Part 2 / Act 1 — SCENE II.
Reading edition
The abode of Hecate.
Enter Hecate.[479]
Hec. Titty and Tiffin, Suckin and Pidgen, Liard and Robin! white spirits, black spirits, grey spirits, red spirits! devil-toad, devil-ram, devil-cat, and 259devil-dam! why, Hoppo and Stadlin,[480] Hellwain[481] and Puckle![482]
Stad. [within] Here, sweating at the vessel.
Hec. Boil it well.
Hop. [within] It gallops now.
Hec. Are the flames blue enough?
Or shall I use a little seething more?
Stad. [within] The nips of fairies[483] upon maids’ white hips
Are not more perfect azure.
Hec. Tend it carefully.
Send Stadlin to me with a brazen dish,
That I may fall to work upon these serpents,
And squeeze 'em ready for the second hour:
Why, when?[484]
Enter Stadlin with a dish.
Stad. Here’s Stadlin and the dish.
Hec. There, take this unbaptised brat;[485]
[Giving the dead body of a child.
Boil it well; preserve the fat:
260You know ’tis precious to transfer
Our 'nointed flesh into the air,
In moonlight nights, on steeple-tops,
Mountains, and pine-trees, that like pricks or stops
Seem to our height; high towers and roofs of princes
Like wrinkles in the earth; whole provinces
Appear to our sight then even leek[486]
A russet mole upon some lady’s cheek.
When hundred leagues in air, we feast and sing,
Dance, kiss, and coll,[487] use every thing:
What young man can we wish to pleasure us,
But we enjoy him in an incubus?
Thou know’st it, Stadlin?
Stad. Usually that’s done.
261Hec. Last night thou got’st the mayor of Whelplie’s[488] son;
I knew him by his black cloak lin’d with yellow;
I think thou’st spoil’d the youth, he’s but seventeen:
I’ll have him the next mounting. Away, in:
Go, feed the vessel for the second hour.
Stad. Where be the magical herbs?
Hec. They’re down his throat;[489]
His mouth cramm’d full, his ears and nostrils stuff’d.
I thrust in eleoselinum lately,
Aconitum, frondes populeas, and soot—
You may see that, he looks so b[l]ack i’ th’ mouth—
Then sium, acorum vulgare too,
Solanum somnificum et oleum.
Stad. Then there’s all, Hecate.
Hec. Is the heart of wax
Stuck full of magic needles?
Stad. ’Tis done, Hecate.
Hec. And is the farmer’s picture and his wife’s
Laid down to th’ fire yet?
Stad. They’re a-roasting both too.
Hec. Good [exit Stadlin]; then their marrows are a-melting subtly,
And three months’ sickness sucks up life in 'em.
They denied me often flour, barm, and milk,
Goose-grease and tar, when I ne’er hurt their churnings,[492]
Their brew-locks, nor their batches, nor forespoke
262Any of their breedings. Now I’ll be meet[493] with 'em:
Seven of their young pigs I’ve bewitch’d already,
Of the last litter;
Nine ducklings, thirteen goslings, and a hog,
Fell lame last Sunday after even-song too;
And mark how their sheep prosper, or what sup
Each milch-kine gives to th’ pail: I’ll send these snakes
Shall milk 'em all
Beforehand; the dew-skirted[494] dairy-wenches
Shall stroke dry dugs for this, and go home cursing;
I’ll mar their sillabubs and swathy feastings[495]
Under cows’ bellies with the parish-youths.
Where’s Firestone, our son Firestone?
Enter Firestone.
Fire. Here am I, mother.
Hec. Take in this brazen dish full of dear ware:
[Gives dish.
Thou shalt have all when I die; and that will be
Even just at twelve a’ clock at night come three year.
Fire. And may you not have one a’ clock in to th’ dozen, mother?
Hec. No.
Fire. Your spirits are, then, more unconscionable than bakers. You’ll have lived then, mother, sixscore year to the hundred; and, methinks, after sixscore years, the devil might give you a cast, for he’s a fruiterer too, and has been from the beginning; the first apple that e’er was eaten came through his fingers: the costermonger’s,[496] then, I hold to be the ancientest trade, though some would have the tailor pricked down before him.
