The Lancashire-witches and Tegue O Divelly, the Irish-priest a comedy acted at the Duke's Theater
Shadwell, Thomas, 1642?-1692.

ACT. I.

Enter Sir Edward Harfort and Smerk.
Smerk.
SIR, give me leave, as by my duty bound,
To let you know (though I am lately come
Into your Family) I have observ'd
(For all your real curtesie, and seeming mirth
Among your Friends that visit you) a fixt
And constant melancholly does possess you, Sir,
When y'are alone, and you seem not to rellish
The happiness your ample fortune, and
The great esteem your worth has ever gain'd
From all good men might give you, I am bound
To inquire the Cause, and offer my Advice.
Sir Edw.
Pray search no further, I, for once, can pardon
The rashness of your curiosity.
I did not take you for my Councellor.
Smerk.
You now, Sir, are become one of my Flock:
And I am bound in Conscience to Advise,
Page  2 And search into the troubles of your spirit,
To find the secrets that disturb your mind.
Sir Edw.
I do not wonder that a Parson should
Be foolish and pragmatical; but know,
I will advise and teach your Master of Artship
(That made you lord it over Boys and Frshmen)
To add to yur small Logick and Divinity
Two main Ingredints, Sir, Sence and Good-manners,
Smerk.
Consider, Sir, the Dignity of my Funcion.
Sir Edw.
Your Father is my Taylor, you are my Servant.
And d you think a Cassock and a Girdle
Can 〈◊〉 you so much, as to enable
You (who before were but a Coxcomb, Sir,)
To tach me? Know, I only took you for
A mehanick ••vine, to read Church Prayers
Twice every day, and once a week to Teach
My Servants Honesty and Obedience.
You may 〈◊〉 to a silly Flock,
And leadem where you please, but nere must hope
To govern men of sense and knowledg.
Smerk.
My Office bids me say this is profane,
And little less than Athiestical.
Sir Edw.
You're insolent, you're one of the senceless,
Htheaded Fools, that injure all your Tribe;
Learn of the wise, the moderate and good,
Our Church abounds with such examples for you.
I 〈◊〉 the name of Atheist, youre ill-mannerd.
But who ere touches one of you hot-spur Parsons,
You brand him home, and right, or wrong, no matter.
Smerk.
My Orders give me Authority to speak.
Sir Edw.
Your Orders separate, and set you a-part
To Minister, That is to serve in Churches,
And not to dominer in Families.
Smerk.
A pwer Legantine I have from Heaven.
Sir Edw.
Show your Credentials. Come good petulant
Mr. 〈◊〉-Lgick, pack up your for Books
And ld Black thred-bare Clothes to morrow-morning,
And have my House; get you a Wall-eyd Mare,
Will carry double, for your Spouse and you;
When some ast Chamber-Maid shall smile upon you,
Charm'd with a Vicaridge of forty pound
A year, the greatest you can 〈…〉.
Smerk.
Good Sir! I have offended, and am sorry.
I 〈◊〉 will once cmmit this fault again,
Now I am acquainted with your Worships mind▪
Page  3
Sir Edw.
So, now you are not bound in Conscience then.
The indiscretion of such paultry fellows
Are scandals to the Church and Cause they Preach for.
What fatal michiefs have domestick Priests
Brought on the best of Families in England!
Where their dull Patrons give them line enough,
First with the Women they insinuate,
(Whose fear and folly makes them slaves t'you,)
And give them ill opinions of their Husbands.
Oft ye divide them if the women rule not.
But, if they govern, then your reign is sure.
Then y' have the secrets of the Family,
Dispose oth' Children, place and then displace,
Whom, and when you think fit.
Smerk.
Good, Noble Sir! I humbly shall desist.
Sir Edw.
The Husband must not drink a Glass, but when
You shall, of your good grace, think fit for him.
None shall be welcom but whom you approve:
And all this favour is, perhaps, requited
With the infusing of ill principles into the Sons,
And stealing, or corrupting of the Daughters.
Sometimes upon a weak and bigot Patron you
Obtain so much to be Executor:
And, if he dies, marry his Widdow, and
Claim then the cheating of his Orphans too.
Smerk.
Sweet Sir forbear, I am fully sensible.
Sir Edw.
With furious zeal you press for Discipline,
With fire and blood maintain your great Diana.
Foam at the mouth when a Dissenter's nam'd,
(With fiery eyes, wherein we flaming see
A persecuting spirit) you roar at
Those whom the wisest of your function strive
To win by gentleness and easie ways.
You dam em if they do not love a Surplice.
Smerk.
