liquor and spice, often drunk before retiring
187	trim elegantly dressed
192	what’s here to do? what’s the matter here? (OED do v. 33)

	4.1
15-17	how damnably . . . rid now last night’s ‘riding’ was with Moll, and now the sexual connotation is less pleasing to Robert
19	Gramercy thanks
21	Aesop’s ass allusion to the story of an ass who, although carrying food, eat whatever grew along his way
24	Cut ‘A familiar expression for a common or labouring horse’ (OED cut n² 29)
26	tail vagina
28	cheer provisions (OED cheer n1 6a)
35-36	‘Horse, horse . . . carry me’ the spell Mistress Generous used when first bridling him at 3.2.103-104
42-43	deep ditch . . quick-set the edge of the stage treated as a ditch, and the standing audience as a hedge made from plant cuttings (OED quickset n.1)
48	beldams mannish hags
	cramming eating greedily (OED cram v. 2b)
53	demur delay (between courses)
57	As chief most important of all (chiefly)
65	sod boiled (OED sod ppla.)
73	leese lose
78	nab not in OED; apparently a familiar spirit (Barber)
82	Nan grandmother, a familiar form of address of an older women by an unrelated younger women. Both women have ‘ridden’ Robert.
91-93	if they . . . presently if they are about to have liquid food (spoon-meat) they probably are nearly finished their feast
95	cheer provisions (OED cheer n1 6a)
107-24	In Q this song is printed at the end of the play (on L4r) under the label ‘Song. II. Act.’, although this location in Act Four seems to need it more. Lines have been assigned to particular witches according to the names of the familiar spirits where mentioned.
111	huggy hug ye
120	store provide for
126	shift for myself look out for my own interests (OED shift v. 7a)
138 SP	Where’s my Mamilion assigned to ‘2.’ in Q, but Meg called her familiar this name at 2.1.13
139 SP	And my incubus assigned to ‘1.’ in Q
	My tiger to be bestrid assigned to ‘3.’ in Q
145	try conclusions see which of us is the stronger (OED conclusion n. 8b)

	[4.2]
15	sunder beds sleep separately
28	plight condition (OED plight n.² 5)
30	bate an ace lose a jot (OED ace n. 3b)
33	late lately
46	gramercy thanks
49-50	tied to . . . confess something Robert, having overpowered her since the end of 4.1, has bridled Mistress Generous (which turned her into a horse) and tied her in the stables. Here he likens her state to one tied to the rack of torture, as witches might be.
53	spurred pricked by spurs
55	sore travailed worked hard
76	currying the grooming of a horse with a comb
79	caparisons ornamented cloths worn by a horse
114	believe no witches believe there are no witches
127	Although Q’s reading juggling (meaning ‘that which is part of a deception’) would be an appropriate adjective here, Mrs Generous makes clear that the bridle jingles at 4.1.1.
130	engine device, with strong connotations of ‘snare’ (OED engine n. 3 and 5c)
134	If not a misprint, Q’s reading ‘of’ is an archaism (OED of prep. 55a)
142	meander bewilderingly complicated situation (OED meander n. 2c)
143	intricated entangled
148	chary careful
156	Lift up . . . yon hills ‘a reference to Psalm 121:1 "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help"’ (Barber)
158	horrid dwelling whatever earthly benefit she got by her dealing with the devil
167	promis’d to the stake burning at the stake was a continental punishment for witchcraft, while in England hanging was used. Generous is not quite making sense, since the punishment follows discovery of the compact and cannot be a substitute for it
173	how far doth that contract stretch? what have you signed away?
175	his part that made it God’s part
183	penitent tears have power to quench the power of sincere repentance was denied by extreme Protestantism. Lancashire, however, was still a centre of Catholic dissent
191	presume’t take upon myself the authority to forgive her
199	as I do . . . pardon me as I pardon you, so heaven pardon me for presuming to do this (see line 191)
204	passed mutually interchanged (OED pass v. 9)
215	Too little all our combined tears are insufficient
221	My wife, sister, and daughter as all things to me
227	journey-man means of travel, with a pun on journeyman meaning a qualified tradesman working for daily pay (as opposed to being a master)