263Hec. Go, and take heed you shed not by the way;
The hour must have her portion: ’tis dear sirup;
Each charmed drop is able to confound
A family consisting of nineteen
Or one-and-twenty feeders.
Fire. Marry, here’s stuff indeed!
Dear sirup call you it? a little thing
Would make me give you a dram on’t in a posset,
And cut you three years shorter. [Aside.
Hec. Thou art now
About some villany.
Fire. Not I, forsooth.—
Truly the devil’s in her, I think: how one villain smells out another straight! there’s no knavery but is nosed like a dog, and can smell out a dog’s meaning. [Aside.]—Mother, I pray, give me leave to ramble abroad to-night with the Nightmare, for I have a great mind to overlay a fat parson’s daughter.
Hec. And who shall lie with me, then?
Fire. The great cat
For one night, mother; ’tis but a night:
Make shift with him for once.
Hec. You’re a kind son!
But ’tis the nature of you all, I see that;
You had rather hunt after strange women still
Than lie with your own mothers. Get thee gone;
Sweat thy six ounces out about the vessel,
And thou shalt play at midnight; the Nightmare
Shall call thee when it walks.
Fire. Thanks, most sweet mother. [Exit.
Hec. Urchins, Elves, Hags, Satyrs, Pans, Fawns,
Sylvans,[497] Kitt-with-the-candlestick, Tritons, Centaurs,
264Dwarfs, Imps, the Spoo[r]n, the Mare, the
Man-i’-th’-oak, the Hellwain, the Fire-drake, the
Puckle! A ab hur hus!
Enter Sebastian.
Seb. Heaven knows with what unwillingness and hate
I enter this damn’d place: but such extremes
Of wrongs in love fight 'gainst religion’s knowledge,
That were I led by this disease to deaths
As numberless as creatures that must die,
I could not shun the way. I know what ’tis
To pity madmen now; they’re wretched things
265That ever were created, if they be
Of woman’s making, and her faithless vows.
I fear they’re now a-kissing: what’s a’clock?
’Tis now but supper-time; but night will come,
And all new-married couples make short suppers.—
Whate’er thou art, I’ve no spare time to fear thee;
My horrors are so strong and great already,
That thou seemest nothing. Up, and laze not:
Hadst thou my business, thou couldst ne’er sit so;
'Twould firk thee into air a thousand mile,
Beyond thy ointments. I would I were read
So much in thy black power as[498] mine own griefs!
I’m in great need of help; wilt give me any?
Hec. Thy boldness takes me bravely; we’re all sworn
To sweat for such a spirit: see, I regard thee;
I rise and bid thee welcome. What’s thy wish now?
Seb. O, my heart swells with’t! I must take breath first.
Hec. Is’t to confound some enemy on the seas?
It may be done to-night: Stadlin’s within;[499]
She raises all your sudden ruinous storms,
That shipwreck barks, and tear[500] up growing oaks,
266Fly over houses, and take Anno Domini[501]
Out of a rich man’s chimney—a sweet place for’t!
He’d be hang’d ere he would set his own years there;
They must be chamber’d in a five-pound picture,
A green silk curtain drawn before the eyes on’t;
His rotten, diseas’d years!—or dost thou envy
The fat prosperity of any neighbour?
I’ll call forth Hoppo, and her incantation
Can straight destroy the young of all his cattle;
Blast vineyards, orchards, meadows; or in one night
Transport his dung, hay, corn, by reeks,[502] whole stacks,
Into thine own ground.
Seb. This would come most richly now
To many a country grazier; but my envy
Lies not so low as cattle, corn, or vines:
'Twill trouble your best powers to give me ease.
Hec. Is it to starve up generation?
To strike a barrenness in man or woman?
Seb. Hah!
Hec. Hah, did you feel me there? I knew your grief.
Seb. Can there be such things done?
Hec. Are these the skins
Of serpents? these of snakes?
Seb. I see they are.
Hec. So sure into what house these are convey’d,
[Giving serpent-skins, &c. to Sebastian.