Had I the power, I'de make them wear pitcht Surplices,
And light them till they flam'd about their Ears
I would—
Sir Edw.
Such Firebrands as you but hurt the Cause.
The learnedst and the wisest of your Tribe
Strive by good life and meekness to o'recome them.
We serve a Prince renown'd for Grace and Mercy,
Abhorring ways of Blood and Cruelty;
Whose Glory will, for this, last to all Ages.
Him Heaven preserve long quiet in his Throne.
I will have no such violent Sons of Thunder,
Page  4I will have moderation in my House.
Smerk.
Forgive my zeal, and, if your Worship please,
I will submit to all your wise Instructions.
Sir Edw.
Then (on your good behaviour) I receive you,
Search not the secrets of my House or me.
Vain was our Reformation, if we still
Suffer auricular Confession here,
By which the Popish Clergy rule the world.
No business in my Family shall concern you;
Preach nothing but good life and honesty.
Smerk.
I will not.
Sir Edw.
No controversial Sermons will I hear:
No medling with Government; y'are ignorant
〈◊〉 Laws and Customs of cur Realm, and should be so.
The other world should be your care, not this.
A Plow-man is as fit to be a Pilot,
As a good Clergy-man to be a States-man, Sir,
Besides, the People are not apt to love you,
Because your sloth is supported by their labours.
And you do hurt to any Cause you would
Advance.
Smerk.
I humbly bow, Sir, to your Wisdom.
Sir Edw.
A meek and humble modest Teacher be;
For pitteous triles you Divines fall out.
If you must Quarrel, Quarrel who shall be
Most honest men; leave me, and then consider
Of what I have said.
Smerk.
I will do any thing,
Rather than lose your Worships grace and favour.
Sir Edw.
Begon.
Ex. Smerk▪
Enter Isabella.
Isabella.
Sir, why do you walk alone, and Melancholly?
I have observ'd you droop much on the suddain.
Sir Edw.
Dear Isabella, the most solid joy
And comfort of my fading life! thou truest Image
Of thy dead Mother! who excelld her Sex:
Fair, and not proud on't; witty, and not vain;
Not grave, but Wise; Chast, and yet kind and free;
Devout, not sower; Religious, not precise:
In her no foolish affectation was
Which makes us naseate all good qualities.
She was all meekness and humility;
The tenderest Mother, and the softest Wife.
Page  5
Isab.
My Deerest and most Honoured Father,
(Had you not been the best of Parents living)
I could not have outliv'd that Mothers loss:
Loss of her tender care, and great example.
Sir Edw.
Yet learn, my Child, never to grieve for that
Which cannot be recall'd; those whom I love
With tenderness I will embrace, when living,
And when they're dead strive to forget 'em soon.
Isab.
What is it can afflict you now, dear Father?
Sir Edw.
Thou'rt wise, to thee I can declare my grief;
Thy Brother has been still my tender care,
Out of my duty, rather than affection,
Whom I could never bend by education
To any generous purpose, who delights
In Dogs and Horses, Peasants, Ale and Sloth.
Isab.
He may have Children will be wiser, Sir.
And you are young enough yet to expect
Many years comfort in your Grandchildren.
Sir Edw.
To that end, I would match the unhewn Clown
To the fair Daughter of Sir Ieffery Shaklehead,
Who has all the perfections can be wish'd
In womn-kind, and might restore the breed:
But he neglects her to enjoy his Clowns,
His foolish sports, and is averse to Marriage.
I would not have my name perish in him.
Isab.
aside.
I am sure shee'l never help to the continuance.
Sir Edw.
But thou art good, my Child, obedient,
And though Sir Timothy, Sir Ieffery's Son,
Has not the great accomplishments I wish him,
His temper yet is flexible and kind,
And will be apt to yield to thy discretion.
His person not ungratious, his Estate
Large, and lies altogether about his House,
Which (for its scituation and its building)
With noble Gardens, Fountains, and a River
Runing quite through his Park and Garden,
Exceeds most in the North: Thou knowest my Child
How this cross match will strengthen and advance
My Family—He is coming hither from
His sport, He has given his Horse to his man, and now▪
Is walking towards us; I'le go and find
My Lady and her Daughter.
Ex. Sir Edward.
Isab.
Oh hard fate!
That I must disobey so good a Father:
Page  6I to no punishment can be condemn'd
Like to the Marriage with this foolish Knight.
But by ill usage of him, I will make him,
I possible, hate me as I hate him.
Enter Sir Timothy Shaklehead.
Sir Tim.