	[4.3]
5	bouncing bragging (OED bouncing vbl. n. 3, with this example)
24	disposers managers of their own affairs
26	to thrust them out on’t to throw them (the Seelys) out of the house
30-31	some wholesome . . . the commonwealth legal proceedings to take protective control of the Seelys’ property during their temporary insanity
35	as far to seek of no nearer knowing
40	lay search (OED lay v.¹ 18c)
41-43	the purpose . . . lease be out ‘. . . in some cases, the devil set a definite time when he would come and fetch the witch who had dedicated herself to him’ (Barber)
44	skimmington a parodic procession led by impersonators or mannequins of a married couple intended to mock their domestic strife
51	Ware wedlock, ho! look out, here comes wedlock! (OED ware v. 3). Shakespeare’s Thersites uses the same construction: ‘The bull has the game. Ware horns, ho!’ (Troilus and Cressida 5.8.3-4)
62	want of bedstaves? because broken by the couple’s vigorous lovemaking, a typical crudity concerning newlyweds
63	better implement an erect penis to consummate the marriage
64	a homely tale plain truth
66	greedy worm passionate desire (OED worm n. 11c)
68	mickle great
76	ligatory binding. ‘Impotence was often blamed on witches, and "ligation" (binding) was the technical term for this activity’ (Barber)
82	undertake deal with (with connotation of ‘have sex with’)
86	hoydens ill-mannered, low-class boors
92	wot knows
93	trow think
93-94	Gaffer Do-Nought Mister Do-Nothing. Gaffer was usually a title respectful of age and/or seniority
94	woe worth a curse on (OED woe int. 4a)
100	swag-bellied paunchy
102 SP	The answer to this question is provided in language that suits Doughty, so (contrary to Q’s reading) the questioner should be someone else. Lawrence perhaps stands apart from the trio Arthur, Bantam, and Shakestone comforting Parnell.
113	cozened deceived
122	jury of women such juries examine the bodies of women claiming non-consummation of marriage and women accused of witchcraft (See Diane Purkiss The Witch in History, London 1996, pp. 231-49)
125-26	in this case under these circumstances, but also punning on ‘case’ as vagina. Although unrecorded by OED, Shakespeare commonly used this slang, eg Mistress Quickly’s ‘Vengeance of Jenny’s case! Fir on her!’ Merry Wives of Windsor 4.1.56
127	out of a doing case unfit for sexual ‘doing’
133	mind intention (OED mind n.¹ 10)
145	maleficium versus hanc ‘A curse upon . . .’, the legal term for magic causing impotence
148	lere knowledge
153	now right right now
156	casten cast
	an’t if not
158	bean-cod bean-pod
164	con understand
165	stay remain during
167	ware teach them to beware (OED ware v.¹ 5, with this example)
	mell or ma’ meddle (OED mell v.² 8b)
168	testril a teston, worth sixpence
	longie ‘a lout . . . see the OED entry under "lungis" whose variant "longis" is suggested here as the basis of Parnell’s word longie’ (Barber)
169	losel good-for-nothing
170	ma’ may or make, either fits the sense
	warplin ‘new-born thing . . . ie Lawrence impotent as a baby’ (Barber)
171	boggle fumble with
172	trow think
173.1-2 SD					skimmington and his wife these appear to be mannequins; see note to line 44 above
173.2 SD					country rustics peasants
173.6 SD					alarm a sound make to call men to arms
173.7 SD					hoydens ill-mannered, low-class boors
173.8 SD					vail bonnet take of their head-wear to show submission and deference (OED bonnet n. 1a)
180	this the beating
	gang walk
185	you . . . ticklers! alluding again to Lawrence’s impotence: he can only tickle a woman
187	ladle the OED etymology suggests that skimmington might derive from a wife’s beating of her husband with her skimming ladle

	[4.4]
12	halt hobble
	downright entirely
21	rack and manger ‘a play on the phrase "to lie at rack and manger" which meant "to live in luxury"’ (Barber)
33	Naunt my aunt (shortened from ‘mine aunt’)
43	table table guests

