Part 2 / Act 5 — SCENE II.
Reading edition
The Abode of Hecate: a caldron in the centre.
Enter Duchess, Hecate, and Firestone.
Hec. What death is’t you desire for Almachildes?
Duch. A sudden and a subtle.
Hec. Then I’ve fitted you.
Here lie the gifts of both; sudden and subtle:
His picture made in wax, and gently molten
By a blue fire kindled with dead men’s eyes,
Will waste him by degrees.
Duch. In what time, prithee?
Hec. Perhaps in a moon’s progress.
Duch. What, a month?
Out upon pictures, if they be so tedious!
Give me things with some life.
Hec. Then seek no farther.
Duch. This must be done with speed, despatch’d this night,
If it may possible.
Hec. I have it for you;
Here’s that will do’t: stay but perfection’s time,
And that’s not five hours hence.
Duch. Canst thou do this?
Hec. Can I!
Duch. I mean, so closely.
Hec. So closely do you mean too!
Duch. So artfully, so cunningly.
Hec. Worse and worse; doubts and incredulities!
They make me mad. Let scrupulous creatures know
326Cum volui,[566] ripis ipsis mirantibus, amnes
In fontes rediere suos; concussaque sisto,
Stantia concutio cantu freta; nubila pello,
Nubilaque induco; ventos abigoque vocoque;
Vipereas rumpo verbis et carmine fauces;
Et silvas moveo; jubeoque tremiscere montes,
Et mugire solum, manesque exire sepulchris.
Te [quo]que, luna, traho. Can you doubt me then, daughter,
That can make mountains tremble, miles of woods walk,
Whole earth’s foundation bellow, and the spirits
Of the entomb’d to burst out from their marbles,
Nay, draw yond moon to my involv’d designs?
Fire. I know as well as can be when my mother’s mad, and our great cat angry, for one spits French then, and th’ other spits Latin. [Aside.
Duch. I did not doubt you, mother.
Hec. No! what did you?
My power’s so firm, it is not to be question’d.
Duch. Forgive what’s past: and now I know th’ offensiveness
That vexes art, I’ll shun th’ occasion ever.
Hec. Leave all to me and my five sisters, daughter:
It shall be convey’d in at howlet-time;
Take you no care: my spirits know their moments;
327Raven or screech-owl never fly by th’ door
But they call in—I thank 'em—and they lose not by’t;
I give 'em barley soak’d in infants’ blood;
They shall have semina cum sanguine,
Their gorge cramm’d full, if they come once to our house;
We are no niggard. [Exit Duchess.
Fire. They fare but too well when they come hither; they eat up as much t’other night as would have made me a good conscionable pudding.
Hec. Give me some lizard’s-brain; quickly, Firestone.
[Firestone brings the different ingredients
for the charm, as Hecate calls for them.
Where’s grannam Stadlin, and all the rest o’ th’ sisters?
Fire. All at hand, forsooth.
Enter Stadlin, Hoppo, and other Witches.
Hec. Give me marmaritin, some bear-breech: when?[567]
Fire. Here’s bear-breech and lizard’s-brain, forsooth.
Hec. Into the vessel;
And fetch three ounces of the red-hair’d girl
I kill’d last midnight.
Fire. Whereabouts, sweet mother?
Hec. Hip; hip or flank. Where is the acopus?[568]
Fire. You shall have acopus, forsooth.
Hec. Stir, stir about, whilst I begin the charm.
328Black spirits[569] and white, red spirits and gray,
Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may!
Titty, Tiffin,
Keep it stiff in;
Firedrake, Puckey,
Make it lucky;
Liard, Robin,
You must bob in.
Round, around, around, about, about!
All ill come running in, all good keep out!
First Witch. Here’s the blood of a bat.
Hec. Put in that, O, put in that!
Sec. Witch. Here’s libbard’s-bane.
Hec. Put in again![570]
First Witch. The juice of toad, the oil of adder.
Sec. Witch. Those will make the younker madder.
Hec. Put in—there’s all—and rid the stench.
Fire. Nay, here’s three ounces of the red-hair’d wench.
All the Witches. Round, around, around, &c.
Hec. So, so, enough: into the vessel with it.
There, 't hath the true perfection. I’m so light
At any mischief! there’s no villany
But is a tune, methinks.
Fire. A tune? ’tis to the tune of damnation then, I warrant you, and that song hath a villanous burthen.
[Aside.
329Hec. Come, my sweet sisters; let the air[571] strike our tune,
Whilst we shew reverence to yond peeping moon.
[They dance the Witches’ Dance, and exeunt.
330