Oh my Fair Couzen, I spid yee, and that made me give my man my Horse to come to you.

Isab.

Me? have you any business with me?

Sir Tim.

Business! yes Faith, I think I have, you know it well enough, but we have had no sport this afternoon, and therefore I made hast to come to you.

Isb.

Such as you should have no sport made to you, you should make it for others.

Sir Tim.

Ay, its no matter for that; but Couzen, would you believe it, we were all 〈◊〉, Mother Demdike and all her Imps were abroad, I think, but you are the prtty 〈◊〉 that enchants my heart. This must n••ds please her.

Aside.
Isab.

Well said, Academy of Compliments, you are well read I see.

Sir Tim.

Ods Bud, who would have thought she had read that!

Isab.

Nay, for Learning and good breeding let Tim alone.

Sir Tim.

Tim! I might be Sir Timothy in your mouth though one would think.

Isab.

I am sorry the King bestowed Honour so cheaply.

Sir Tim.

Nay, not so cheap neither; for though my Lady Mother had a dear Friend at Court, yet I was fain to give one a Hundred pounds, besides my Fees, I am sure of that: Tim, hum go too—

Iab.

Was there ever so fulsom a Fool▪

Sir Tim.

Besides, I gave Thirty Guinnies for the Sword I was Knighted with to one of his Nobles, for the King di not draw his own Sword upon me.

Isab.

Do you abuse the Nobility? would a Nobleman sell you a Sword?

Sir Tim.

Yes that they will, sll that or any thing else at Court. I am sure he was a great Courtier he talked so prettily to the Kings Dogs, and was so familiar with them, and they were very kind to 〈◊〉, and he had great interest in them: He had all their names as quick, and 〈…〉 know who, and discoursd with them, I protest and vow, as if they had 〈◊〉 Christians.

Isab.

Oh thou art a pretty Fllow; hey for little Tim of Lancashire.

Sir Tim.

You might give one ons title one would think, I say again, especially one that loves you too.

Isab.

Yes, I will give you your Title.

Sir Tim.

Thank you dear Cozn.

He offers to kiss her hand, she gives him a box on the ear.
Isab.

Take that, and your proper Title, Fool.

Sir Tim.

Fool! I 〈◊〉 you, I sorn your words, 'tis a burning shame you should be 〈◊〉, tht it is: Little thinke my ady Mother how I am used.

I••b.

Once for all, as a Kinsman I wll b civil to you; but if you dare make love 〈◊〉, I'le make thee such an example, thou shalt be a terrour to all foolish Knights.

Sir Tim.

oolish! ha, ha, ha, that's a pretty jest; why han't I been at Oxford and the 〈◊〉 of Court? I have spent my time well indeed if I be a Fool still: But I am not such a Fool to give you over for all this.