	[4.5]
3	chamber chamber-pot, or more precisely the urine in it
4	short banquet dessert of sweets and fruit (OED banquet n.¹ 3)
18	fain gladly
29	all one originally ‘not a matter of choice’, but here in the derived sense of ‘does not matter’ (OED all C adv. 5)
32.1 SD			pedant child’s tutor
32.2 SD			strain melody (OED strain n.² 13)
36	In his . . . your father In the house of him (your mother’s husband) who is thought to be your father. The pedant was ‘in his house’ in several senses: taking his place, intruding into his bloodline (the house of Bantam), and, possibly, occupying his wife’s vagina (OED house n.¹ 7c)
38	Nise prius Latin for ‘Unless previously’, the first words of a writ served on a sheriff to further a legal case at the county assizes.
39	’sizes assizes, county courts of civil and criminal justice
41	tail bottom
48			otherwise other way
66.1 SD			switch ‘a thin flexible shoot cut from a tree’ (OED switch n. 2a)
	curry-comb instrument for rubbing down a horse
72	Lord President’s court in York The king’s deputy ruling the six northern counties (Barber)
72-73	stood for his attorney took his place as though his agent
74	amort still, as though dead
86	By-blows bastards
89	health a drink in honour of good health (OED health n. 6)
90	fain gladly
101	pug puck, a small demon

	5.1
1	country native region (OED country 4), here Lancashire
4	’Zooks short for gadzooks, a mild oath
10	dogged having the bad qualities of a dog
12	worry seize by the throat
17	stout brave and resolute
35-36	could not make a bit of butter witches were commonly blamed when cream could not be churned into butter. Shakespeare’s Robin Goodfellow (a puck) is said to ‘bootless make the breathless housewife churn’ (A Midsummer Night’s Dream, 2.1.37)
41	gear foul stuff (OED gear n. 10)
45	wry twisted
52	for me on my behalf
58	After you Doughty accepts being a kind of second father to the boy
	Gossip godparent
61	dog-tricks treacherous, spiteful acts
	horse-tricks using people and animals like horses
86	but by except that he is distinguishable by
87	horse-corser dealer in horses. Like modern used-car sellers, these were proverbial deceitful.
99	folks relatives
100	Gritty millers were often suspected of adulterating flour with cheap materials, which would make the end products taste gritty
	close secret (OED close adj. A7)
103	cuff-devil devil thumper

	[5.2]
10	Morglay name of the sword owned by mythical hero Sir Bevis of Hampton
	comrogue fellow rogue
13	Gib familiar name for a male cat
	Askapart name of the giant killed by Sir Bevis (see note to line 10)
15	brave fine, describing the lodging, not the soldier
17.3 SD			several separate, not necessarily more than two
22			Laplands Lapland was the fabled home of witches
23.2 SD			starts leaps up suddenly
30	have at you cry to accompany a strike (as with ‘take that!’)
32	light on landed a blow on (OED light v.¹ 10a)

	[5.3]
27	mere complete and unaided (OED mere adj. A 2, 4)
40	blaz’d proclaimed (OED blaze v.² 2)
49	sunder’d parted
66	fain gladly
71	murrain pestilence
78	bilbo a high quality sword, named after Bilbao, Spain, where they were made
83	Fast or loose an old confidence trick game in which a seemingly knotted cord is freed from a stick. The Soldier claims a small success against the equally ‘slippery’ spirits.
90	scot-free without paying a ‘reckoning’ (scot)
92	tract trace (OED tract n.³ 11)
100	last age period before the end of time, which Christian mythology predicted would be a time of miracles (benign and evil)
103	my great incredulity refusal to believe in witchcraft
106	Know you . . . read it hand could also mean handwriting, and since the amputated hand informs Generous about its owner, he takes the enquiry thus.
112-13	tenants at will tenants without security of tenure, liable to be evicted anytime at the owner’s will
113	rent-free without paying rent, but also possibly punning on ‘rent’ meaning ‘gash’ or ‘cut’
115	hand as in line 106, this puns on the meaning ‘handwriting’

	[5.4]
14	sic is ‘so’ As in 1.1, Whetstone shows basic Latin knowledge
24	stay support (OED stay n.²) , with pun on ‘place of sojourn’ (OED stay n.³ 6b)
32	qualm sickness
40	shrewd severe
45	their beating ‘. . . pulse was ‘formerly sometimes misconstrued as a plural"’ (Barber)
49	prove test (OED prove v. 1a)
55	testate witness (OED testate n. B1)
57	handy-dandy children’s game of guessing which of two closed fists contains a small object
70	inundant overflowing