Knit with these charms[503] and retentive knots,
Neither the man begets nor woman breeds,
267No, nor performs the least desires of wedlock,
Being then a mutual duty. I could give thee
Chirocineta,[504] adincantida,
Archimedon, marmaritin, calicia,
Which I could sort to villanous barren ends;
But this leads the same way. More I could instance;
As, the same needles thrust into their pillows
That sew and sock[505] up dead men in their sheets;
A privy gristle of a man that hangs
After sunset; good, excellent; yet all’s there, sir.
Seb. You could not do a man that special kindness
To part 'em utterly now? could you do that?
Hec. No, time must do’t: we cannot disjoin wedlock;
’Tis of heaven’s fastening. Well may we raise jars,
Jealousies, strifes, and heart-burning disagreements,
Like a thick scurf o’er life, as did our master
Upon that patient miracle;[506] but the work itself
Our power cannot disjoint.
Seb. I depart happy
In what I have then, being constrain’d to this.—
And grant, you greater powers that dispose men,
That I may never need this hag agen![507]
[Aside, and exit.
Hec. I know he loves me not,[508] nor there’s no hope on’t;
268’Tis for the love of mischief I do this,
And that we’re sworn to the first oath we take.
Re-enter Firestone.
Fire. O mother, mother!
Hec. What’s the news with thee now?
Fire. There’s the bravest[509] young gentleman within, and the fineliest drunk! I thought he would have fallen into the vessel; he stumbled at a pipkin of child’s grease; reeled against Stadlin, overthrew her, and in the tumbling-cast struck up old Puckle’s heels with her clothes over her ears.
Hec. Hoyday!
Fire. I was fain to throw the cat upon her to save her honesty, and all little enough; I cried out still, I pray, be covered.[510] See where he comes now, mother.
Enter Almachildes.
Alm. Call you these witches? they be tumblers, methinks,
Very flat tumblers.
Hec. ’Tis Almachildes—fresh blood stirs in me—
269The man that I have lusted to enjoy;
I’ve had him thrice in incubus already. [Aside.
Alm. Is your name Goody Hag?
Hec. ’Tis any thing:
Call me the horrid’st and unhallow’d things
That life and nature tremble[511] at, for thee
I’ll be the same. Thou com’st for a love-charm now?
Alm. Why, thou’rt a witch, I think.
Hec. Thou shalt have choice of twenty, wet or dry.
Alm. Nay, let’s have dry ones.
Hec. If thou wilt use’t by way of cup and potion,
I’ll give thee a remora shall bewitch her straight.
Alm. A remora? what’s that?
Hec. A little suck-stone;
Some call it a sea-lamprey, a small fish.
Alm. And must be butter’d?
Hec. The bones of a green frog too, wondrous precious,
The flesh consum’d by pismires.
Alm. Pismires? give me a chamber-pot!
Fire. You shall see him go nigh to be so unmannerly, he’ll make water before my mother anon. [Aside.
Alm. And now you talk of frogs, I’ve somewhat here;
I come not empty-pocketed from a banquet,
I learn’d that of my haberdasher’s wife:
Look, goody witch, there’s a toad in marchpane[512] for you.
[Gives marchpane.
Hec. O sir, you’ve fitted me!
270Alm. And here’s a spawn or two
Of the same paddock-brood too, for your son.
[Gives other pieces of marchpane.
Fire. I thank your worship, sir: how comes your handkercher
Alm. ’Tis nothing but the sirup the toad spit;
Take all, I prithee.
Hec. This was kindly done, sir;
And you shall sup with me to-night for this.
Alm. How? sup with thee? dost think I’ll eat fried rats
And pickled spiders?
Hec. No; I can command, sir,
The best meat i’ th’ whole province for my friends,
And reverently serv’d in too.
Alm. How?
Hec. In good fashion.
Alm. Let me but see that, and I’ll sup with you.
[Hecate conjures; and enter a Cat playing on a fiddle, and Spirits with meat.
The Cat and Fiddle’s an excellent ordinary:
You had a devil once in a fox-skin?
Hec. O, I have him still: come, walk with me, sir.
[Exeunt all except Firestone.
Fire. How apt and ready is a drunkard now to reel to the devil! Well, I’ll even in and see how he eats; and I’ll be hanged if I be not the fatter of the twain with laughing at him. [Exit.
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