Page  7
Isab.

Dost thou hear? thou most incorrigible lump, never to be lickt into form; thou Coxcomb incarnate; thou fresh, insipid, witless, mannerless Knight, who wearest a Knighthood worse than a Haberdasher of Small wares would; It serves but to make thy folly more eminent.

Sir Tim.

Well, well, forsooth, somebody shall know this.

Isab.

Every one that knows thee knows it. Dost thou think, because thy foolish Mother has Cockerd thee with morning Cawdles and afternoons Luncheons, thou art fit to make Love? Ile use thee like a Dog if thou darest but speak once more of Love, or name the world before me.

Sir Tim.

Mum, mum, no more to be said, I shall be heard some-where. Will your Father maintain you in these things, ha Gentlewoman?

Isab.

Tell if thou durst, I'le make thee tremble. Heart, if you bent gone now presently, Ile beat you.

Ex. Sir Tim.
Enter Theodosia.
Isab.

My Dear, art thou come! I have been just now tormented by thy foolish Brothers awkward Courtship, forgive me that I make so bold with him.

Theo.

Prethee do, my Dear, I shall be as free with thine, though he is not so great a Plague, for he is bashful, very indifferent, and for ought I perceive, to my great com∣fort, no Lover at all: But mine is pert, foolish, confident, and on my Conscience in love to boot.

Isab.

Well, we are resolved never to Marry where we are designed, thats certain. For my part I am a free English woman, and will stand up for▪ my Liberty, and Pro∣perty of Choice.

Theo.

And Faith, Girl, Ile be a mutineer on thy side; I hate the imposition of a Husband, 'tis as bad as Popry.

Isab.

We will be Husband and Wife to one another, dear Theodosia.

Theo.

But there are a brace of Sparks we saw at the Spaw, I am apt to believe would forbid the Banes if they were here.

Isab.

Bellfort and Dubt they write us word they will be here suddenly, but I have little hopes; for my Father is so resolved in whatever he proposes, I must dispair of his consent for Bellfort, though he is too reasonable to force me to Marry any one▪ besides he is engaged, in honour, to your Father.

Theo.

Nay, if thou thinkest of subjection still, or I either, we are in a desperate case: No, mutiny, mutiny, I say.

Isab.

And no money, no money will our Fathers say.

Theo.

If our Lovers will not take us upon those Terms they are not worthy of us. If they will, farewell Daddy, say I.

Isab.

If so, I will be as hearty a Rebel, and as brisk as thou art for thy life; But canst thou think they are such Romancy Knights to take Ladies with nothing? I am scarce so vain though I am a woman.

Theo.

I would not live without vanity for the Earth; if every one could see their own faults 'twould be a sad World.

Page  8
••ab.

Thou saist right, sure the world would be almost depopulated, most men ould hang themselves.

The.

Ay, and women too: Is there any creature so happy as your affected Lady? or 〈◊〉 Coxcomb?

Iab.

I must confess they have a happy error, that serves their turn better than truth; but away with Philosophy, and let's walk on and consider of the more weighty mat∣ters of our Love.

〈◊〉.

Come along my Dear.

Ex▪ Isabella and Theodocia.
Enter Sir Timothy.
Sir Tim.

What a pox is the matter? She has piss'd upon a Nettle to day, or else the Witchs have bwitched hr. Hah, now I talk of Witches, I am plageily afraid, and all alone: No heres Nun••e Tomas.

Enter Tho. Shaklehead.
T•• Sha.

How now Couzen?

Sir Tim.

Couzen? plain Couzen? You might have more manners Uncle, S flesh, and one gives you an Inch, you'l take an Ell. I see Familiarity breeds Contempt.

Tm Sha.

Well, Sir Timothy, then, Byr Lady I thought no harm; But I am your 〈…〉 that.

Sir Tim.