	[5.5]
1	country native region (OED country 4), here Lancashire
2	Lapland the fabled home of witches (as at 5.2.22)
9	taken a course instigated a pursuit (OED course n. 7a)
17	quean whore
18 SD	This and Shakestone’s ensuing comment indicate that, no longer bewitched, the servants are again appropriately dressed. Q’s ‘first habits’ is misleading since at their first entrance Lawrence and Parnell were already bewitched.
40-41	Q’s reading of ‘witched worch’ might mean ‘bewitched pain’ (OED wark n.¹), but the context seems to demand something more simple.
41	woe worth a curse on (OED woe int. 4a)
42	made all so nought made everything (his penis) so useless
45	to do what to do
59	only only until
63	swink toil
65	painful painstaking (OED painful a. 5)
67	hea’en heaven
67-68	are a-was have become (Barber)
69	anenst among/against (OED anent prep. 8)
78	instructive (a son) apt to be instructed
91	untoward unruly
110	bravest finest (OED brave a. 3)
119	their witch the one that bewitched them
127-28	saving his land . . . your distraction Seely was too busy with his own problems to help Arthur about this mortgage, as described at 1.1.242-69
137	make sides divide yourselves into two parties: the witches and their enemies
147	’sizes assizes, county courts of civil and criminal justice
149	Naunt my aunt (shortened from ‘mine aunt’)
150	’od’s fish God’s fish, a rare oath
158	fardel pack
165	bugs-words frightening speeches
166	for from (OED for prep. 23d)
171-72	wiser in commission for the peace the Justices of the Peace (inferior magistrates) who are ‘in commission’ in the sense of appointed for the purpose
182	switch ‘a thin flexible shoot cut from a tree’ (OED switch n. 2a), which could be used as a horsewhip
198	what you know, you know Shakespeare’s Iago says the same thing in almost identical circumstances (Othello 5.2.309)
205	You are not mad? Are you mad? (for confessing)
208	dandle play with like a baby
211.2 SD				storm struggle violently against their restraint
216	Had’s Had his
229	like likely (OED like adj. 8)
232	’sizes assizes, county courts of civil and criminal justice
232	Vivat Rex! long live the king!
246	atonement mutual reconciliation (OED atonement n. 1, 2)
249	on afore go ahead
	drovers drivers of cattle to market
250	untoward unruly
250.3 SD		severally one by one but not necessarily from different directions

SYNOPSIS

The action of the play takes places in Lancashire, mostly at the homes of two squires, Seely and Generous. The first scene has three young ‘blades’, Arthur, Bantam, and Shakestone, debating the mysterious, perhaps supernatural, disappearance of a hare they were hunting. They are joined by Whetstone, a fool whom ‘all the brave blades of the country use to whet their wits upon’. The young men are heading to sample the renowned hospitality of Master Generous, Whetstone’s uncle, who has agreed to save Arthur from losing his lands to a usurious mortgagor. Ordinarily Arthur’s uncle, Seely, might be expected to help, but Seely’s household is in turmoil because all respect and deference has broken down. Seely’s son Gregory and daughter Winny insult and bully their parents, and are in turn insulted and bullied by their respective servants Lawrence and Parnell. Thus newly raised in status, Lawrence and Parnell are able to marry at their former masters’ expense, and the first act ends with the planning of celebrations for this event.

The second act begins with the villains of the piece, four witches, exulting at their success in bewitching the Seelys and planning further mischief. By changing themselves into greyhounds and leading the other dogs astray they plan to ruin the young men’s hare-hunting. Generous bids farewell to his young guests, risen early for another day’s recreation, and finds that his wife too has left the house on horseback. After instructing this groom Robert to deny her the horse next time, and to fetch wine from Lancaster, Generous is visited by a soldier who begs to be given work. His timing is perfect, for the man Generous has hired to run his mill resigns complaining of attacks at night by fierce cats. The soldier gladly takes the miller’s place.

