Note 56 — INTRODUCTION.

Heywood and Broome, in their play, "The late Lancashire Witches," 1634, 4to, follow the terms of this deposition very closely. It is very probable that they had seen and conversed with the boy, to whom, when taken up to London, there was a great resort of company. The Lancashire dialect, as given in this play, and by no means unfaithfully, was perhaps derived from conversations with some of the actors in this drama of real life, a drama quite as extraordinary as any that Heywood's imagination ever bodied forth from the world of fiction.

"Enter Boy with a switch.

Boy. Now I have gathered Bullies, and fild my bellie pretty well, i'le goe see some sport. There are gentlemen coursing in the medow hard by; and 'tis a game that I love better than going to Schoole ten to one.

Enter an invisible spirit. J. Adson[D] 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 Collers and slippes about their neckes. Now I looke better upon them, me thinks I should know them, and so I do: these are Mr. Robinsons dogges, that dwels some two miles off, i'le take them up, and lead them home to their master; it may be something in my way, for he is as liberall a gentleman, as any is in our countrie, Come Hector, come. Now if I c'ud but start a Hare by the way, kill her, and carry her home to my supper, I should thinke I had made a better afternoones worke of it than gathering of bullies. Come poore curres along with me.

Exit."

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"Enter Boy with the Greyhounds.

A Hare, a Hare, halloe, halloe, the Divell take these curres, will they not stir, halloe, halloe, there, there, there, what are they growne so lither and so lazie? Are Mr. Robinsons dogges turn'd tykes with a wanion? the Hare is yet in sight, halloe, halloe, mary hang you for a couple of mungrils (if you were worth hanging,) and have you serv'd me thus? nay then ile 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, and though not lash you, yet lash you whilest my switch will hold, nay since you have left your speed, ile see if I can put spirit into you, and put you in remembrance what halloe, halloe meanes.

As he beats them, there appeared before him Gooddy Dickison, and the Boy upon the dogs, going in.

Now blesse me heaven, one of the Greyhounds turn'd into a woman, the other into a boy! The lad I never saw before, but her I know well; it is my gammer Dickison.

G. Dick. Sirah, you have serv'd me well to swindge me thus. You yong rogue, you have vs'd me like a dog.

Boy. When you had put your self into a dogs skin, I pray how c'ud I help it; but gammer are not you a Witch? if you bee, I beg upon my knees you will not hurt me.

Dickis. Stand up my boie, for thou shalt have no harme, Be silent, speake of nothing thou hast seene. And here's a shilling for thee.

Boy. Ile have none of your money, gammer, because you are a Witch; and now she is out of her foure leg'd shape, ile see if with my two legs I can out-run her.

Dickis. Nay sirra, though you be yong, and I old, you are not so nimble, nor I so lame, but I can overtake you.

Boy. But Gammer what do you meane to do with me Now you have me?

Dickis. To hugge thee, stroke thee, and embrace thee thus, And teach thee twentie thousand prety things, So thou tell no tales; and boy this night Thou must along with me to a brave feast.

Boy. Not I gammer indeed la, I dare not stay out late, My father is a fell man, and if I bee out long, will both chide and beat me.

Dickis. Not sirra, then perforce thou shalt along, This bridle helps me still at need, And shall provide us of a steed. Now sirra, take your shape and be Prepar'd to hurrie him and me.

Exit.

Now looke and tell mee wher's the lad become.

Boy. The boy is vanisht, and I can see nothing in his stead But a white horse readie sadled and bridled.

Dickis. And thats the horse we must bestride, On which both thou and I must ride, Thou boy before and I behinde, The earth we tread not, but the winde, For we must progresse through the aire, And I will bring thee to such fare As thou ne're saw'st, up and away, For now no longer we can stay.

She catches him up, and turning round.

Boy. Help, help.

Exit."

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"Rob. What place is this? it looks like an old barne: ile peep in at some cranny or other, and try if I can see what they are doing. Such a bevy of beldames did I never behold; and cramming like so many Cormorants: Marry choke you with a mischiefe.

Gooddy Dickison. Whoope, whurre, heres a sturre, Never a cat, never a curre, But that we must have this demurre.