Yes, my Father's younger Brother. What a Murrain do we keep you for, but to have an eye over our Dogs and Hawks, to drink Ale with the Tennants (when they come with Rnt or resents) in Black Jacks, at the upper end of a Brown Sho•••-board able in the Hal? to sit at lower end oth' board at meals, rise make our 〈◊〉, and take away your Plate at second Course? And you to be thus familiar!

Tm Sha.

Pray forgive me good Couzen: Sir Timothy, I mean.

Sir Tim.

Vry well, you will be facy again Uncle. Uds lud, Why was I Knight∣ed but to have my Title given me? My Father, and Lady Mother can give it me, and s••h a Fellow as you, a meer younger Brother to forget it.

Tm Sha.

Nay, nay, had yee yeou mun tat in good part, I did but forget a bit, good Sir Timohy.

Sir Tim.

My Mother would 〈◊〉 a fine taking about it, and she knew it.

Tm Sha.

Nay, pray now do not 〈…〉 my ady, by th' Mass who'l be e'en 〈◊〉 wood an who hears ot. But look a, look a, here come th' Caursers, the Har〈◊〉 playd the D••l with us to 〈◊〉, we 〈…〉 bewitch'd.

Sir Tim.

Ay, so we have, to have the Hare vanish in open Field before all our fa∣•••, and our eyes never 〈◊〉 from her.

Tm Sha.

Ay, and then an awd wife (they caw'n her Mother Demdike) to start 〈…〉 very spot o grawnt where we losten puss!

Page  9Enter Sir Ieffery Shaklehead, Sir Edward Harfurt, young Harfourt, Chaplain, Clod, and other Servants.
Sir Edw.

These are Prodigies you tell, they cannot be; your sences are deceived.

Sir Ieff.

My sences deceived! that's well, Is there a Justice in Lancashire has so much skill in Witches as I have? Nay, I'le speak a proud word, you shall turn me loose a∣gainst any Witch-finder in Europe; I'd make an Ass of Hopkins if he were alive.

Young Har.

Nay, I'le swear 'tis true, a Pox on that awd Carrion Mother Demdike, she ha's marrd all our sports, and almost kill'd Two Brace of Greyhounds worth a Thou∣sand pound.

Sir Edw.

Dreams, meer Dreams of Witches, old womens fables, the Devil's not such a Fool as you would make him.

Sir Ieff.

Dreams! mercy upon me! are you so profane to deny Witches?

Smerk.

Heaven defend! will you deny the existence of Witches? 'Tis very Athe∣istical.

Sir Edw.

Incorrigible ignorance! 'tis such as you are Atheistical, that would equal the Devils power with that of Heaven its self. I see such simple Parsons cannot en∣dure to hear the Devil dishonour'd.

Sir Ieff.

No Witches? why I have hang'd above Fourscore. Read Bodin, Remigi∣us, Delrio, Nider, Institr, Sprenger, Godelman, and More, and Malleus Maleficarum, a great Author, that Writes sweetly about Witches, very sweetly.

Sir Edw.

Malleus Maleficarum a Writer, he has read nothing but the titles I see.

Sir Ieff.

Oh I a great man, Malleus was a great man; Read Couzen, read the An∣tidote against Atheism: Well, I'le make work among your Witches.

Young Har.

Ay good Sir Ieffery do, Uds Lud they'l grow so bold one shan go a Caursing, Hunting or Hawking for 'em one of these days; and then all the ioy of ones life's gone.

Sir Edw.

Why are those all the joys of Life?

Young Har.

Ay Godsflesh are they, I'd not give a Farthing to live with out 'em, what's a Gentleman but his Sports.

Tho. Sha.

Nay, byr Lady, I mun have a saup of Ale now and then, besides sports.

Sir Ieff.

Why here's my Son, Sir Timothy, saw the Hare vanish, and the Witch ap∣pear.

Sir Tim.

That I did upon my Honour Sir Ieffery.