A truant schoolboy, bored of gorging on fruit, finds two greyhounds and leads them off in hope of a reward from their owner, while Bantam and Shakestone mock Whetstone’s irritating stupidity despite their promise to tolerate him for the sake of Arthur’s new relationship with Whetstone’s uncle, Generous. The boy re-enters with the two greyhounds and begins to beat them for failing to chase a hare, when the dogs are suddenly transformed into a witch and her demon-child. The boy is bridled and kidnapped, to be taken to the witches’ feast.

On his way to Lancaster, Generous’s groom Robert stops off at the home of his sweetheart Moll, who offers to fly him to London and back overnight to fetch the wine his master prefers. Having seen her make her broom and pail move unaided, Robert agrees.

Act three begins with Seely and his wife Joan preparing the feast on the day of Lawrence and Parnell’s marriage, which descends into farce as an unseen spirit transforms the food into stones, cowpats, and live animals. Unexpectedly Gregory and Winny are restored to their former obedience to their parents, so the remaining guests decide to stay and enjoy what food is left. At the Generous home, Robert has returned from London with the wine his master wanted, and proof that he has made the 300 mile journey overnight. Puzzled, Generous exits and Robert worries he will be punished for revealing what must be witchcraft. Mistress Generous asks Robert for her horse and, as instructed, Robert denies her. Infuriated, she bridles him and leads him off like a horse. Back at the wedding feast all seems well, although Seely and Joan fall out while their children display proper obedience. The spell on the Seely household has changed, not ended, and the musicians at the wedding find their instruments will yield no sound. Even sceptical Doughty concludes that witches are at work.

The reason the food disappeared from the wedding feast is apparent at the start of act four: it was needed for a secret witch-feast at a barn. One witch arrives there by badger, another arrives by bear, and Mistress Generous arrives on back of the groom Robert, who is tied up outside but peeps in to see the witches cavort with their familiar spirits. Spotting his chance, the boy the witches kidnapped escapes and the witches break up their celebrations to pursue him. Generous’s suspicions are by now highly aroused, and on her return home Mistress Generous is forced to admit her pact with the devil, for which he forgives her upon a solemn promise to reform. With chaos still reigning in the Seely household, Doughty takes in the parents while Arthur takes in the children. Their servants are no better off. Parnell wants to annul the marriage because formerly lusty Lawrence is impotent since tying his codpiece with a charm given him by Moll, and the villagers are quick to perform a ritual mockery of the unhappy couple. Still galled by the insults of the young blades, Whetstone is assisted by his aunt, Mistress Generous, in achieving revenge by showing them their ‘true’ fathers, in each case a family servant.

At the mill the soldier is kept from sleeping by cat-like spirits, one of whom, Mistress Generous, loses a hand to the soldier’s trusty Spanish sword. Thus forced to take to her bed, Mistress Generous cannot conceal her stump from her husband, who also has the cut-off member recovered from the mill. It is obvious that her repentance and reformation were feigned. Once convinced that witchcraft is about, Doughty acts quickly to capture the women responsible, at which point their charms fail. Lawrence is restored to vigour, he and Parnell to amity, and Mistress Generous is given over to the constable leading the other witches to the Lancaster assizes. In a final desperate effort the witches call unavailingly on their familiar spirits, and one breaks down and confesses her crime. Whetstone decides to stay with his aunt despite her crimes and is disinherited by Generous in favour of Arthur. The play ends with the witches led away to the indeterminate fate that was, at the time the play was first performed, the sensational news of London.

TEXTUAL NOTES

The play was first printed in a quarto of 1634 and the control text for the present edition is one of the two British Library copies of this quarto (shelfmark C.34.c.54). In keeping with Globe Quartos editorial criteria, no attempt was made to collate variation between early copies. James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps published an edition of the play in 1853 and R. H. Shepherd included it in his dramatic works of Heywood in 1874, but neither provided notes or a modernized text. Laird H. Barber’s edition of 1979 (New York, Garland) provided a facsimile and a transcription of the 1634 quarto with extensive notes, but the present edition is the first in modern spelling.