Mal. A second course.

Mrs. Gen. Pull, and pull hard For all that hath lately him prepar'd For the great wedding feast.

Mall. As chiefe Of Doughtyes Surloine of rost Beefe.

All. Ha, ha, ha.

Meg. 'Tis come, 'tis come.

Mawd. Where hath it all this while beene?

Meg. Some Delay hath kept it, now 'tis here, For bottles next of wine and beere, The Merchants cellers they shall pay for't.

Mrs. Gener. Well, What sod or rost meat more, pray tell.

Good. Dick. Pul for the Poultry, Foule, and Fish, For emptie shall not be a dish.

Robin. A pox take them, must only they feed upon hot meat, and I upon nothing but cold sallads.

Mrs. Gener. This meat is tedious, now some Farie, Fetch what belongs unto the Dairie,

Mal. Thats Butter, Milk, Whey, Curds and Cheese, Wee nothing by the bargaine leese.

All. Ha, ha, ha.

Goody Dickison. Boy, theres meat for you.

Boy. Thanke you.

Gooddy Dickis. And drinke too.

Meg. What Beast was by thee hither rid?

Mawd. A Badger nab.

Meg. And I bestrid A Porcupine that never prickt.

Mal. The dull sides of a Beare I kickt. I know how you rid, Lady Nan.

Mrs. Gen. Ha, ha, ha, upon the knave my man.

Rob. A murrein take you, I am sure my hoofes payd for't.

Boy. Meat lie there, for thou hast no taste, and drinke there, for thou hast no relish, for in neither of them is there either salt or savour.

All. Pull for the posset, pull.

Robin. The brides posset on my life, nay if they come to their spoone meat once, I hope theil breake up their feast presently.

Mrs. Gen. So those that are our waiters nere, Take hence this Wedding cheere. We will be lively all, And make this barn our hall.

Gooddy Dick. You our Familiers, come. In speech let all be dumbe, And to close up our Feast, To welcome every gest A merry round let's daunce.

Meg. Some Musicke then ith aire Whilest thus by paire and paire, We nimbly foot it; strike.

Musick.

Mal. We are obeyd.

Sprite. And we hels ministers shall lend our aid.

Dance and Song together. In the time of which the Boy speakes.

Boy. Now whilest they are in their jollitie, and do not mind me, ile steale away, and shift for my selfe, though I lose my life for't.

Exit."

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"Dought. He came to thee like a Boy thou sayest, about thine own bignesse?

Boy. Yes Sir, and he asked me where I dwelt, and what my name was.

Dough. Ah Rogue!

Boy. But it was in a quarrelsome way; Whereupon I was as stout, and ask'd him who made him an examiner?

Dough. Ah good Boy.

Mil. In that he was my Sonne.

Boy. He told me he would know or beat it out of me, And I told him he should not, and bid him doe his worst; And to't we went.

Dough. In that he was my sonne againe, ha boy; I see him at it now.

Boy. We fought a quarter of an houre, till his sharpe nailes made my eares bleed.

Dough. O the grand Divell pare 'em.

Boy. I wondred to finde him so strong in my hands, seeming but of mine owne age and bignesse, till I looking downe, perceived he had clubb'd cloven feet like Oxe feet; but his face was as young as mine.

Dought. A pox, but by his feet, he may be the Club-footed Horse-coursers father, for all his young lookes.

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 scar'd me backe againe, and then met me the Boy againe, and he strucke me and layd mee for dead.

Mil. Till I wondring at his stay, went out and found him in the Trance; since which time, he has beene haunted and frighted with Goblins, 40 times; and never durst tell any thing (as I sayd) because the Hags had so threatned him till in his sicknes he revealed it to his mother.

Dough. And she told no body but folkes on't. Well Gossip Gretty, as thou art a Miller, and a close thiefe, now let us keepe it as close as we may till we take 'hem, and see them handsomly hanged o'the way: Ha my little Cuffe-divell, thou art a made man. Come, away with me.

Exeunt."

Heywood and Broome's Late Lancashire Witches, Acts 2 and 3.