Enter Clod.
Clod.

So ho, here's the Hare again.

Young Har.

He Boys, loo on the Dogs, more sport, more sport.

Sir Edw.

'Tis almost dark, let's home: go to your Mistress, Fool.

Young Har.

Time enough for that, Sir, I must have this Course first, halloo.

They all go out as to Coursing.
Page  10 Mother Demdike rises ut of the ground as they re-enter.
Sir Ieff.

Now, Sir Edward, do you see, the Hare is vanish'd, and here is the Hag.

Sir Edw.

Yes, I see 'tis almost dark, the Hare is run from your tired Dogs, and here is a poor old Woman gathering of sticks.

Smerk.

Avant thou filthy Hag, I defy thee and all thy works.

lod.

This is wheint indeed Sir, you are a Schollard, pray defend me.

Sir Ieff.

Now you shall see how the Witches fear me.

Sir Edw.

The old women ha•• reason to fear you, you have hang'd so many of 'em.

Sir Ieff.

Now Tom Shaklehead, and you Clod, lay hold o'th' Witch quickly; now you shall see my skill, wee'l search her, I warrant she has biggs or eats a handful long about her parts that shall be namless; then wel have her waced eght and fourty hours, and prickt with Needles, to keep her from sleeping, and make her 〈◊〉, Gad hee'l confess any thing in the world then; and if nor, after all, weel tye her Thumbs and great Toes together and 〈◊〉 her into your great Pond. Let me alone with her, I warrant ye, come, come, come, where are you?

Sir Edw.

So I must have a poor old woman murder'd in my House.

Mother Demdike knocks down Tom Shakle▪ head and Clod and vanishes.
Tom. Sha. Clod.

Oh the Witch, the Devil.

Sir Ieff.

How now, whats the matter?

Tom Sha.

Why by'r Lady, the Dels ith' matter, the old Hag has knockt us both dawn, and is vanisht under grawnt I think.

Sir Edw.

Your fear has knockt you down, and the old woman has escap'd.

Sir Ieff.

No, no, she has done't; a Witch has a mighty strength: Six men are not strong enough for a Witch of Fourscore.

Sir Edw.

Come prethy, Sir Ieffery, let's home and drive these fables out of her heads, its dark.

Sir Ieff.

Nay, I know how to deal with her, Ile send my Warrant, and a Consta∣ble with that is strong enough to beat six Witches, ay, six the ablest Witches on 'em allyou'd wonder at it, but faith 'tis true.

Exeunt omnes.
Mother Demdike re-enters.
Demd.

Ha, ha, ha, how I have fooled these fellows, let 'em go home and prate a∣bout it, this night wee'l revel in Sir Edward's Celler, and laugh at the Justice. But to the business of the Night.