The necessary modernization of the barely-comprehensible dialect of Parnell and Lawrence has greatly reduced their regional distinctiveness. The effort to retain something of their difference,and the treatment of terminal n in their speeches require special comment. Their dialect puts n sound at the end of verbs, so that must or may becomes mun, shall becomes shan, and have becomes han. In this edition these have been elided to ma’, sha’, and ha’. Other verbs they end with -en on the Old English model, so casten is their past tense of cast. Where misunderstanding is likely these have been modernized. Thus shoulden and woulden have been changed to should and would to avoid confusion with shouldn’t and wouldn’t.

The following abbreviations are used in the collation:

Halliwell-Phillipps a reading from James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps’s 1853 edition

Shepherd a reading from R. H. Shepherd’s 1874 edition

(Barber) a suggestion made in Laird H. Barber’s 1979 edition

this edn a reading originating in this edition

1.1
226	think ] Halliwell-Phillipps; rhinke Q
253	been ] Shepherd; hin Q
271	you ] Halliwell-Phillipps; yon Q

[1.2]
5	conjure ] Shepherd; conure Q
26	transgress ] Shepherd; trangress Q
152	warrants ] Halliwell-Phillipps; warrant Q
215	brains ] Halliwell-Phillipps; braincs Q

2.1
4 SP	Moll ] this edn; Meg. Q
12 SP	Mawd ] this edn; not in Q

[2.2]
31	like ] Shepherd; likes Q
37 SP	Arthur ] Halliwell-Phillipps; Gener. Q.
196	bones ] Halliwell-Phillipps; flesh Q

[2.3]
5.1 SD				John ] this edn; J. Q
19 SD				Exeunt ] this edn; Exit. Q

[2.4]
63 SD				Exeunt ] this edn; Exit. Q

[2.5]
15.1 SD				GILLIAN ] this edn; Gooddy Q.
15.2-3 SD				a small . . . greyhounds ] this edn; the Boy upon the dogs, going in. Q
50				what’s ] this edn; wher’s Q

3.1
34 SD	Enter . . . WHETSTONE] this edn; Enter Musitians, Lawrence, Parnell, Win. Mal. Spencer, two Country Lasses, Doughty, Greg. Arthur, Shakton, Bantam, and Whetstone. Q
46 SD	Enter a spirit above ] this edn; The Spirit appeares. Q
81 SD	Knocking . . . dresser ] this edn; Knock within, as at dresser. Q
93 SD	Enter fiddlers . . . they enter ] this edn; Enter Musitians playing before, Lawrence, Doughty, Arthur, Shakton, Bantam, Whetstone, and Gregory, with dishes: A Spirit (over the doore) does some action to the dishes as they enter. Q

[3.3]
34	in ] Shepherd; is Q
103 SD		Fiddlers . . . tune ] this edn; Musicke. Selengers round. As they beginne to daunce, they play another tune, then fall into many. Q
108 SD		The . . . tune ] this edn; Musicke. Every one a severall tune. Q

4.1
106 SD			Each . . . song ] this edn; Dance and Song together. In the time of which the Boy speaks. Q
141 SD			ROBERT . . . spirit ] this edn; Robin stands amaz’d at this Q

[4.2]
99	all my ] this edn; my all Q
127	jingling ] this edn; jugling Q
134	on ] this edn; of Q
199	me ] Q; thee (Barber)

[4.3]
102 SP	Lawrence ] this edn; Dou. Q

[4.5]
43 SP	Arthur, Shakestone, and Whetstone ] this edn; All. Q
52 SD	Enter . . . face. ] this edn; Enter a nimble Taylor dauncing, using the same posture to Shakstone. Q
62 SP	Arthur and Whetstone ] this edn; All Q
66 SD	Enter . . . face. ] this edn; Enter Robin with a switch and a Currycomb, he points at Arthur. Q
78 SD	Enter . . . face. ] this edn; Enter a Gallant, as before to him. Q
82 SP	Arthur ] this edn; Whet. Q

5.1
52 SP	Miller ] Halliwell-Phillipps; not in Q
58	you ] Shepherd; yon Q

[5.2]
17 SD	Enter . . . doors ] this edn; Enter Mrs. Generous, Mall, all the Witches and their spirits (at severall dores.) Q
23 SD	The . . . starts ] this edn; The Witches retire: the Spirits come about him with a dreadfull noise: he starts. Q
30 SD	He . . . bloodied ] this edn; Beates them off, followes them in, and Enters againe. Q

[5.3]
92 SD	They . . . hand ] this edn; Lookes about and findes the hand. Q

[5.5]
18 SD	proper ] this edn; first Q
40-41	wicked witch ] this edn; witched worch Q
148	Enter GILLIAN, MAWD, MEG, Constable, and Officers ] this edn; Enter Witches, Constable, and Officers. Q
211 SD		MISTRESS GENEROUS, MOLL, GILLIAN, and MAWD storm ] this edn; They storme. Q
250 SD		Exit Constable, Officers, MISTRESS GENEROUS, MOLL, GILLIAN, MAWD, and MEG severally ] this edn; Exeunt severally Q

[FACSIMILE OF 1634 QUARTO FIRST TEXT PAGE]

APPENDIX 1

The following is an extract from a letter from Nathaniel Tomkyns to Sir Robert Phelips of 16 August 1634. It was published by Herbert Berry in Shakespeare's Playhouses (New York: AMS Press, 1987) pp. 123-4, and is presented here in modernized spelling.

Here hath been lately a new comedy at the Globe called The Witches of Lancashire, acted by reason of the great concourse of people three days together. The third day I went with a friend to see it, and found a greater appearance of fine folk, gentlemen and gentlewomen, than I thought had been in town in the vacation. The subject was of the slights and passages done or supposed to be done by these witches sent from thence hither, and other witches and other witches and their familiars. Of their nightly meetings in several places, their banqueting with all sorts of meat and drink conveyed unto them by their familiars upon the pulling of a cord, the walking of pails of milk by themselves and (as they say of children) alone, the transforming of men and women into the shapes of several creatures and especially of horses by putting an enchanted bridle into their mouths, their posting to and from places far distant in an incredible short time, the cutting off a witch (= gentlewoman’s) hand in the form of a cat by a soldier turned miller, known to her husband by a ring thereon (the only tragical part of the story), the representing of wrong and putative fathers in the shape of mean persons to gentlemen by way of derision, the tying of a knot at a marriage (after the French manner) to cease masculine ability, and the conveying away of the good cheer and bringing in a mock feast of bones and stones instead thereof and the filling of pies with living birds and young cats etcetera. And though there be not in it, to my understanding, any poetical genius, or art, or language, or judgement to state or tenet of witches (which I expected) or application to virtue, but full of ribaldry and of things improbable and impossible, yet in respect of the newness and the subject (the witches being still visible and in prison here) and in regard it consisteth from the beginning to the end of odd passages and fopperies to provoke laughter, and is mixed with diverse songs and dances, it passeth for a merry and excellent new play.

APPENDIX 2

The dramatists appear to have had access to witness statements taken in connection with the case of the Pendle witches. The most illuminating statement is that of Edmund Robinson which was published in John Webster, The Displaying of Supposed Witchcraft (London, 1677). This material is clearly the source for 2.3, 2.5, 4.1, and 5.1 and the miller’s boy in the play corresponds to the real Edmund Robinson. In the following extract from Webster’s book (sigs. Yy2r-Yy3r) the spelling and dating has been modernized.

The examination of Edmund Robinson, son of Edmund Robinson of Pendle Forest, eleven years of age, taken at Padham before Richard Shuttleworth and John Starkey Esquires, two of his majesty’s justices of the peace within the county of Lancaster, the 10th day of February 1634.

Who upon oath informeth, being examined concerning the great meeting of the witches of Pendle, saith that upon All Saint’s day last past he, this informer, being with one Henry Parker, a near-door neighbour to him in Wheatley Lane, desired the said Parker to give him leave to gather some bullace, which he did. In gathering whereof he saw two greyhounds, viz a black and a brown. One came running over the next field towards him; he verily thinking the one of them to be Master Nutter’s, and the other to be Master Robinson’s, the said gentlemen then having such like. And saith, the said greyhounds came to him and fawned on him, they having about their necks either of them a collar unto each of which was tied a string, which collars (as this informer affirmeth) did shine like gold. And he thinking that some either of Master Nutter’s or Master Robinson’s family should have followed them, yet seeing nobody to follow them, he took the same greyhounds thinking to course with them.