She sings.
Come, Sisters, come, why do you stay?
Our business will not brook delay,
a The Owl is flown from the hollow Oak.
From Lakes and Bogs the Toads do croak.
The Foxes bark, the Screetch-Owl screams:
Wolves howl, Bats fly, and the faint beams
Page  11 O Glow-worms light grows bright a-pace;
The Stars are fled, the Moon hides her face.
b The Spindle now is turning round:
c Mandrakes are groaning under ground.
d'th' hole i'th Ditch, (our Nails have made)
e Now all our Images are laid,
Of Wax and Wooll, which we mustf prick,
With Needles urging to the quick▪
g Into the hole Ile poure a flood
Of Black Lambs bloud, to make all good.
The Lamb with Nails and Teeth weel tear.
Come wheres the Sacrifice? appear.
Enter Mother Dickenson, Hargrave, Mal, Spencer, and several other Witches with a Black Lamb.
Witches.
Tis here.
Demd.
Why are you all so tardy grown?
Must I the work perform alone?
Dicken,
h Be patient Dame, wee'l all obey.
Dem.
Come then to work, anon wee'l play.
To yonder Hall
Our Lord Weel call,
Sing, dance and eat,
Play many a feat,
And fright the Justice and the Squire,
And plunge the Cattel into the Mire.
But now to work
They tear the Black Lamb in pieces and poure the Blood into the hole.
i Deber, Deber, do not Stay,
Upon the Waves go sport and play▪
And see the ship be Cast away.
Come let us now our parts perform,
And Scrape a hole, and raise a Storm.
Dicken.
k Here is some Sea Sand I have Gotten,
Which thus into the Air I Throw.
Harg.
Here's sage, that under ground was rotten,
Which thus a-round me I bestow.
Spencer.
Sticks on the Bank a-cross are lay'd.
Harg.
The hole by our nayles is almost made.
Hogs Bristles boyl within the Pot.
Demd.
The Hollow flint Stone I have Got,
Page  12 Which I over my Shoulder throw,
Into the west, to make winds blow.
Now water here, and urine put,
And with your Stiks stir it about.
Now dip your brooms, and toss them high,
To bring the Rain down from the Sky.
Not yet a Storme?l Come let us wound
The Air with every dreadful sound,m
And with live vipers beat the ground.
They beat the ground with Vipers, they bark, hol, hiss, cry like Screetch-Owles, hollow like Owles, and make many confused noises: The Storm begins.

Song of three parts.

NOw the winds roar▪
And the Skies Pour
Down all their Store.
It Thunders and Lightens.
And now the Nights black,
Heark how the Clouds crack.
Heark how the Clouds crack.
It Thunders and Lightens.
A hollow din the Woods now make,
The Vallies tremble, Mountains Shake,
And all the living Creatures quake.
It Thunders and Lightens.
It keeps awake the Sleepy fowl,
The Saylers Swear, the high Seas rowl,
And all the frighted Dogs do howl.
It Thunders and Lightens.
Demdike speaks.
Now to our tasks let's all be gone,
Our Master we shall meet anon,
Between the hours of twelve and one.
They all set up a laugh▪
Enter Clod with a Candle and Lanthorn.
Clown.

Whaw, what a Storm is this! I think Mother Demdike and all her Dee'ls are abroad to neeght, 'tis so dark too

I canno see my hont.* Oh the Dee'l, the Dee'l,

help! help! this is Mother
Demdike, help, S-lesh,
what mn I do? I canno
get dawn, 'swawnds Ayst
be clemd an I stay here aw neeght.
Page  13Enter Bellfort and Doubty.
Bell.

Was there ever such a Storm raised on a suddain, the Sky being clear, and no appearance on't before?

Doubt.

But the worst part of our misfortune is to be out of our way in a strange Countrey, the night so dark that Owls and Bats are wildred.

Bell.

There is is no help, Cover the Saddles, and stand with the Horses under that Tree, while we stand close and shelter our selves here; the Tempest is so violent it cannot last.

Doubt.

Now Philosophy help us to a little patience, Heaven be praised we are not at Sea yet.

Bell.

These troubles we Knight Errants must endure when we march in search of Ladies.

Doubt.

Would we were in as good Lodging as our Dogs have which we sent before to Whalley. I fear too (after all this device of yours) our pretending to hunt here will never take.

Bell.

Why So?

Doubt.

Will any body think that a man in his right wits should chuse this Hilly Countrey to hunt in?

Bell.

O▪ yes, there are Huntsmen that think there's no sport without venturing Necks or Collet-bones; besides, there is no other way to hope to see our Mistresses: by this means we shall troll out my Mistresses Brother, who loves, and understands nothing but Countrey sports. By that we may get acquaintance with Sir Edward Harfourt, who is reported to be a wise, honest, hospitable, true English man. And that will bring us into Sir Ieffery Shaklehead's family, Whally being in the mid-way betwixt them.

Doubt.

I am resolved to see my Mistress, what ere comes ont, and know my doom. Your Yorkshire Spaw was a fatal place to me, I lost a heart there, Heaven knows when I shall find it again.