And presently a hare did rise very near before him, at the sight whereof he cried ‘Loo, loo, loo’ but the dogs would not run. Whereupon he, being very angry, took them and with the strings that were about their collars tied them to a little bush at the next hedge, and with a switch that he had in his hand he beat them. And instead of the black greyhound one Dickinson’s wife stood up, a neighbour whom this informer knoweth, and instead of the brown one, a little boy, whom this informer knoweth not. At which sight this informer, being afraid, endeavoured to run away. But being stayed by the woman (viz. by Dickinson’s wife), she put her hand into her pocket and pulled forth a piece of silver much like to a fair shilling and offered to give him it to hold his tongue and not to tell, which he refused saying ‘Nay, thou art a witch!’ Whereupon, she put her hand into her pocket again and pulled out a thing like unto a bridle that jingled, which she put on the little boy’s head; which said boy stood up in the likeness of a white horse and in the brown greyhound’s stead.

Then immediately Dickinson’s wife took this informer before her upon the said horse and carried him to a new house called Hoarstones being about a quarter of a mile off. Whither, when they were come, there were diverse persons about the door, and he saw diverse others riding on horses of several colours towards the said house, who tied their horses to a hedge near to the said house. Which persons went into the said house, to the number of three-score or thereabouts, as this informer thinketh, where they had a fire and meat roasting in the said house. Whereof a young woman, whom this informer knoweth not, gave him flesh and bread upon a trencher and drink in a glass, which after the first taste he refused and would have no more but said it was naught.

And presently after, seeing diverse of the said company going into a barn near adjoining, he followed after them and there he saw six of them kneeling and pulling, all six of them, six several ropes which were fastened or tied to the top of the barn. Presently after which pulling there came into this informer’s sight flesh smoking, butter in lumps, and milk, as it were flying from the said ropes. All which fell into basins which were placed under the said ropes. And after that these six had done, there came other six which did so likewise. And during all the time of their several pulling they made such ugly faces as scared this informer, so that he was glad to run out and steal homewards. Who, immediately finding they wanted one that was in their company, some of them ran after him near to a place in a highway called Boggard Hole, where he (this informer) meet two horsemen, at the sight whereof the said persons left off following him. But the foremost of those persons that followed him he knew to be one Loind’s wife, which said wife together with one Dickinson’s wife and one Janet Davies he hath seen since at several times times in a croft or close adjoining to his father’s house, which put him in great fear.

And further, this informer saith, upon Thursday after New Year’s Day last past, he saw the said Loind’s wife sitting upon a cross-piece of wood being within the chimney of his father’s dwelling house and he, calling to her, said ‘Come down thou, Loind’s wife!’ And immediately the said Loind’s wife went up out of his sight. And further this informer saith that after he was come from the company aforesaid to his father’s house, being towards evening, his father bade him go and fetch home two cows to seal [‘fasten in their stalls’ OED seal v.²]. And in the way, in a field called the Ellers, he chanced to hap upon a boy who began to quarrel with him, and they fought together till the informer had his ears and face made up very bloody by fighting, and looking down he saw the boy had a cloven foot. At which sight he, being greatly affrighted, came away from him to seek the cows. And in the way he saw a light, like to a lantern, towards which he made haste, supposing it to be carried by some of Master Robinson’s people. But when he came to the place he only found a woman standing on a bridge, whom when he saw he knew her to be Loind’s wife. And, knowing her, he turned back again and immediately he met with the aforesaid boy from whom he offered to run, which boy gave him a blow on the back that made him to cry.

And further this informer saith that when he was in the barn he saw three women take six pictures from off the beam, in which pictures were many thorns or such-like things sticked in them. And that Loind’s wife took one of the pictures down, but the other two women that took down the rest he knoweth not. And being further asked what persons were at the aforesaid meeting, he nominated these persons following, viz. Dickinson’s wife, Henry Priestley’s wife and his lad, Alice Hargreave (widow), Janet Davies, William Davies, and the wife of Henry Facks and her sons John and Miles, the wife of Dennery’s, James Hargreave of Marstead, Loind’s wife, one James’s wife, Saunders’s wife and Saunders himself sicut credit, one Lawrence’s wife, one Saunder Pinn’s wife of Barraford, one Holgate and his wife of Leonards of the West Close.