Bell.

Those interviews have spoiled me for a man of this World, I can no more throw of my loose corns of Love upon a Tennants Daughter in the Countrey, or think of Cuckolding a Keeping Fool in the City; I am grown as pittiful a 〈◊〉 Loving animal as any Romance can furnish us with.

Doubt.

That we should scape in all the Tour of France and Italy, where the 〈◊〉 has power to ripen Love, and catch this distemper in the North! but my Theodosia in humour, wit and beauty has no equal.

Bell.

Besides, my Isabella!

Doubt.

To you your Isabella's equal.

Bell.

We are pretty fellows to talk of Love, we shall be wet to the Skin; yondr are lights in many Rooms, it must be a great House, let's make towards it.

Doubt.

It is so dark, and among these Hills and Inclosures 'tis impossible. Will no lucky fellow, of this place, come by and guide us? We are out of all Roads.

Cld.

Oh! Oh! what mun Ay do? Ay am well neegh parisht: I mun try to get dawn.

He falls.
Page  14 Help, help, Murder, Murder.

Bell.

What a Devil s here a fellow fallen from the top of a Tree?

Doubt.

Sdeath s tais a night to climb in? what does this mean?

Clod.

Oh! Oh!

Bell.

Here, who art thou? Whats the matter?

Clod.

Oh the Deel; avant, I defy thee and all thy warks.

Doubt.

Is he drunk or mad? give me thy hand, I'le help thee.

Clod.

Begon, Witches I defy ye, help! help.

Bell.

What dost thou talk of? we are no Witches nor Devils, but travellers that have lost our way, and will reward thee well if thou wilt guide us into it.

Clod.

An yeow been a mon Ay'st talk wy ye a bir, yeow mun tack a care o your ••lls, the 〈◊〉 haunted with Buggarts, and Witches, one of 'em took my Condle and I athorn out of my hont, and ••ew along wy it; and an other Set me o top o th' tree, where I feel dawn naw, Av ha well neegh brocken my theegh.

Doubt.

The fellows mad, I neither understand his words, nor his Sence, prethee ow far is it to Whalley?

Cld.

Why yeow are quite bsaid th' road mon, yeow Shoulden a gone dawn 〈◊〉onk by Thomas o Georges, and then ee'n at yate, and turn'd dawn th' Lone, and 〈◊〉 the Steepo o'th' reeght ont.

Bell.

Prithee dont tell us what we should have done, but how far it is to Whalis∣ly.

Clod.

Why marry four mail and a bit.

Doubt.

Wee'l give thee an Angel and show us the way thither.

Clod.

Marry thats Whaint I conno see my hont, haw con Ay show yeou to Whalley to neeght.

Bell.

Canst thou shew us to any house where we may have Shelter and Lodging to night? we are Gentlemen and strangers, and will pay you well for't.

Clod.

Ay byr Lady con I, th' best ludging and d•••t too in aw Loncashire, Yonder at th' ough where yeow seen th' leeghts there.

Dubt.

Whose house is that?

Clod.

Why what a pox, were an yeow lived? why yeow are Strongers indeed! why, 'tis Sir Yedard Harfourts, he 〈…〉 to all Gentry, yeou st be welcome to him by day and by neegt 〈◊〉 Lord of aw here abauts.

Bell.

My Mistresses Father, Luk if it be thy will, have at my Isabella, Canst thou guide us thither?

Clod.

Ay, Ay, there's a pawer of Company there naw, S••Ieffery Shaklehead, and the Knight his Son, and Doughter.

Doubt.

Lucky above my wishes, o my Dear Theodosia, how my heart leaps at her! 〈…〉 guide us thither, wee'l pay thee well.

Clod.

Come on, I am en breed aut o my sences, I was ne'er so freeghtend sin I was born, give me your hont.

Bell.

No here are our men and Horses, wee'l get up, and you shall lead the fore∣most: Now Stars be kind.

Ex. Omnes,